Missing My Mom

15 Dec

My mother was a weather witch. Whenever she came to visit, the weather would go berserk.  Often my neighbors would call to find out exactly when Mom would arrive, to plan for snow.  

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So it was not surprising that my Mom died during one of the worst snow storms ever in New York City, over 27 inches of snow in less than 24 hours.  Everything shut down.  The day of her funeral, her coffin was placed in front of a window.  As my niece stated,  “ I know Grandma is in heaven,”  a great, giant, massive clump of snow fell off the roof and on the ground outside the window.  Lovely torrents of snow arched upward.  Mom was there … heading to heaven.

My mother had the mind of a vault.  Any information that went in stayed there.  She remembered everything.  So when Mom suffered her first TIAs, mini strokes, we were very concerned.  My sister and Dad took her to a neurologist.  Mom scored a 100 percent on the test.  The doctor said something like,  “I believe you when you tell me that your Mom’s memory is not as good, but if this is bad, your Mom was very high functioning.”

And that is true. 

My mother was the glue that held people together.   She taught school for 30 years.  And the group of teachers who retired would often get together.  My Mom would make the plans.  After she died, the meetings basically ended.   One of the group, Pat, told me,  “It was your Mom who would call us all and tell us when we were meeting and where.  Without her, we just don’t have anyone organizing.”

It is true, all my organizing skills come from my Mom.

My mother was the kindest person.   Another teacher told this story at a memorial for my mother:  “The first day I taught at the school, I was worried.  Where would I sit during lunch?  Would the other teachers welcome me?  I was black and Cuban.  I don’t know why I worried.  I entered the lunchroom, and it became quiet.  Frances turned around,  “Oh there you are.  I have saved a seat for you next to me.”  And I sat there that day, and the next day and the next day.  And I realized I did not have to worry where I was going to sit.  I was going to sit with Frances and her friends for the rest of the years I taught.”

And she did sit with them for over 20 years.

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My mother was a great friend.  Her two best friends, Wini, who she knew since kindergarten, and Judy, who she met in 8th grade, are still alive.  It is difficult sometimes to think of them without thinking of my mother.  They shared so many memories and adventures together.  After my Mom died, Wini and Judy were there for my Dad during the nine months he lived.  They still call me to keep in touch and to send love to my brother and sister.  Their love for my mom continues.  She was also a great friend to mine and my siblings’ friends.  She opened her home to them, always making them welcome.

She was a warm and loving hostess.

My mother was an excellent teacher.  Two stories.  Many years ago, when my grandfather was ill and staying with my parents, a young immigrant named Selma came to stay with Papa, while Mom and Dad went to work.  My mother gave Selma homework every day.   Not cleaning or cooking, rather her work was  learning to read and write English.  And when my mom got home from school, she would work with Selma on her studies.  Second story.  Several weeks before she died, I had to take my Mom to the emergency room.  An intern came over.  This young doctor said, “Mrs. Rosenberg. Oh my, you were my fourth grade teacher!  You were the best teacher ever.  When I found out I was going to have you, I was so afraid, because you were so strict.  But you were the best.  I am a doctor today, because you encouraged me.”

And it was true.  My Mom touched the lives of hundreds of children.

My mother was the best grandmother.  Every one of her grandchildren can tell you stories about staying with her and learning from her.  She made each child feel loved.   As my father said, for both of them, they did not divide their hearts of love with each child or grandchild, their hearts got larger. 

They both had very strong and large hearts filled with love.

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My mother had a wonderful sense of humor.  Mom loved people and spread joy quietly wherever she went.  She had a wonderful way to make people feel comfortable and an easy way to laugh.  A story, after my Mom’s TIAs she lost the ability to sequence things.  So cooking, cleaning and laundry became difficult.  One day she asked me.  “Ellen, Dad says my memory is not as good.  What do you think? “   I answered:  “Well Mom, do you cook anymore, or does Liz (their helper) cook?  Do you do laundry anymore or does Liz do the laundry?  Do you clean any more or does the service clean?  My Mom got very quiet and then said,  “Well you know Ellen, I never liked doing any of those things anyway!:  

And that is true.  Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry were not high on my mother’s to do list.   Teaching, visiting, talking, loving were her charms.

December 27, 2010, my Mom left us on Earth forever. But she is forever in my heart and the hearts of all her children, grandchildren and the many people she loved.

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Not Quite Touching

8 Dec

It usually starts with a text message.  “You home?” One of us will type.  And then the other answers, and we start texting back and forth.  Usually it is me who writes…. “Want to talk? The texting is starting to bother me.” At times she is too busy and just wants to text.  But many times she types, “Sure.” Sometimes she initiates the move to a face-to-face chat. 

When we decide to chat, we both quickly move to our computers and click on the appropriate  ap.  “Ready,” she types.  I respond, “Yes.”  And she calls me.  Until I see her face, I feel a little anxious.  But then she appears, life size, on my computer screen.  And for a moment I feel as though she has entered the room.   There she is, my daughter, Lara, in my family room with me.  But at the same time she is thousands of miles away sitting in an apartment in Ramat Gan, Israel. 

The first time I ever chatted with Lara this way, I felt like I was in the middle of a science fiction movie.  Of course, like many people my age, the first time I had ever seen anything like this was in “2001: A Space Odyssey.”  And now I was doing the same thing: chatting over the internet, without even a time lag, with my daughter.

It is amazing.  She has walked her laptop through her apartment so that I can see where she lives.   I have met her boyfriend, Zak, as well as her roommate, Bar, on line.  We have celebrated birthdays and Mother’s Day while chatting.  I have opened my presents so she could see. 

We have chatted while I ate lunch, and she at dinner: private mother-daughter conversations that keep us up-to-date on family and personal events.

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And last week we lit the Hanukkah candles together.  It was afternoon here and night in Israel.  I received a text message: “You can light the candles with me.”   Of course I said, yes.

It was almost as if she was here.   But we were not quite touching.

I was glad that I could hear her sing the blessings (I tried singing with her, but the timing was off by just a second); that I could watch her light each candle  (I could almost smell the wax).  But at the same time, I was wistful….wishing that we were truly together.

When she talks to me from the computer, my cat, Misty, jumps up on the desk to be part of the conversation.  In the beginning, when Lara called, Misty would rub up against the screen and walk behind it to look for Lara.  Over time, the cat has realized that Lara is not in the room.  She cannot touch her.  But she can listen to her voice, and purr.

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I AM the Grand Master GumShoe!!!

3 Dec

I love gentle murders.

Not real ones, of course.   Rather the ones in a ‘cozy’ mystery.  Where someone dies at the beginning of the book.  Someone I don’t care about.  But then my fun begins.  I get to try to figure out who committed murder.

I don’t like murder mysteries where the author puts you inside the mind of the murderer.  Or mysteries where you know who did it from the beginning. Or murders that are vicious and mean.

I want to be the detective on a murder, where I get to examine the clues and see if they add up to the murderer as the story unfolds.  I flip back to pages I read before to check facts.  Doom to the author and editor who make a fact error in the story!  I will find it!

Mysteries are my way to relax.  I read intense best sellers….I read literary ‘masterpieces’….I read Pulitzer and Booker Man prize winners. But for true enjoyment, I want … I need…a mystery.

I also love live performances.  My husband and I have season tickets to three different theaters in the Kansas City area.  And we attend additional shows at other venues when something catches our attention.

So imagine my delight when I discovered,  “The Mystery Train”! Every two months, a new murder occurs on a ‘train.’  The people in the dining car….a private room in a local restaurant… participate in the mystery.   There are four or five actors leading the show, including a conductor who keeps everyone on course.  But they also chose people from the audience to play some of the characters.  WOW!  Murder! Mystery! And Audience participation! What more would I want to do for an evening?

I have gone twice.

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The both times I went with my husband, Jay,  and good friends, Beti and Jules.  The first time,  I was chosen to be one of the participants in the story.  I was Mrs. Rita Radcliffe, a rather bossy woman.  (My sister called it typecasting when she heard the story.)

I loved it.  I got a bit of a costume and a bit of the story, along with a partial script.  I had to answer questions when members of the dining audience came to ask.  But I also had the opportunity to guess who was the murderer.

I did not do well.  It is very hard to discover information and form a hypothesis, when people kept coming and asking me questions about my character.  But I was polite and did the best I could.

We did send Jules to several tables to question the other characters in the play.  But even with this input, none of us did well.  And Jules is an attorney.

But we had a wonderful time, and a good meal.

So we decided to try it again, when the mystery changed.  This time we arrived a little late.  We were put at a table with other people, instead of one by ourselves.  None of us was chosen to play a part.  So I could devote my entire brain to mystery solving.

I LOVED it!

I listened to every word.  I took notes.  We sent Jules to interrogate the other actors and characters again and report back to us!

And I heard something that no one else paid attention to or noticed.

How do I know? I was anointed “The Grand Master Gumshoe.”   We had write “who” we thought did it, “why” and “how”. My deductions were correct, just like Sherlock Holmes.

I received my own magnifying glass and a blue velvet case to keep it in.  But more important, the actors told that I was the first person to ever mention one specific clue in my explanation.  They had not even realize how important that one clue was until I wrote it down. But to me it was “elementary, my dears!”

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I admit, I am proud of this accomplishment.  When my sister came to visit, I showed her my magnifying glass every day of her five- day stay.  She might have become tired of seeing it. But since she was in my house and had no escape…and I keep it in my family room…she was doomed to keep viewing it.

Beti told me to carry my magnifying glass with me at all times to show it off.  Perhaps that is a little much?  However, I am proud to let the world know that I am and was the Grand Master Gumshoe, of one showing, one time, one night of the Mystery Train.

How can I top that?

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My Dad was A Proud Veteran

26 Nov

My Dad was a proud veteran.  He instilled a love of country and duty in my children. And my children loved him.   I know that my son adored my Dad.  But I guess until this past Veteran’s Day I did not realize how great that love was and remains.

My Dad died in 2011, ten days after my son’s 21st birthday.  On his birthday, Dad called.  I did not hear the phone call. But my son called me immediately after to tell me that Grandpa called to wish him a happy birthday and to say he loved him and would always love him.

My Dad was in the hospital.  Very ill.  When he hung up, he turned to my sister and said,  “No more treatments, no more food, and I am not talking to you anymore.”  Those might not be the exact words.  I wasn’t there. I was in Kansas. Dad was in a hospital in New Jersey.  But both my sister and brother agreed that he stopped talking and eating, and refused all treatment.

Did I tell you my Dad was very stubborn?

But in this case, he was right, because he made his own choice.   And he passed away 10 days later.

It was very difficult.  I had plane reservations for that morning.  But it was too late.  The phone call came at 12:30 am.  My brother calling.  I did not want to answer the phone.   But I had to face the reality…losing my Dad nine months after losing my Mom.   My grief was overwhelming.

I flew home to New Jersey, where my brother met me at the airport.  His words were in a way helpful.  “Dad saved us from making very difficult decisions,” he said.  And he was right.  Because we might have fought with him to do the one thing he never wanted…putting in a feeding tube.

Dad was strong willed.

My father was the recipient of both the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.  Even though he died on a Saturday, the funeral home was able to contact the military.  At my father’s funeral were two soldiers. At the cemetery they removed the flag covering his casket with great ceremony as they folded it.  While  the commanding soldier delivered the flag to my brother, saying the scripted, but heartfelt, words of the military, the other soldier disappeared.  A few minutes later, I knew why. From a far came the sound of  a soldier playing taps.  I still cry thinking of how proud my Dad was of serving his country.  And how the grateful nation return his respect with the tribute of a bugle.

 

The flag from Dad's funeral. His favorite Korea Veteran cap.

The flag from Dad’s funeral. His favorite Korea Veteran cap.

We kept the flag in the room where we sat shiva.  It seemed right that it be with us.  As it seemed right that my brother now has the flag.

So what does this have to do with my son?

Well first off, my brother and sister agreed that we would give my son my Dad’s newest tallit as a 21st birthday gift.   My Dad had three tallisim  (prayer shawls).  One from his bar mitzvah, one from his wedding, and then the beautiful one my Mom gave him when he became president of his synagogue.  In Jewish tradition, you bury the tallit with the owner.  But at the funeral home, the director told us, “Keep this one.  Use it for a huppah (wedding canopy)for his grandchildren.  Burying two is enough.“

My son was very quiet when I gave him the tallit. He held it for a while, then stroked the velvet case.  I cried because I could see the emotion in that gesture. Now  he  wears Dad’s tallit when he goes to synagogue.  My sister recently said to me that this Dad’s most personal item….his tallit.  That is true. My Dad was proud to wear his tallit.  Proud to be Jewish. As he was proud to be a veteran.

What does Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day have to do with this story?  So much.  My Dad served as a forward observer/radio man in the Korean War.  As he told my children,  “There were no cell phones then.  Someone had to go in front of the front line to lay the radio wires.  That was me.”

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My Dad explaining the Korean War.

 

So when they built a Korean War Veteran’s Memorial near my home, I helped fund it by buying a inscribed stone in honor of my Dad.   One Thanksgiving, when my parents were visiting,  I took them and my children to the Memorial, where Dad told them all about the war… He started to cry….even after over 55 years, the trauma of Korea still was fresh for him.

After my father died, in October 2011, I started going to the Memorial on Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day, to say hi to my Dad.  I cannot visit his grave, as he is buried in New Jersey. But this year, I could not go on Veteran’s Day.  I was out of town.  It bothered me that I could not make this important visit.

A few days after we got home, I had lunch with my son and his girlfriend.  I asked if I could take their photo to send to my daughter.  They said yes.  But then my son started making funny faces.

“Why are you doing that?”   I asked annoyed.

“I am channeling Grandpa,” he said.  “He would have done worse.  He would have also made bunny ears.”

I smiled.  But what he said next made me cry.

“I went to the Korean War Memorial on Veterans’ Day,” he said.  “I went there because I wanted to pay my respects and honor his memory,” he told me later.

When I told him that I went twice a year.  And I really appreciate his going for me.  He looked at me astonished and said he did not go for me.  “I never knew you went there to do that every year,” he said.  No he went there just to say hi to his grandfather.

There are no words….but love.

My Dad always said that with each child and grandchild your heart does not divide more, it gets bigger.  My Dad had the biggest heart, something he gave to his grandchildren.

So each year on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day, I will continue to honor my father by visiting the Korean War Veteran’s Memorial. I will think of him and of all the veterans who served with pride.

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Cats and Kids

16 Nov

Way before I had children, I had a wonderful loving cat.  A golden tabby, Topaz loved me.  He was gentle and kind.  And filled a need that no one could fill.   It was my mother-in-law, Lee’s, idea for us to get a kitten.  I had infertility issues.  And Topaz helped me get through a very difficult time.  I loved him.

And then we had children.   Although, through the years we always had cats… right now we are on cats 3 and 5….they never quite had the significance of Topaz.  I think because once you have children, you are caught up in so many events and dramas and activities.  You love your pets, but your children come first.  They are so demanding.

Of course we – my husband and I– always had the belief that in a way the cats were much better behaved than our children.   They never yelled at me or complained.  They always gave me love.  They purr, they chirp, they touch noses.

In fact, they never ask for anything but for food, water and love.

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So as the years went on, and some of our beloved cats left this world, we always found another waif to bring home.

Now we are back at the beginning.  The children are gone.  But the cats have stayed.  Cats 3 and 5 provide me so much love and attention.  Perhaps a bit more love and attention than Jay and I need, especially when they takeover ourbed.  Cats on our pillows; cats on our heads; cats on our feet; cats wherever we are.  Now that the weather is getting cold again, the warmth of the cats is much appreciated.  But the ‘on the head’ cat stuff really should end.

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I will admit there is one area that our cats do misbehave…in the kitchen.  Cats on the table and on the counter, I know some people find that disgraceful.  But in reality, even if I do chase them off, they will only go back on when I am not home.  So why make them hypocrites.   This way we all know…the cats like the sunshine on the table.   They like the cool of the counters in the summer.

Our cats greet children on Halloween. 

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They help me read and watch television.   They help me learn to take big steps to get out of the shower. They entertain us.  Whenever a package arrives, the box provides days of activity for our cats.  Which in turns provides hours of entertainment for us.

I think the empty nest syndrome would be so much worse for me if it were not for my cats.  I did realize how silent the house would be without my children.   I did not realize how much I would miss their hugs, their arguments and their presence.   At least with my cats I still have someone to talk to and to hug.  I hope my children realize how lucky they are that I have my cats….

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Joyful, Fun and Insightful blogs

4 Nov

I decided that this November I would start writing again, sharing my opinions and ideas about life.  I did this for nine years as a commentary writer for the Leawood/Blue Valley Neighborhood News section of the Kansas City Star.  And since I have stopped, there have often been times when I said…I should write about that.  But there was no where to publish my essay.  Today, I start anew with my own blog site.

What do I have to offer?   I am a schmoozer and a writer.  I love people.  I love to watch people. I love to talk to people.  I volunteer.  I work.  I parent.  I interact with the world.  And the world as I see it is often happy and funny.   Yes, I have been through difficult times, as have many.  But I always seem to be able to find something happy in the world.  

I do not agree with the “yes, but” people, who always seem to see the negative in what happens.  For me the world is yes, but for the positive.   During a difficult 18 month period when my family suffered the loss of many loved ones, I thought I lost my happiness.  It was a struggle, but I realized life needs to be lived for joy.   And that is how I live.  I look for the joy in the moment and the happiness to share.

Giving makes me happy.   I love buying gifts.  Even though my children are adults,  I find a way to be in the children’s toys and clothes departments….because I adopt a child for the holidays.  Going through the store, finding just the right gifts, brings me joy. Then for moments I can forget any sadness.

So for my blog I will try to show my view on the world…a little slanted…but I hope joyful, fun and insightful.  I named my Blog for memories.  But it will not be memories that are always from the past, instead it will be memories that come each day. Events I want to remember. The photo shows a day I always wish to remember, the last family event when we were altogether.  Before the sadness came.   I love to focus on the happy.

 So Lara…here is my first blog post.  Thank you!Image

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