Ma died much too early, and I was blessed that she died in my arms. My memories of her are clear and always with a sense of her love, softness, and capacity to enjoy the little things in life. For her, it was Pa, her children, friends, and the Friday night Odessa Club gatherings. There she enjoyed the food, drinks and, mostly, the dancing. She loved to dance, and Pa and I loved to watch. Pa would have a few drinks, have a wonderful dialogue with friends, hug everyone and watch Ma dance.
My sister, Annette, knew a few of Ma’s stories from her childhood and life in a village near Odessa. Sadly, I never did ask Ma about her past so what Annette shared with me is precious. Such as the story of Ma losing her five brothers defending the village against marauding Cossacks and then witnessing her mother’s anguish and grief. How deeply scarred was Ma? Very deep, and how did this event manifest itself as a mother of her own five children?
My brother, Hy, when he came home from New Guinea, where he served with McArthur, was an 85-pound mass of jungle maladies, from severe malaria to dysentery. He was treated by a nurse he fell in love with. she was not Jewish, so Hy called home and told Ma he wanted to marry his nurse. Ma’s history ruled, and she told Hy that if they had children, she could not accept them as her grandchildren.
Hy could not go against Ma (none of us could) and ended his relationship with his nurse. When he was reasonably healed, he returned to Chicago and married a Jewish girl, which was a disaster. Ma never forgave herself. So, when I brought Lenette home to meet Ma, she gave Lenette total love. It was why Ma came to her first Christmas party. “Events dictate,” Ma grew. Her past remained, but not the power to control. No human is trapped by their past. Ma wasn’t, nor should anyone be.
Sy