March 3, 2021
March 3, 2021
FOR MOM
Good day,
Thank you for attending and listening. I will try to be brief, but when I think of my Mother, and my family, it is hard for me to discuss the topic in a few minutes, but I will try to state my feelings as briefly as possible
My Mother, in my opinion had escaped death several times in recent years. During surgery, four years ago, that she was not guaranteed to survive, during her battle with the coronavirus, last spring and then most recently, with the ailments that would ultimately take her life. I recall the Staff Physician, at Alliance Healthcare, where my Mother lived, calling me last spring. The Doctor told me that my Mother, who had coronavirus, was spiking a temperature. The Doctor added in many cases, this was the beginning of the end. Although I believed that my Mother may not survive, at that time She did beat the Coronavirus.
My Mother was subjected to more than she should have been. I feel she battled through to the bitter end. There is much solace knowing she was able to see many of her family members before she passed, through a video conferencing call, five days before her death. Particularly, after a ten-month period of forced isolation resulting from the Coronavirus quarantine.
If I might, let me discuss a story about my family:
This brings me back to a Halloween, the best that I can guess, we are talking about 1971, it might have been 1970, or 1972. I would have been seven years old on Halloween, 1971. I remember clearly, all these years later, with my Brother going trick-or-treating. After the excursion, I remember viewing my booty, taking a mental inventory of this beautiful bounty.
As with any good seven-year-old boy, I was prepared to jump right into the bag of goodies, that evening. However, my parents reminded me and my Brother that it was getting late and it was bedtime. The candy would wait until tomorrow, and we could have some of the candy that next day.
Well the evening of the next day came, the time to enjoy all this delicious candy had arrived! You can understand my seven-year-old mind seeing this bounty. However, to my amazement, the candy that my parents presented, was not the candy I had received trick-or-treating. I had spent hours detailing exactly how many snickers bars, Hershey bars, ext. I had received, and what I had inventoried was not what my parents presented, in front of me.
Obviously, in my mind, I realized the horrible truth. My parents had eaten my Halloween candy and replaced my bounty with imposters. Again, I was about seven years old. Now you probably understand what happened. You understand, particularly if you remember Halloweens in the early 1970s, you know what I later understood, when I got older. My parents did not eat my candy, I suspect with the concerns of tainted Halloween candy, of that period, what my Brother and I had actually received was discarded and replaced with candy my parents had bought themselves, knowing it was untouched. This way, we would be able to enjoy the season, without any concerns of tainted candy.
The point I am trying to make isn't about candy, or trick-or-treating. The point I am trying to emphasize is that almost fifty years later, I remember that Halloween. If either of my parents were around today, they most likely would deny it happened, not because they wanted to lessen the event, but because they would not even remember the story, because I suspect it would not have been a big deal to them, they were simply doing what parents were supposed to do, protect their children.
My comments are not entirely directed at only my parents, but all parents, and ultimately, all of us and how we are obligated to take care of one another. The lesson my Parents taught, not by words, but by actions. Now, if you think I made up or exaggerated my memory or recall, I would like to recall other memories.
For example, I recall at about the same time trying to learn to ride a bicycle, without training wheels. After much effort, I finally was able to ride my bicycle, without those training wheels. One summer day, I rode down Farrington Street. Unbeknownst to me, my Uncle Eddie saw me ride the bicycle. He congratulated me for learning to ride a bike and gave me a quarter.
Now that story was not about an Uncle, a Nephew, or a quarter. It is about how we operate our lives and how seemingly small events affect us, particularly as children, and how those memories are recalled decades later, and how those events and memories shape those children, who will grow into adults. The key isn't that my Uncle gave me a quarter for learning how to ride a bike, but that I now remember that act of kindness fifty years later.
Just a few more memories, please. Most of you know my Father was a member of the Fire Department. As a Firefighter, my Father would often work evenings and weekends. I remember my Uncle Hugo on weekend evenings would visit his Sister, my Mother.
We, as an extended family would play a simple board game. That game was the board game, Trouble. When I, and my Brother would play Trouble with my Mother and Uncle Hugo, it was quite enjoyable, for us as children, But I hope my Mother and Uncle found enjoyment, as well.
One more recollection, please. I remember what must have been forty years ago, at this point. My Father, Brother, and myself, along with my Uncle Lino went to the now closed racetrack. Do not tell anyone, but I don't believe my Brother or I were of legal age to gamble at the time. But back then, there was less strict enforcement. Well, after an evening of gambling, three out of the four of us lost money. My Father, my Brother, and myself were inexperienced gamblers, we all lost money. My Uncle Lino, on the other hand, was a better and more experienced gambler, he won!
That is not the story, the point is that afterwards, when we were all leaving, my Uncle asked me how much I had lost, my reply, five or ten dollars, he then asked my Brother, "how much did you lose", his reply, the same answer. He then asked our Father the same question and my Father had a similar reply, ten or twenty dollars. My Uncle then paid me my losses, paid my Brother, and then paid my Father. We all left that evening whole.
Once again, and you will recognize the point. This story isn't about gambling, or losses. It is about kindness and compassion. I remember this, decades later. For years to come my Brother and I would discuss what my Uncle did. Sure you can understand paying us, we were kids, but he also gave our Father what he lost and our Father was an adult. My Brother and I spoke of that kindness for decades.
Many of you know that prior to the quarantine restrictions, I would visit my Mother in the Nursing home, frequently. We would play cards, often with one of my Mother's nursing home friends, Herbie Merritt. Herbie would later pass away from COVID-19, may you rest in peace, Herbie. But, back to the point, I did not visit my Mother and play cards out of guilt or a feeling of responsibility, I played cards with my Mother, and other residents of the nursing home because I enjoyed playing cards with them. I didn't feel I was playing cards with old people, I just felt like I was playing cards. Much like I hope my Mother and Uncle truly enjoyed playing "trouble". I want you to know that although there were times when my Mother or Herbie, in their advanced years, would not make the best strategic move and I took that into consideration, that for the most part, the games were played straight, whoever had the best hand won, no special advantage, for anybody. These games were taken seriously. So seriously, that I will tell you, as long as you don't tell anyone else, that I sometimes suspected that Herbie might have been cheating. Now I don't mind, because if he was, that was evidence to me that he not only was part of the game, but at 90 years old, he was still part of life and competition meant something.
It is both sad and happy that I spent this time with my Mother. As I say, I enjoyed the card games. However, I am not happy to say that it took my Mother being a resident. For me to spend "quality time" with my Mother. How I wish that we had just spent more time playing board games, or cards, during her life.
Was life perfect? No, not at all. Neither of my parents were perfect, any more than I was a perfect Son, Brother, or I am a perfect Husband. But as my memories prove, there are a lot more good memories, than bad memories. This brings me to a saying you may have heard, one that describes my Father, my Mother, and my Brother, in other words, my family, that saying is: "We may not have it altogether, but together we have it all", or put another way we were not perfect, but we sure seemed perfect together.
Mom, may you rest in peace and enjoy eternity in heaven. You certainly paid your toll and earned your wings!
Love, you Son
Good day,
Thank you for attending and listening. I will try to be brief, but when I think of my Mother, and my family, it is hard for me to discuss the topic in a few minutes, but I will try to state my feelings as briefly as possible
My Mother, in my opinion had escaped death several times in recent years. During surgery, four years ago, that she was not guaranteed to survive, during her battle with the coronavirus, last spring and then most recently, with the ailments that would ultimately take her life. I recall the Staff Physician, at Alliance Healthcare, where my Mother lived, calling me last spring. The Doctor told me that my Mother, who had coronavirus, was spiking a temperature. The Doctor added in many cases, this was the beginning of the end. Although I believed that my Mother may not survive, at that time She did beat the Coronavirus.
My Mother was subjected to more than she should have been. I feel she battled through to the bitter end. There is much solace knowing she was able to see many of her family members before she passed, through a video conferencing call, five days before her death. Particularly, after a ten-month period of forced isolation resulting from the Coronavirus quarantine.
If I might, let me discuss a story about my family:
This brings me back to a Halloween, the best that I can guess, we are talking about 1971, it might have been 1970, or 1972. I would have been seven years old on Halloween, 1971. I remember clearly, all these years later, with my Brother going trick-or-treating. After the excursion, I remember viewing my booty, taking a mental inventory of this beautiful bounty.
As with any good seven-year-old boy, I was prepared to jump right into the bag of goodies, that evening. However, my parents reminded me and my Brother that it was getting late and it was bedtime. The candy would wait until tomorrow, and we could have some of the candy that next day.
Well the evening of the next day came, the time to enjoy all this delicious candy had arrived! You can understand my seven-year-old mind seeing this bounty. However, to my amazement, the candy that my parents presented, was not the candy I had received trick-or-treating. I had spent hours detailing exactly how many snickers bars, Hershey bars, ext. I had received, and what I had inventoried was not what my parents presented, in front of me.
Obviously, in my mind, I realized the horrible truth. My parents had eaten my Halloween candy and replaced my bounty with imposters. Again, I was about seven years old. Now you probably understand what happened. You understand, particularly if you remember Halloweens in the early 1970s, you know what I later understood, when I got older. My parents did not eat my candy, I suspect with the concerns of tainted Halloween candy, of that period, what my Brother and I had actually received was discarded and replaced with candy my parents had bought themselves, knowing it was untouched. This way, we would be able to enjoy the season, without any concerns of tainted candy.
The point I am trying to make isn't about candy, or trick-or-treating. The point I am trying to emphasize is that almost fifty years later, I remember that Halloween. If either of my parents were around today, they most likely would deny it happened, not because they wanted to lessen the event, but because they would not even remember the story, because I suspect it would not have been a big deal to them, they were simply doing what parents were supposed to do, protect their children.
My comments are not entirely directed at only my parents, but all parents, and ultimately, all of us and how we are obligated to take care of one another. The lesson my Parents taught, not by words, but by actions. Now, if you think I made up or exaggerated my memory or recall, I would like to recall other memories.
For example, I recall at about the same time trying to learn to ride a bicycle, without training wheels. After much effort, I finally was able to ride my bicycle, without those training wheels. One summer day, I rode down Farrington Street. Unbeknownst to me, my Uncle Eddie saw me ride the bicycle. He congratulated me for learning to ride a bike and gave me a quarter.
Now that story was not about an Uncle, a Nephew, or a quarter. It is about how we operate our lives and how seemingly small events affect us, particularly as children, and how those memories are recalled decades later, and how those events and memories shape those children, who will grow into adults. The key isn't that my Uncle gave me a quarter for learning how to ride a bike, but that I now remember that act of kindness fifty years later.
Just a few more memories, please. Most of you know my Father was a member of the Fire Department. As a Firefighter, my Father would often work evenings and weekends. I remember my Uncle Hugo on weekend evenings would visit his Sister, my Mother.
We, as an extended family would play a simple board game. That game was the board game, Trouble. When I, and my Brother would play Trouble with my Mother and Uncle Hugo, it was quite enjoyable, for us as children, But I hope my Mother and Uncle found enjoyment, as well.
One more recollection, please. I remember what must have been forty years ago, at this point. My Father, Brother, and myself, along with my Uncle Lino went to the now closed racetrack. Do not tell anyone, but I don't believe my Brother or I were of legal age to gamble at the time. But back then, there was less strict enforcement. Well, after an evening of gambling, three out of the four of us lost money. My Father, my Brother, and myself were inexperienced gamblers, we all lost money. My Uncle Lino, on the other hand, was a better and more experienced gambler, he won!
That is not the story, the point is that afterwards, when we were all leaving, my Uncle asked me how much I had lost, my reply, five or ten dollars, he then asked my Brother, "how much did you lose", his reply, the same answer. He then asked our Father the same question and my Father had a similar reply, ten or twenty dollars. My Uncle then paid me my losses, paid my Brother, and then paid my Father. We all left that evening whole.
Once again, and you will recognize the point. This story isn't about gambling, or losses. It is about kindness and compassion. I remember this, decades later. For years to come my Brother and I would discuss what my Uncle did. Sure you can understand paying us, we were kids, but he also gave our Father what he lost and our Father was an adult. My Brother and I spoke of that kindness for decades.
Many of you know that prior to the quarantine restrictions, I would visit my Mother in the Nursing home, frequently. We would play cards, often with one of my Mother's nursing home friends, Herbie Merritt. Herbie would later pass away from COVID-19, may you rest in peace, Herbie. But, back to the point, I did not visit my Mother and play cards out of guilt or a feeling of responsibility, I played cards with my Mother, and other residents of the nursing home because I enjoyed playing cards with them. I didn't feel I was playing cards with old people, I just felt like I was playing cards. Much like I hope my Mother and Uncle truly enjoyed playing "trouble". I want you to know that although there were times when my Mother or Herbie, in their advanced years, would not make the best strategic move and I took that into consideration, that for the most part, the games were played straight, whoever had the best hand won, no special advantage, for anybody. These games were taken seriously. So seriously, that I will tell you, as long as you don't tell anyone else, that I sometimes suspected that Herbie might have been cheating. Now I don't mind, because if he was, that was evidence to me that he not only was part of the game, but at 90 years old, he was still part of life and competition meant something.
It is both sad and happy that I spent this time with my Mother. As I say, I enjoyed the card games. However, I am not happy to say that it took my Mother being a resident. For me to spend "quality time" with my Mother. How I wish that we had just spent more time playing board games, or cards, during her life.
Was life perfect? No, not at all. Neither of my parents were perfect, any more than I was a perfect Son, Brother, or I am a perfect Husband. But as my memories prove, there are a lot more good memories, than bad memories. This brings me to a saying you may have heard, one that describes my Father, my Mother, and my Brother, in other words, my family, that saying is: "We may not have it altogether, but together we have it all", or put another way we were not perfect, but we sure seemed perfect together.
Mom, may you rest in peace and enjoy eternity in heaven. You certainly paid your toll and earned your wings!
Love, you Son
