My mother grew up in Brooklyn.  A graduate of Tilden High School.

My mom was a popular gal in high school.  She was part of a troika- two Shirleys and a Sylvia.  (Sorry, I only know their married names, not their maiden names.)   And, her father, Sol Kuchlik, had become a fairly successful dress designer and manufacturer when he returned from the World War (WW1), so my mom was clearly ensconced in middle class life.

My grandmother (my mom’s mom) and her sister were really close.  They lived in a duplex, side by side.  And, my Aunt Ray had a son, Teddy, that was born almost on the same day as my mom.  These two kids lived their lives as pseudo-twins.

As a matter of fact, the family participated in one of the routines that have falling by the wayside.  They had a summer home near Monticello, NY.  (It was jointly owned with my Aunt Ray and her husband, as well as my grandparents.) (It was contiguous to the Fallsview and Neville Hotels, and not too far from Grossingers.)  This was the region that was purchased by Jews, who were barred from other resort locations.  (Anti-Semitism has a long history in the USA.)   And, my mom was very friendly with the scions of the Fallsview and Neville- even after she stopped dating them and married my dad.

After high school, my mom enrolled at Brooklyn College and took a job at Governor’s Island.  (This is a small island off the coast of Manhattan.)

What did she do at Governor’s Island?   This was the headquarters of the US Army, beginning way back in the 1870s.  And, my mom was the chief civilian officer for the 1^st Army, which maintained it’s headquarters there.

Until she lost her job when the Pentagon was built (on the site of the former Herbert Hoover Airport in Arlington)- and all those women were replaced by the newfangled IBM computer installed at the Pentagon.  (When my son went to U of Michigan, he would often study at North Campus.  He didn’t realize the significance of that picture on the wall with the computer and those women.  Until I showed him his grandma in that photo.)

Back to my mom.  Her friends were all dating guys that were being granted smicha (ordination as rabbis).  By my father.  So, my father met Estelle Kuchlik when he would travel with his friends.  And, he was smitten.

Now, my mom was Jewish- nominally.  I am sure her family might have shown up to shul at least once during the year.  But, you can bet that the folks who employed my dad (he was the Chief Rabbi) would not find her a suitable mate.

But, as you learned when I wrote about my dad, he became a rabbi out of family tradition and obligations.  It wasn’t what he expected to do for his whole life.

Nope.  He quit being a rabbi, began working for his brother, and married my mother on Halloween 1948.  And, they made a home in Kew Gardens (Queens).   Moving to Long Island (Forest City) in 1953.

My mom learned to drive in 1958.  Which was pretty cool for me, since I was commissioned to ride my bike until she could drive and go shopping in the month of May when my father took his long, long trip.  It gave me freedom, it gave me confidence to travel fairly long distances.

It’s how I became a patron of Ed’s Hobby Shop in East Meadow, where I amplified the Lionel Porter Chemistry set I received for my birthday.  (OK.  I might have gone overboard.  I did blow up my parent’s house with an experiment that went wrong.  Thinking that Pyrex test tubes don’t break when heated- unless of course, you’ve created a small bomb.)

Once my mom learned to drive, she became interested in working again.  She sold accordions and accordion lessons.  She sold the World Book. (OK.   That was probably so she could get me an encyclopedia for free- which I read from A to Z – and the index by the time I was 8.)

She managed a wallpaper printing company.  From there, she became a bank teller, when the wallpaper printing company folded.   My mom was also the first lecturer (other than the founder Jean Nidetch) Weight Watchers ever had.  She signed up to lose 18 pounds so she would be drop dead gorgeous for my bar mitzva.  And, my mother ALWAYS had the gift of gab.

But, then, she wanted to make real money.  So, she found a job she really loved- she arranged temporary assignments for folks to replace those on vacation.

One of the funniest stories I recall about that position was when she had a four month position to fill.  She first sent out a well qualifed guy- Joseph Soap.  Who worked for about two weeks, and then she assigned Frank Janitor to the position.  Followed by David Launder.  The client was really worried who’d my mom send out next.

My mother was great at rhymes. I wouldn’t really call it poetry; it was more like ditties.  She would volunteer her services to our school- writing posters, ads, and plays to entertain the kids and parents (and to raise money.)   To be honest, I probably inherited- or learned how to create poetry- from her.

Eventually, she convinced my dad to sell our house and move to Florida.  Except, once that happened, my dad was diagnosed with lymphoma, leukemia, and Kaposi’s sarcoma.  Which meant within 9 months of relocating to Boca Raton, my mom was a widow.

Fortunately, in the next hospital room to my father, a woman was dying.  And, my mom and Lewis Kaplan (the other resident’s husband) became friends during those hospital visits.  And, when his wife died, Lewis married my mom.

Lewis was a very wealthy man.  He had started a little company that became really, really big and sold it.  And, he took my mother to places she always wanted to go.  They went on cruises, three, four, or five times a year.  They traveled to exotic places.

And, my mom learned how to play golf.  Since Lewis was a crack golfer.  His handicap was zero. Yes, zero.  It was hilarious watching him on Tuesdays, when it was lady’s day- and he’d sweat bullets until they cleared off the course so he could get his 36 holes in that day.

Lew was older than my mom and he passed away after about 10 years of blissful marriage.  My mom found her way to create her own life, spending as much time as she could with her friends- and my two daughters. (My son, much younger than his siblings, had a long way before he was born.)

In 1997, my mom notified me that she wasn’t going to come to Shira’s (myyounger daughter) bat mitzva.  It seems that on the 20^th of May, while walking up the steps to a restaurant, she tripped, fell, and bruised herself all over.  (I should probably let you know that my mother would 4 inch  heels every day of her life.  Losing her balance, especially at her age, wouldn’t be out of the question.)

But, I was astounded she’d pass on Shira’s bat mitzva. I reminded her when Shira was born, she said she wanted to be at her bat mitzva.  (In retrospect, it was interesting that she did not say her wedding…)   She was alive, she should be there- we won’t care what she looks like.  My mother came- and had a wonderful time.  She flew back to Florida on 27 May – and never made it home.  She spent the next 97 days at the JFK Hospital.  Mostly with me by her side.

On the 95th day, it was clear she was not getting better.  I told her she was not going to leave the hospital, if she didn’t eat anything.  So, she complained about the food- and asked me to pick her up a hot pastrami sandwich.  (I now know where I developed my predilection for same.)  Which meant I had to drive about 55 miles to find one.  (I keep kosher; I would never consider buying a non-kosher food item for another Jew, regardless of their beliefs.)  Which she devoured.   And, never ate another meal.

On the morning of 1 September, I called my brother and told him to get here (Florida).  NOW!  She died that day.  On Rosh Chodesh Elul.  A minor Jewish holiday.  (One that actually is two days long.  And, where the first day is the anniversary of Shira’s older sister’s bat mitzva… Bookends.)