Personal Childhood Web

This was a very difficult posting for me.  I was brought up in an amazing family atmosphere.  I did not realize then how lucky I was.  These individuals held the glue together, and perhaps, we were not strong enough to keep the pieces together.  So much changed as I lost each one of them, especially my mom whose passing is still new to me.  This posting has taught me so much about what really is important.  It also brought out a lot of teachers, because I wonder if they understood how important they were to me and our family.  I wish that I could thank them personally.  I hope they knew and understood. 

Martha Cohen, my mom… I lost my mom about a year ago, and it’s extremely hard for me to write this.  My mom was the “perfect” mom.  She was totally involved in my life, and she always wanted what was best for me and for my sister.  She was my class mom, my Brownie leader, and my drama coach.  My mom made the best spaghetti sauce (yum, I can smell it now), read me stories, and played board games.  As a child, my mom supported everything that I tried and tried again.  She encouraged me.  She advocated for me.  I remember when I wanted to be in the choir in Kindergarten.  The small problem was that I could not carry a tune, but I loved music.  My mom went to school, and although I do not know what she said, I was initiated into the choir the next day.  Years later, I asked mom about this, and she said that I was too young to be turned away from something as wonderful as music.  Yes, although she did not have a college degree, she was one of the smartest women I ever knew.  She made me feel special, and she encouraged me to be “me.”   My mom was my best friend, and I know that she would be proud that I am going back to college.  I am who I am today because of my mom.

Alexander Cohen, my dad… I lost my dad when I was 16 years old.  I remember that he was my buddy and that he loved our family more than anything.  My dad taught me to be a hard worker and never give up.  Along with my mom, he taught me the wonder of reading.  When I look back, I remember going to a daddy/daughter dance.  It must have been in 2^nd or 3^rd grade, and I wore a white dress (I can picture this dress, and it isn’t a pretty picture today.  However, then, it was the best, I guess!).  I remember dancing with my dad, and I can see him looking down at me telling me that he had the best daughter in the world and how very much he loved me.  I remember that moment as if it were today.   I still miss him.

Irene Smith came into our family as a worker in my grandmother’s hair salon.  At times, she would babysit my sister and me.  She became a part of our family.  Irene was strict with me, and although we tried to change her thoughts, she stuck to my parent’s rules.  Although she wasn’t a blood relative, she was family.  I can remember the “fights” we got into because she didn’t let me stay out late or talk on the phone longer or… but in spite of this, I knew that she cared.  Irene taught me about an extended family.  She brought a different culture into our life by sharing. 

Sylvia Cohen was my dad’s sister-n-law, and she was the glue that held my dad’s side of the family together.  I loved my Aunt Sylvia.  She would arrange for family parties and think of  fun events to pull us all together.  I remember picking apples with her at my grandfather’s farm and then, our entire family made apple pie.  We played baseball while the pie cooked.  We spent holidays together with my dad’s entire family (he was one of 5 boys) because of my Aunt Sylvia.  When she passed away, our family split.  I hardly ever saw that side of my family, and the family gatherings seized too.  I know this would have made her unhappy.  I missed her spunk, and her sense of humor.  She taught me what family “should” be.

Esther Goldstein was a neighbor.  She was my mom’s best friend, and her husband was my father’s best friend.  To my sister and I, she was Aunt Esther, and we spent a lot of time together.   Aunt Esther taught me the meaning of friendship as I watched her interact with my mom.  They were like sisters, maybe better.  Aunt Esther cared about me, and she listened to me read stories to her that I wrote as a child.  I remember sitting on her couch reading stories together.  One day, she made me a vest.  It was made from fabric swatches that she had around the house; her daughter had a vest like that, and I loved it.  Aunt Esther explained that it took forever to make such a vest, and she just did not have the time to make another.  Then, one day, she gave me a vest like her daughter’s.  She told  me that she made the vest for me because I was like a 2^nd daughter to her.  I’ll never forget those words, and I kept the vest for a long time.  Aunt Esther taught me to go after my dreams and that my words were important.