I woke up remembering my mother today, not only because it’s Mother’s Day but because of the everlasting, indelible impression she left behind. Henny Gurko was amazing—with a wicked sense of humor that inspired my edge. Her only downside was the delicious home cooked meals that rendered me rotund as a child. Thank God for the drug fueled 1970’s that helped get my body in check. So many people I know have unresolved issues with their parents: guilt, anger, resentment. I mean, grow up, move on and get over it. Yes, parents can be annoying, but so are their kids. So it’s a wash.
My mother was a concentration camp survivor. The fact that she managed to retain a sense of humor through that unconsionalbe nightmare can only be a testament to the resilience of her spirit. Who knows, maybe it was her sense of humor that saved her. They say, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. Then does that which makes you stronger, also makes you funny? (Discuss amongst yourselves.)
My father was no slouch either. He was sent to the labor camps in Siberia and escaped to join the underground smuggling women and children through the Alps to freedom. I can not and will never fathom what they went through for so many years but I am honored to have their genes.
I pity those who moan and groan about their parents and have little patience for anyone’s—especially my own—daily struggles. I have less tolerance for people who have the power to make different choices but don’t and whine about their circumstances. No matter how shitty things get, I always say, “Well, at least I am not coatless and shoeless in the dead of winter in the Rhineland”. Now there’s a cheery thought.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!