Steve Israel: Moms are people too. This Mother's Day, get to know yours
When my mother-in-law Peg was in her early 90s a few years ago, she was reading aloud some written memories of her youth when she mentioned a handsome boy she had dated named Norman. My father-in-law Joe, also in his 90s, looked up from his New York Times crossword puzzle, and with a quizzical tone that sounded a bit like jealousy, asked, “Norman, who’s Norman?”
On this Mother’s Day, I’m so lucky to have a mother-in-law like Peg who can share moments that reveal her not “just” as a wonderful mother-in-law who still remembers to reward my sweet tooth with chocolates, but as a woman I can know with a life apart from being a mom. I love how Peg and I can chat about everything from her remarkably open-minded politics to that amazing St. Peter’s University basketball team in her hometown Jersey City – and, of course, Norman.
I just wish that my mom, who died when I was 26, lived long enough so that we could hang out as adults. I’d love to be learning more about her as a person who once was a kid and a grownup like me with a life and dreams of her own – and not “only” as a mom who devoted her life to trying to make sure I became a good person who treats people of all races, religions and sexes with respect.
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Sure, I learned a bit about the non-mom part of her life while she was alive. She once told me how, as a girl in Bayonne, New Jersey, she would go to parties and be miffed that the boys would flock not to her and her girlfriends but the pretty girl who just stood by herself.
I even caught a glimpse of my mom’s life as a single woman whose husband (my father) died when I was a baby. I still remember hearing her laughing as she and a date hung out in our living room while I played with toys in my room, feeling yucky and probably a bit possessive.
But as I grew up into an independent adult in my 20s, my mom got sick with the breast cancer that would claim her life at just 62.
So while we had the occasional dinner and went to the occasional Broadway show in New York City where I lived, my most powerful memories as a young adult and only child were about taking care of my mom.
I remember sleeping on the floor of her bedroom when the cancer and chemotherapy made her too weak to get up to go to the bathroom by herself.
I remember just about carrying her down our front steps on her last trip to the hospital when she was in too much pain to walk by herself.
My mother didn’t live long enough so we could really talk about what my father was like, and the hopes and dreams they shared that were shattered by his death. He died when she was just 37 and I was one.
My mother didn’t live long enough to know about my career at the Times Herald-Record writing about subjects that we could have discussed as adults, like my exposes of abusive priests or columns about corrupt politicians.
Most importantly, my mother didn’t live long enough to meet my wife. Oh, how I wish they could have had tea together and discussed everything from her published novel to her paintings that are featured in shows. And of course, I would have loved my mom to meet Peg and Joe. My mom and Peg, from Jersey City, right next to Bayonne, might even have gossiped about old boyfriends, like Norman.
On this Mother’s Day and every day, I hope you can do something I sorely miss: Cherish your mom not only as a mom, but as a person with a heart, soul and life that made her who she is – and who you are.
Happy Mother’s Day.
steveisrael53@outlook.com
This article originally appeared on Times Herald-Record: Steve Israel: Moms are people too. For Mother's Day, get to know yours
