Thanks, Mom, for always treating me like I was someone special

Someone once said, “Guilt ... thy name is mother,” and while in the past, mothers were often unfairly blamed for everything wrong with their children, from autism to Zellweger syndrome, it is true that mothers have a great influence over how we view ourselves and others as well as our basic approach to life.

As I age, I have come to realize and appreciate more and more, the special gifts my mother gave to me. I will catch myself reflecting on something or reacting to a situation and recall something my mother said or did. One major gift which I will have to credit both parents for was exposure to and acceptance of people of varying religious faiths and skin color.

I recall helping a little girl named Michele recite and memorize her catechism on the way home from school as well as Friday evening Shabbat dinner at the home of my bosom buddy, Lillian Rudnetsky. Not just acceptance of, but complete indifference to, others ethnicity and religion is a huge gift because so many adults are never able to completely undo the biases they learned as children.

It was my mother, however, who handed down other special gifts; although money was tight, she saved quarters and dimes so she could take me to the theater, a constant pleasure for me to this day. Whenever I sit transfixed as the lights dim and a curtain rises, I invariably say a silent, “Thank you, Mom.” My mother also consistently told me and treated me as though I was very special and because of that, only my very best effort at anything I did, was good enough.

She was an expert seamstress and made most of my clothes, waiting for the sales on the best British woolens or finest cottons and searching out special trimmings and buttons. She passed down not only her sense of style, but also her appreciation of excellent workmanship. “Something good may become old, but it will always be good,” she would say.

Later on, when I traveled and could afford to send her some luxuries, I sought out the most exquisite small items I could find; a butter-soft leather wallet from Spain, note paper from Venice and a gossamer silk scarf from Paris, because I knew she adored and appreciated their quality and elegance.

Even though she loved fine things, my mother instilled her very British code of “stiff upper lip” and “keep calm and carry on” in the face of difficulty. Not only was I expected to achieve high marks in all subjects, I consistently had perfect attendance awards because my mother felt you were either in school or hospitalized.

She was strict about what she felt were important matters, but also optimistic and cheerful with a ready laugh. Although her schooling never went beyond high school, she was better educated than my father, a college graduate. An avid reader, she spent many hours reading to me; first, children’s stories then graduating to the classics.

When my boys were small, we were living abroad; but when my daughter was born, my mother was nearby, so she was also a major influence on Marianne. To this day, Marianne will remark, “What do you think Grandma would have done?” I know she, too, is remembering the lessons and values from my mother.

So this Mother’s Day, more important than the usual flowers, gifts or dinner, we might take time to recall and appreciate the lasting gifts our mothers have given us. And if you are fortunate enough to still have your mother with you, be sure to thank her. Continued...

Contact Jean Cherni, certified senior adviser for Senior Living Solutions and Pearce Plus, a helpful, full-service program for seniors contemplating a move, at jeancherni@sbcglobal.net or 15 The Ponds at 101 Hotchkiss Grove, Branford 06405.

I'm reading: Thanks, Mom, for always treating me like I was someone special