June 29, 2009--The Ladies of Forest Trace: Mom Turns 101

My mother turned 101 yesterday and you can only imagine all the excitement. Not just about the number, which is something, but because she is doing so well. The ladies in the Jennie Room where she takes her breakfast not only remembered this was her special day—and in truth for some remembering anything is remarkable—but when she got up to leave they broke into a spontaneous version of Happy Birthday. And then later that evening—insisting we shouldn’t make a fuss or spend a lot of money—her immediate and extended family gathered at the Creperie in Lauderhill, her favorite French restaurant, where she not only took pleasure in all the toasts and food but regaled us with stories from the vault of family lore. Some of which I should restrain myself from repeating. But at 101, one should have dispensation from feeling the need to cover up the truth from the next generations. So we heard for the first time about a not so distant cousin who back in the day was, as my mother put it, “sort of a hussy type who . . .” But then I promised not to tell.

Back at her apartment, after we put away all the presents, which she didn’t want but loved, and straightened out everything so her place looked just how she liked it, she said, “Sit down for a moment because I have a few things to talk to you about.” This sounded a little ominous, especially since she always wants us to get going because at that time of night in Florida there are “all kinds of people” on the road and she wants us to be safe. “Just for a moment.”

“Sure mom,” I said, exchanging a worried glance with Rona.

“You know how the girls are always taking about things.”

“Yes I certainly do. You tell me about what they say and then I write about them.”

She made a face because, as she has mentioned to me a few times, she and they do not always like my version of their conversations. Nonetheless, she continued. “We’re worried.”

“About what mom?” I wasn’t yet convinced that she was not going to tell us about her recent visit to her cardiologist and the results of the Echo Test that they gave her on Tuesday.

“Not what you’re thinking. I’m fine. My health that is. But about other things I’m not so happy.”

“Tell us,” Rona said.

“I’m concerned about the country. The girls too. We are feeling that we have so many problems and . . .”

I cut her off, not wanting her to end this remarkable day feeling sad and pessimistic. “But we’ve always had problems mom. We managed to . . .”

“I know what you are going to say,” it was her turn to do the cutting off, “That people my age—of which there are very few—lived through terrible wars and the Depression and discrimination and back in Europe the Holocaust and yet we prevailed. We won the wars—at least most of them—and came through in many ways better off. You remember when you were younger,” she turned to look directly at me,” that when you came to Florida the first time to visit Aunt Fannie and Uncle Harry how upset you were when you saw how colored people, which is what they were called then, were not allowed to go on the same beaches as white people. But now how black people here along with a majority of whites voted for Barack Obama and he not only won the state of Florida but also the presidency?”

“Yes, that is still amazing to me. How so much of that has been overcome. You see, mom,” I tried to get her to look on the positive side of things, “not everything but so much has gotten better. You’ve lived long enough to see how women . . .”

“I know what you are going to tell me. And you should since much is better. But that’s my point.”

“I’m not following you, mom, you’re confusing me. First you say you are feeling pessimistic but now you are admitting that things have gotten better.”

“If you would stop interrupting me I’ll tell you about what we’ve been talking about here. Downstairs. At dinner.” I leaned back in my chair to indicate I would be patient with her. “The reason things are in many ways better is because the people and the government made them better. This didn’t just happen. When we were threatened by the Nazis and then the communists what did we do? We did something. That’s what we did. Millions went into the army. Everyone back home pitched in. I was teaching at the time and so didn’t join Rosie and the other riveters at the Brooklyn Navy Yard but my sister Gussie did and Bertha too. Not doing riveting, though they could have, but they worked at night at the Brooklyn Terminal Market packing crates of things for the soldiers which were then shipped overseas. And before that when there was the Depression everyone helped family and neighbors who lost their jobs and their homes. For years my mother, your grandmother, had relatives sleeping in her apartment, at times two or three to a bed. And with what little she had she made do. Feeding all of them from her big pots of soup.

“And that’s not all. Our government was able to do things. Big things. I already mentioned how we treated black people, how terrible that was, but we finally did something about that. You know that most of us remember when women were not allowed to vote and we did something about that. It wasn’t easy. Nor was it to pass legislation for Negroes to vote. When was that? Some time in the 1960s I believe.”

“1964. The Voting Rights Act. That was . . .”

“Yes it was. When Lyndon Johnson was president. Look at what else he was able to do—and for the moment I’m forgetting about Vietnam, which was such a shonda—so many good things. And Congress went along with him.”

“They had to, mom, to get anything passed.”

“I know that. I know how this works. And that’s my point. Social Security, which I know FDR passed so there is no need to correct me, and the GI Bill and workers compensation and insurance for savings accounts and even Medicare which has been so good for us seniors. I know, I know, it costs too much and there are so many forms to fill out and there is abuse, but I remember before we had it, how my family was bankrupted when my mother and father both died from cancer. It’s not perfect, and as Obama and many others have said, it needs to be improved, but not to have it was even worse.”

I thought if this went on much further my mother would get so wound up she wouldn’t be able to sleep and then who knows what might happened; and so I said, “I understand, mom” and then, making an exaggerated gesture to mime looking at my watch, added, “It is getting late and I think . . .”

“You’re always putting me to bed.” She smiled at that because this is what I always used to say to her when I wanted to stay up for an extra half hour. “But indulge me a minute more. After all, how often will I get to be 101?”

“Never again,” Rona smiled, “but there’s always 102. In fact we made a reservation with Suzy at the Creperie for the same time next year.”

She blew a kiss to Rona but said, “So here’s what has us worried. We had all these big problems—even bigger than the one’s we face today. We are worried about Iran and atomic bombs. But we had Russia to worry about who had thousands of them and missiles. Remember the Missile Crisis just a few miles south of here?” I nodded. “Those were problems. And the others I mentioned. We found ways to solve them. But what about our problems today? Even though they are not as threatening what are we doing about them?”

She let that question float in the air for a moment. Then said, “Very little. We have a Democratic president and the Democrats control Congress and what are we hearing about healthcare and energy, as just two examples? We’re hearing bickering and partisanship and how if we do this the insurance companies will be unhappy and if we do that the doctors will be upset or the lawyers or the drug companies. But in the meantime too many do not have healthcare and many who have it are losing it or can’t afford to pay for the coverage they have and like. This is not a good thing because I am feeling that nothing meaningful will happen. Yes, so as not to embarrass Obama something will be approved. But it will not resemble anything the people really need.”

“Not that I disagree with you,” I said, “but aren’t there legitimate concerns about how much it would cost to do anything meaningful?”

“Yes there certainly are those questions, but somehow we managed to find a trillion dollars for the so-called prescription drug program, which is literally full of holes, and another trillion for that unnecessary war in Iraq and trillions to bail out the banks and the auto companies. And almost another trillion for the stimulus program. And how many other trillions to give tax breaks for corporations and rich people. That we somehow managed to do. The Republicans and the Democrats. Both of them. Why can’t we find a trillion for healthcare, assuming we can’t cut some of the costs, and a trillion for education, which is a bigger threat to us than Iraq or Iran, or a trillion to really fix up our roads and bridges, which are collapsing? Have you see what I-95 looks like? It’s falling apart. In America. A disgrace.” She came to a stop and sighed.

“I can’t disagree with anything you mentioned,” I finally said. “But I wish you wouldn’t worry about these things so much. You deserve now to lead a peaceful life. You have this wonderful place to live and the ladies, your friends, all . . .”

“You’re doing it again. Turning me into a little old lady,” she smiled at that, “True, I am old but I am far from being a little old lady. And neither are the girls. We didn’t come this far to just sit back and play canasta while we wait to die. We will never give up on our country. Even though, as I told you, I am pessimistic. That will never happen. But it’s up to you, now. And those younger than you. My grandchildren. Your nieces and nephew. We need to keep reminding them about what’s possible. What we came through and did and what they can accomplish if they have the courage to give up some of their comforts and fight not just for themselves but for others less fortunate. That there is enough for all. And I’m not just talking about things. In fact, I’m not talking about that at all. There are more important things than that. Like people's rights and opportunities. We have to help them remember this.”

She paused and then made the same kind of exaggerated gesture to look at her watch that I had half an hour before and said, rising from her chair without the aid of either her cane or walker, “You had better get going. It was a lovely evening. Thank you so much for that. Though you shouldn’t have spent so much money. One bottle of champagne would have been enough.” I shook my head. “But I did like having enough to get through all the wonderful toasts.”

We hugged her as if it might be the last time—one never knows at this point—and just before we turned to leave she said, “Remember what I said—if we can only find a way to put aside some of our differences and forget for a moment about what we think to be our private needs we can be great again. Though,” she couldn’t resist adding, “you know, I will continue to worry about you.”