March 24, 2015--Ladies of Forest Trace: Wit & Wisdom

Here are the first four of ten brief conversations with my mother about my just published book--Obama, Oy Vey: The Wit and Wisdom of My 107-Year-Old Mother.

The other six will be available tomorrow. The link to the book is at the very bottom of this posting:

One

“You’re what?”

I mumbled, “Writing a book.”

“I can’t hear you. My batteries are dying.”

“A book,” I said louder, “I’m writing a book” my mother leaned toward me as if needing to read my lips.

“A book?”

“Yes.”

“About education? Like your other ones?”

“No. This one is different. It’s about--” I was muttering again.

“About your travels? You’ve been everywhere.”

“Not exactly.”

“Whenever I turn around you’re somewhere else. Always running, running.”

“That’s not true, Mom, we spend months here in Florida every year to be close to you. And—“

“And then you run away to who knows where.”

“Also not true. We go to New York then to Maine and then come back here. We’ve been doing that now for seven years, as I said, to be--”

“Be with me. This is what you tell me. While waiting for me to—“

I cut her off. “Not waiting. Just to get away from the cold winters and to be able to see you often while—“

“While the same thing happens to me that happens to my batteries.”

Two

She had me there since what she was saying was, in part, true. It was Rona’s idea seven years ago, when my mother turned 100, that since there would likely not be that much time remaining and we were not obligated to be anywhere particular, why not spend a few months a year close to her and enjoy some of her final days. And now those final days have stretched wonderfully and miraculously to almost seven full years and she is nearly 107.

“So then what is this book about?”

“You.”

“What?”

“You. The book’s about you. About the things we’ve talked about the past six or seven years.”

“About my aches and pains?”

“Some of that. But not that much since you’ve fortunately been blessed not to have too many of those or anything worse.”

“Worse it could always be.”

“And you’re not a complainer like so many—“

“Alta cockers.”

I ignored that and said, “The book is more about how you reflect on the meaning of your very long life, your ideas and concerns about the next generation, the changes you’ve seen, the things you are still looking forward to. Are passionate about.”

“That I can tell you in one sentence.”

“What’s that?”

“That what I look forward to these days is my next nap. So hurry up before I fall asleep on the phone.”

In fact on occasion she has nodded off while we were talking so I rushed to say, “Let me give you an example.”

“Speak louder.”

Three

“Was I dreaming?”

“I don’t know. About what?”

“What else.”

I knew about the what-else. “That’s understandable, Mom. After all—“ I was struggling to be honest but couldn’t bring myself to be. For what purpose, I asked myself. Sometimes it makes more sense to ignore and pretend.

“Did you say you’re writing a book?”

“Yes.”

“So I do remember things. One or two things.” She chuckled.

“More than that.” That at least was half true.

“About me?”

“Yes. And me. The things we’ve been talking about. For years. How much you’ve taught me and--”

“Now all I have to talk about is what they make me for lunch. Cottage cheese and fruit and sometimes chicken soup. About this I know and talk about. So about cottage cheese you’re writing a book?

“Not exactly.”

Four

“What’s it called then? The book.”

“I’m not sure you’ll like the title or some of the things I’ve written. But still I want you to know what it’s about.”

“I don’t have all day so just—“

“Obama, Oy Vey.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s what the publisher is calling it.”

“I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The goyim won’t buy it.”

To get information about Obama, Oy Vey, click below--

http://www.amazon.com/Obama-Oy-Vey-Wisdom-107-Year-Old-ebook/dp/B00UMPGYAS/ref=sr_1_sc_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1426862310&sr=1-1-spell&keywords=steven+zwerlinc