We were standing, smiling, thinking. The sun shined as Harriet and I studied her mother’s stone. Claire Rose Galan (accent second syllable) would have been one hundred this August. What a sweet woman.
It was Mother’s Day—a time to remember, to be grateful.
Exiting the cemetery on to what used to be South Refugee Road, my mind scanned the canvas of a past filled with one wonderful mother and several women that gave me a mother’s love. Each, it occurred, shared something different.
I met Harriet’s mom when I was twenty. Her warm heart not only welcomed our father to the fold, but his kids as well. We called her “GALANma.” As years passed her door was always open. Indeed, on occasion I would stay there and, (truth be known), she never quite understood why I’d sleep with the TV on. Many a time I’d wake up to silence, Galanma having tiptoed in mid-night, to turn it off.
Our natural grandmothers were worlds apart:
Celia Sharp Hoffman Porter was born here. She showed our Mom how to multi-marry; she taught us all perseverance. Loving, but not one to coddle, it was from her lips FIRST that I heard that grinding admonition: “Bruce, when are you going to grow up?”
Gladys Bogart spoke seven languages. Of Polish birth, she was elegant, stately and rarely laughed—except at herself. “Old world,” radiating traditional values and a steadfast devotion to Judaism, she taught me, among other things, to respect books and to honor our heritage.
Harriet, of course, was the love of our dad’s life. Just as clearly, she’s been a blessing in ours. From her debut Chanukah. ’69, (noshing Marilyn’s latkes at 20 East 14), through four decades of life cycle events (most occurring post-Albert)…Harriet has stood tall. Through her actions as much as words the message stays clear: Family is not bordered by bloodlines—it is bounded by love.
Our mother, to be sure, could be unique. Still, a simple woman, (in the highest sense), Elaine Hoffman Bogart (86 Bogart) Lerner Turner wanted no more than to love and be loved. Today’s travails confirm her life-long lesson: Laughter is indeed, the best medicine. She gave us our senses of humor, and therefore, riches.
We turned onto Broad Street for brunch with Jeffrey, Shari and Leslie. Focusing on one final “mother,” I thought of Ed. “Itzy,” you see, caught our mom on the back nine. Turns out he was the biggest MOTHER of them all! Stole not only her heart but also ……oh well…
I guess that’s why we got her sense of humor.
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