come over to visit my mom! That continued throughout my life with my
friends and girlfriends. They truly loved sitting down with Mom to discuss
just about anything. Mom kept current and did not allow any generation gap
to form. She could launch into a conversation with Richie about Gene
Simmons and Kiss or any other rocker of the time.
Mom was always an “other directed” type of woman, starting a
conversation with “Tell Me about You!” Even during the last months of her
life, every time I called to ask how she was, I heard “I’m fine, now tell me
about you and New York and Mount Sinai….no Oyyyyy’s I am in pain.
Over my lifetime, mom and I always spoke often, and once they moved to
Atlanta we spoke several times a week. When dad died in 2001, we would
speak even more often, sometimes for hours at a time, and even 2-3 times
a day, and almost every day. It was our ritual. Mom missed the culture and
electricity of New York, and needed to live vicariously through my eyes.
She constantly wanted to know about the Met openings or Moma opening
or The Metropolitan Opera and Ballet I had seen. I once even called her
quietly during La Boehme during a Pavarotti Aria and held the phone on my
lap for the entire aria so she and dad could listen to him sing and hit the hi
C’s that she loved.
She especially wanted to hear about the times I spent with her favorite
actor/director Woody Allen, and one day I gave her the surprise of her life. I
did not go to Atlanta on this particular Thanksgiving and spent it with
Woody and his family. Woody generously picked up the phone and called
my mother, and reassured her I was OK. He said Bea; I just want you to
know that Ken is doing fine. I am keeping him off the streets today.
Mom was an intensely political woman who strived her whole life working
for human rights, social equality and against social injustices. Mom instilled
me with wonderful values, culture, art, liberal politics and good social
values early on in my life. I recall as a small child one Sunday going with
mom and dad and Steve with a lovely African American family, Alma and
Bill Holmes and their children, to visit the Statue of Liberty. I also recall
Mom and Dad inviting all of the African American employees of dad’s gas