Mum’s the Word
Senior Moments
By Charles P. Eberson
As in most holidays throughout the year, Mother’s Day can come with mixed feelings for many people. For some, as with myself, our mothers are no longer with us. My mother has been gone for eleven years. Others still have the company of their mother but the relationship is complicated; a mixture of love, obligation, patience, resentment, caretaker, etc. I was very fortunate in that my mother passed away at the age of eighty seven so I enjoyed her company for a long time. It was in the later years that I took a more focused interest in her past and in my column, I wrote a lengthy series about her experience as a teen living in London during what has been known as “The Blitz”; the bombing of London during World War II. It was a story of resilience and courage. She met my father who was in the Army Air Corps stationed in England, left her country and all the family she knew and got married in Ventnor. After a couple years of living in Philadelphia, mom and dad moved back to Ventnor and eventually Margate as their permanent home. No matter how long she lived in the U.S. she always referred to England as “home.” Every July 4th, I reminded her of the significance of the date in American history to which she would invariably reply, “America would have been better off had it still been part of the British Empire.” I must admit, there have been times since her passing that her quote has come to mind. Mum came from Russian and Polish parents who were no strangers to hard work. Her hands were not thin and delicate but thick and strong. She used those hands as a seamstress sewing uniforms during the war and continued her sewing until the end of her days. As I was growing up, a steady stream of ladies would arrive at our house bring in dresses and skirts for alterations. She did those alterations late into the night after she put my brother and me to bed. We were watching a show on TV one night about Atlantic City during the prohibition period and “Nucky” Johnson’s name was mentioned. “Nucky” was head of a corrupt political machine at the time in Atlantic City. In typical British understatement, she said, “Oh, I used to alter his clothes” and that was all she mentioned. My mother didn’t get her driver’s license until I was in 5th grade. Out of the three schools in Margate, Union Avenue was the farthest away so to be part of the carpool she had to take her turn. She got along fine on our little island but to venture farther afield her lack of a sense of direction became humorously evident. She would tell us where she was going and then came home hours later telling us of the circuitous path she took to get there, stopping often for directions. Still, it didn’t dissuade her from embarking off on her journeys. Even in her 80’s, when she would pull away from our home, her heavy foot on the accelerator would launch the car down the street leaving us laughing in its wake. It has been said that time heals all wounds. I cannot say the wound of her loss has healed but over the years, the memories of her laughter, her strength and her devotion to our family continues to make inroads against the loss. It is my hope that this Mother’s Day, we take time to show mothers who are still with us our love and appreciation while remembering those who are gone but remain in our memory.
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
