If
you think of Mel Brooks and his routines about “Jewish Mothers”, you'll get the
picture in a heartbeat. Mistresses of the guilt trip, JMs are capable of
putting sons (especially) and daughters into mental dungeons for supposedly
failing to appreciate a Mother's Love. Several Jewish mothers are among my
intimate friends. But they are far afield from the portrait that Brooks paints
of their concern about every single thing that touches the lives of their
offspring. Along with large dollops of “don't worry about me, your mother, it's
YOU that I cry over.”
Skipping
from Ireland to Israel is not an easy trip but I did it recently while worrying
about our brand new great-granddaughter, Huntley, who caught a cold. She is a
Manhattanite, albeit a very young version of that species, and as yet unaware
of Bloomingdale's, Grand Central and Central Park. Huntley caught a cold
somewhere, we suspect from her wonderful working mother who insisted on
balancing business and imminent delivery right up to the moment when contractions kicked in. (The courage of young
women who manage such feats is surely the topic for another column, but for the
moment Baby Huntley is the focus.)
Many
a parent or grandparent takes comfort in the “out of sight, out of mind”
philosophy – as in what you don't see or know allows you to stay in a sea of
serenity. Not so for me in Florida. I
worry about every one of these 1358 miles between our house and Huntley's crib.
My Wasp wife, no Shamrock she, as well as the Jewish (and all other) mothers in
our gang, take a pragmatic view of situations generally. And specifically in
the case of my attempts to micro-manage health concerns when her mother and grandmother
are right there in the NYC scene watching Huntley like the two Mother Hens they
are. Ah, well. Such is life.
I
also wondered if Mel Brooks has a routine centered on the plight of males who
are parents, grandparents, great-grandparents whose sole role in the miracle of
birth seems to be limited to one-liners during Happy Hour.
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