A real Yiddishe Mama

TOBY J. ROSENSTRAUCH

She is much maligned by comedians and cartoonists as well as serious writers: the Jewish Mother. As a result, every Jewish girl is certain that when she becomes a mother, she will do and say things differently from her mother. Thus, it often comes as a surprise to find herself using the very words her mother spoke.

When I became a Jewish mother, it was quite a shock to hear myself using the same words my mother used, sometimes even in Yiddish. Although I had more formal education than my mother, when it came to ways of looking at life, she and I were much alike. Mother’s little sayings tumbled out when I least expected them – bits of advice and wisdom that guided my life.

My mother always had that special love that said, “Ich zahl anor gehaht vos deir gefehlt” (“I should only have what you are lacking”), a mother’s wish to always have the right ingredient to satisfy her child’s needs. Too often, that was financially impossible.

If I broke a dish, she’d say, “Zahl zein a capporeh,” referring to the old Yom Kippur custom of kapporot, when a chicken was slaughtered to symbolically give its life instead of that of a person. It was important to remember that the most important thing is life. Crockery and other material possessions could be replaced. People could not.

When we ate, she said, “Ess gezundt” (“Eat in good health”). When we went to bed, it was “Shluff gezundt” (“Sleep in good health”). This was her main concern – the health of her family. As a child, I did not understand when she said, “If you don’t have your health, you have nothing.” I understand it now.

Whenever I refused to eat something, Mother said there were starving children in Europe who would be glad to have my food, a reminder that there were those less fortunate.

In those days, ecology was not of common concern. Nevertheless, as the only daughter in a large family well schooled in talmudic teachings, she reminded us often not to waste anything. I doubt she could have told us exactly where in the Torah this idea could be found, but she knew the words “bal tashchit” (“not wasting resources”) were there somewhere.

For my increasingly busy life, she offered rules that stressed efficient ways of living: “Buy it when you see it – you’ll have it when you need it.” As a young corporate wife, this saved me from frantic shopping trips to find outfits for all the last-minute social events that my husband’s position required us to attend.

“First things first.” On crazy, stressful days this helped to determine priorities and make coping possible.

Then there was a funny one: “Mit ein tochas ken men nit tantzen af tzvei chasanehs” (“With one behind, you can’t dance at two weddings”). This had nothing to do with weddings at all. She was simply trying to say, in her picturesque way, that I can’t be in two places at once, so I must make choices.

There were also rules for human relationships: “If you can’t say something nice, keep your mouth shut,” which works so much better than the current trend toward frankness at all costs.

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am for myself alone, what am I?” She knew Hillel’s famous lesson in selflessness and self-respect.

“Honor thy father and mother.” This she taught by word and by the example she set with her own behavior towards my grandparents.

Of crucial importance to Mother was “Do the right thing.” She taught me that we all know what the right thing is. “Kol d’mama,” the still small voice is there inside each of us telling us what we should do. Doing the right thing all the time is tough, but she maintained that the guide to action is there to be called upon.

Now that I am both a mother and grandmother, I remember her sayings about childrearing: “Raise up a child in the way that he should go and he will not depart from it when he is old.” She would often tell me this during my children’s rebellious adolescent years when I’d wonder if anything I taught them was making an impression. Now that they are grown, I can see all the good things coming to the surface. They really did take root after all.

There were times when Mother got angry with us and said, “You should only have children like yourself.” I say it to my children often now that they are adults. I mean it as a blessing, because I am thankful they all turned out so well. Could it be they benefited from the wisdom of a Jewish mother?

Toby J. Rosenstrauch is an award-winning columnist and a resident of Florida. Her first novel, Knifepoint, was recently published.

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