MY MOM... CLAIRE MAMARY... came and went ON TIME
October 28, 1927 - October 27 2009
My mom Claire, would have been 90 years old today, left us 8 years ago, and is deeply missed
MY MOM…CLAIRE MAMARY….came and went ON TIME. If the invitation said 1:30…she’d be there precisely 1:30. Or earlier. Even open-ended events like backyard BBQ’s, to her, 1:30 meant 1:30. This often put her at odds with my brother Nick, whose idea of 1:30 usually meant somewhere around 2:45.
Chances were, when we’d get to Nick’s for the aforementioned BBQ, he and his wife would still be still be navigating the aisles at Costco’s, piling their cart with salmon, ribs, lamb chops, hot dogs, portabellos and mini peppers for the grill; a bin of mesclun, bags of chips, olives, cheese, hummus, and some sort of pie or cake “in case”. At least WE were on time.
No matter what the event, mom would skip breakfast in anticipation of “all the goodies” she planned to indulge in. She’d be first in line at any buffet, which meant she’d be ready for coffee while others were just beginning to tackle their entrées. This often proved embarrassing at restaurants, where, as soon as mom put down her fork, she’d wave her arms while calling “Waiter! WAITER!” or “Miss! MISS! Can I get some coffee?” God forbid it took too long to get their attention.
Mom loved lobster, chocolate and nuts. Mostly, she ate very simply. Food and weight issues were of great continuous concern in our family. Mom’s meals consisted of reasonable portions of healthy food, prepared with minimal fat and salt. Her portion control was on point. One pork chop (never double cut) and one plain baked sweet potato (no butter) for each of us with braised cabbage and homemade applesauce.
Despite her perpetual disapproval of our weight, leftovers were entirely unacceptable."C’mon, finish this!" she’d command, scraping the tablespoon or so of whatever was left in the bowl; doling it out onto our plates; loathe to save or throw it away. We knew something was terribly wrong when mom stopped eating. Let’s face it, our lives always revolved around when and what are we going to eat? and what’s for dessert?
Mom hated excess and would huff and puff and mutter under her breath at any event where she thought there was too much food. As the fruit baskets, trays of wraps, crudités, cold cuts, lasagnas, pastries, cookies, and breads kept coming and coming and coming into her home the day of her wake I could hear her loud and clear and quite agitated: “Oh for god’s sake! Too much! TOO MUCH!” That day? I had to agree. Her tiny kitchen overwhelmed, I stuffed anything that couldn’t fit on the buffet on the floor, under the table, in the bedrooms, on the porch.
My mom was unconditionally supportive. No matter what I was doing, what projects I undertook, she would always ask, “What can I do? How can I help?” When I was owner and operator of Novella Café at the Brooklyn Public Library, mom came every morning to make sandwiches, start the coffee, and serve the early birds their buttered bagels, blueberry muffins and cheese danish.
My friends loved my mom. She was the life of every one of my gatherings. Funny, opinionated, savvy and engaging, she was the first to start the liveliest conversations, mostly about politics and women’s issues. She loved “discussing” everything. She was dedicated to opening minds and rebelled against those choosing to remain small and closed. Over the years so many of my cousins told me about a book or art supplies my mom had given them as a gift and how that gift inspired them and even changed their lives.
She particularly enjoyed trying to engage my rightie brother Nick in reasonable political discourse. Depending on how much wine had been consumed, this could easily trigger another one of his Hatin-Hillary rants. In the car on the way to those BBQ’s, my leftie bro Richard and I would BEG mom to resist the temptation to bring up politics. She tried, but eventually mischievous Claire would emerge, and all hell would break loose.
In these harrowing times, there is one thing I know for sure. Mom would be HORRIFIED witnessing the current slow-motion crashing train ride we are all on. As each day slams us with yet another relentless round of mind-boggling atrocities, I can hear the phone ringing in my head, and SO clearly, mom’s voice… “Can you BELIEVE it?” (this? him? them?) She would have been BESIDE herself with outrage, disgust and sorrow.
Ralph Nader was her guy. She voted for him every time he ran for office. Much to her disappointment, he never garnered enough votes to make the difference she hoped for. Her progressive political and social beliefs made her a loner amongst all the conservatives in Bay Ridge where she lived her entire life. She didn’t mind, up to the bitter end, she kept busy picking up the latest choice for her beloved book club at the local library (why bother to buy the book when you can read it for free?) and shopping for and cooking her simple suppers.
The ultimate artist, mom loved philosophy, literature, music, theater, opera, ballet. Her TV was permanently tuned to PBS. She cloistered herself in her studio and painted abstract canvases for hours every day. She was famous for the colorful scarves she wore adding flair and pizzazz to her well worn basic attire. An agnostic, mom never presumed she knew the absolute “truth” about anything, especially God and religion, (except, of course, when it came to politics... Republicans were WRONG and that was that.)
I remember in the last hours of her last days here on earth a few of her visitors whispering in her ear, telling her not to be afraid, not to worry, because “Soon you’ll be with Jesus!” I knew what she was thinking… “Really? What about Buddha? or Gandhi? Won’t they be there?” As they also whispered reassurances that my dad would be there waiting, I imagined her laughing… “Really? 53 years I endured his snoring? and THAT’s what I get in my eternal afterlife?”
Like my non-church-going dad, mom was MUCH more Christian then all of those who outwardly proclaim to be. She lived simply and without pretension. She was kind and never lived in judgment of anyone. (Well, I suppose, except for those Republicans)
Mom was the glue that held our family together. She was the main attraction at all my gatherings. Without her, everything drifted apart. I am now an island adrift in an ocean of troubled water.
Mom. You are greatly missed. I love you. Always.
