Older daughter Jennifer and I flew back to Orlando on the 12:15pm non-stop from Islip. The flight was a breeze. I got home in plenty of time to enjoy a late afternoon swim. <\/p>\n
Scroll down a bit for info on next weekend’s Gatorland offerings and scroll down further for DeSoto IPT late registration discount info. <\/p>\n
Thanks to the many who shared their thoughts on the memorial blog post that I wrote about my Mom (and my Dad as well) both by leaving a comment and via e-mail. To receive so many kind, thoughtful messages, each one containing and outpouring of love, was both wonderful and appreciated. Many of the comments were quite insightful. I think that I wrote this recently somewhere but cannot recall the details, but at worst, it is worth repeating. Someone wrote that in addition to my Dad being part of the “Greatest Generation,” that my Mom and the tens of thousands of other wives and mothers were part of the “Greatest Generation” as well. Though it is obviously true for sure I had never realized it before. These unsung women heroes held the families together during and after the war and nurtured and loved and cared for their (often wounded) husbands after the war. And those wounds often included mental wounds as well as physical ones. And let’s not forget about the Rosie the Riveters as well, the women who worked in factories producing a great variety of the stuff that was needed for our war effort. <\/p>\n
Both in the memorial blog post and in the (shared) eulogy that I presented at my Mom’s memorial service on Sunday, I omitted a few things, several with regards to the fact that Hazel Morris spent most of her life taking care of others. First, she volunteered as a fund raiser for years for Great Oaks Village, a group home for developmentally challenged young adults in San Diego. Her talents as a baker and a seamstress helped raise a whole lot of money for that group. She was a member of the San Diego Woman’s Club for several decades. When she moved back to New York in 2006 or 2007, they honored her service there with an honorary lifetime membership. She held a variety of offices (most notably Treasurer) for that group for years and on the certificate, they noted that Hazel often held this or that position for more years than their constitution allowed because nobody else would take the position. That’s my Mom. <\/p>\n
I did note during the eulogy that my Mom took on quite a chore while raising us three kids. Heck, when I was two, I pushed my infant sister Ilene off the kitchen table. When I was about seven I hit her in the head with a hammer, and she stabbed me in the head with a pair of scissors. (None of the wounds were serious). After that, things got worse and we stopped getting along so well. But that only lasted another seven decades. I happily reconciled with Ilene last week in the presence of my Mom. (Credit The School for the Work for that …)<\/p>\n
But when it came to taking care of my sister Arna, my Mom (and until his death, my Dad) deserved Nobel Prizes for parenting. When the family left Brooklyn for San Diego in 1969 Arna was not a happy camper. She rebelled in a fashion typical of the time, sex, drugs, rock and roll, and wine (without much emphasis on the rock and roll). She married three guys in a row named Richard. Each turned out to be a disaster. Many times she came back to my folks with piles of auto repair and hospital bills and each time they welcomed her back with open arms. After Richard the Third they added a room to the house for Arna and she straightened her life out a bit. At most, Arna worked a few days a week. When my Dad died in 2001 Arna stayed with Mom and took care of her a bit while Mom cared for and supported Arna. <\/p>\n
When my Mom returned to New York to be near my older sister Ilene, Arna came with her. For the last ten years of her life, Arna took care of Mom while Mom took care of and supported Arna. Please do not think that I am judging Arna here. I know that she has always done her best. She is a sweet soul. She flew to Florida in November 1994 to “help Elaine die.” It was as if an angel had come to me to help me though the most difficult days of my life. <\/p>\n
Make no mistake about it, I love Arna Lee and I love my Mom and I love my Dad. And my sister Ilene too. <\/p>\n
I almost forgot to mention this: my Mom battled anxiety pretty much for the whole or her adult life, right up to the very end. For me, that makes her accomplishments that much the greater …<\/p>\n
After this is published, I will add the text above to the original blog post for the record. <\/p>\n