Mom

I think about my mom constantly...

She was a special woman and a devoted mother. And what's great about having my own journal is that I could write what I want. So every year on this day, which is the anniversary of her passing, I pay her a tribute. She died from cancer on October 5, 1967.

My mom, Pearl Berkowitz, was a homemaker who worked hard to keep our small three-room apartment clean, cozy, and neat.

Even though I was only fourteen at the time of her death, I still recall many things about her. It's been thirty-eight years since she's been gone.

​Anyhow, in the kitchen, directly above our simple dining table, fasted to the wall, was a porcelain plaque which had these words: "God Bless This Happy Home." It had little floral designs on it, too.

This flower-shaped plaque, I believe, best expressed what was in my mother's heart. She longed for a happy home. And in addition to caring for my dad and me, my mom busied herself with her plants and her parakeet, knitting quilts and afghans which were made from an array of colored yarns, shopping, baking and cooking, and keeping the home kosher. She was very religious when it came to the Jewish traditions, such as lighting candles on the Sabbath, which began every Friday at sundown.

My mom also loved to read, and like many women, she liked to talk on the phone. I have my regrets, of course. I was not a good son. But she hoped for a home with happiness, and we did have many good times together.

D.B.