HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY...A LOT OF LOVE FROM A SMALL PACKAGE.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY !  Whether you are the celebrator or the celebratee...or both, today is the day to honor the special women who should be honored everyday of the year.

My earliest memory of this holiday has to with the first Mother's Day gift I bestowed upon my mom.  In third grade, there was a flower sale in the school library. I scraped together a nickel and five pennies and got a tiny plant, in a three-inch square, white pot.

My mom made me feel good even though my dot-sized present was displayed on the kitchen counter, side-by-side with the mammoth fern my sister got. Mom glamorized my wee green sprout and told me that this kind of plant (ivy) will grow bigger than I could imagine and with her tender loving care, it would last a long time.

Mom was a feminine, old-fashion girl.  Her instincts towards motherhood extended into a glorious gardening touch.  In my childhood, this talent produced a beautiful backyard of roses. 

(CIRCA 1953)  BEFORE MOVING "ON UP" TO CANARSIE, PRIOR TO MY BIRTH, MOM DEVELOPED HER GREEN THUMB AT THEIR BROWNSVILLE APARTMENT HOUSE.  HERE WE SEE HER CULTIVATING THE RARE, "PITKIN ORCHID."

While Brooklyn might be associated with concrete and asphalt, a passerby to our house in Canarsie could easily see the artistic, colorful arrangement blooming in the flower beds that lined the alley along side our house. Mom also adorned the walkway to our front door with pretty azaleas and pom-poms as well as keeping up a window box laden with petunias.

Mom's tendency to stay a housewife set the woman's rights movement back twenty years.  She was highly intelligent but because of the economics caused by the Great Depression and the social labeling of the time, it seemed natural to not pursue a college education.  So in the early stages of marriage, she was usually seen barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen.

1946 CONEY ISLAND.  CYNDI LAUPER GOT HER IDEA FOR "GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN," FROM MY MOM.

Mom wasn't athletic either.  She never had any interest in learning how to drive and almost never went on any amusement park rides.  It's too bad she smoked because that women's rights "privilege" would severely damage the quality of her later life.

In 1967, during a family vacation down south, mom filled some of the dull driving time by telling me the developments in the life of my four-year old Mother's Day plant.  Maybe she was just killing time with idle chatter or this was a clever device to talk about the birds and the bees, because she flattered me by saying that a cutting from my humble gift was now dominating the wall in my grandfather's apartment, (I'm guessing I didn't pick-up on the reproductive point she was making because when my sister realized she was talking about sex, she started laughing.  Then mom told dad to make sure he spoke to me privately).

Some of the highlights on that vacation were, Smoky National Park, Gatlinsburg Tennessee, Maggie Valley Frontier Town in North Carolina, Natural Bridge Virginia and Atlantic City.

AT A WEAK MOMENT IN SMOKY NATIONAL PARK, MOM ENCOURAGED ME TO TAUNT THIS CUB IN FRONT OF ITS MOTHER.  I TRIED TO RAT HER OUT BY CALLING CHILDREN'S SERVICES ON MY IMAGINARY CELL PHONE BUT I WASN'T GETTING ANY BARS. 

Mom stayed clear of those bears but that same night, she orchestrated our attendance at a local sock-hop in Gatlinsburg.  She and dad encouraged me to ask a girl (Serita from Georgia), to dance.  It's too bad dad didn't explain the birds and the bees that day but I still had a great time with her.  We even remained pen pals for several years, (if it's not too creepy, maybe I'll see if she's on FACEBOOK)?

NEAR GATLINSBURG, AT THE CHEROKEE INDIAN RESERVATION, MOM HAD ME POSE ON THIS PLASTIC STALLION.

My parents weakness for tobacco included us touring a couple of cigarette factories in Winston-Salem and Raleigh...yuck!  On the way back north, navigator mom noticed a "must see" landmark in our AAA TRIP-TIK, so we detoured to Natural Bridge Virginia.

HEY DAD, THERE'S A SPOT ON YOUR SHIRT! NOT FAR FROM THE WORLD'S BIGGEST MAYONNAISE JAR,  IN THE HEART OF THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAIN REGION, NATURAL BRIDGE OR AS THE LOCALS IN ROCKBRIDGE COUNTY CALL IT, "NATTY B," WAS A COOL WAY TO KILL TWENTY MINUTES.

Our last stop was Atlantic City.  A couple of towns west on the Black Horse Pike, mom and dad took us to one of their favorite restaurants, Zaberer's.

MOM WASN'T KEEN ON SWIMMING EITHER.  I HOPE SHE DIDN'T CHIP A NAIL TAKING DAD'S PICTURE AT THE SEA-BREEZE MOTEL, IN WEST ATLANTIC CITY.  ODDLY, THIS MOTEL IS STILL THERE, (LESS THE POOL), EXCEPT THEY NOW CATER TO WELFARE RECIPIENTS AND CRACK WHORES.

One morning before breakfast, we got on the boardwalk at 7:AM.  We rented bicycles with the idea of riding for an hour.  Even mom participated but because she couldn't ride a bike, she was given an adult tricycle.  In the minute she rode, (twenty feet tops) dad managed to get one terrible photo of her looking away in embarrassment, (some how, after my father passed away, that unflattering picture vanished)?  Mom then abandoned her wheels and let us be on our way while she waited.  We saw the floats getting ready for the Miss America parade, the JFK bust and Steel Pier before reconnecting with her.

Whether you called her mom, Aunt Suzala, gramma, great-gramma, Suzie or Mrs. E., my mother always remained trendy.

LIKE MY LITTLE IVY PLANT, MOM GREW WITH THE TIMES.  IN THE PSYCHEDELIC 60's AND INTO THE DISCO 70's, SHE WAS ALWAYS AN A-LISTER.

My mother had a great sense of humor.  Unlike my dad who tried so hard to be funny but wasn't, mom, if you took the time to listen to her, was hysterical without trying.

ONE OF MY FAVORITE PICTURES.  EARLY 70's ON A BOAT RIDE NEAR RIMOUSKI, QUEBEC, CANADA

Mom loved to travel.  She could remember the smallest details of each trip.

OUR BEST FAMILY TRIP WAS OUR TWENTY-TWO DAY EUROPEAN EXTRAVAGANZA, (AUGUST 1968).  MOM'S MEMORY WAS SO GREAT THAT SHE REMEMBERED STANDING SLIGHTLY TO THE RIGHT OF CENTER, NEXT TO A FELLOW WHO MADE IT A POINT TO HIT A BORDELLO, (TO VISIT ALL HIS SISTERS)  IN ALL SEVEN COUNTRIES WE WENT TO.

Mom continued traveling after my dad died.  She even earned the distinction of being the first Edelblum to set foot in Africa when she chaperoned my niece's class trip to Morocco, (no there are NO embarrassing pictures of her on a camel...maybe if they came with training wheels...too bad for us, I blame my niece).

THE BULK OF MY HUMOR I GOT FROM MOM.  IN THE MID 70's, AS I GREW TALLER THAN HER, (AS YOU CAN TELL FROM THAT CLOWN SHIRT), MY AUDACIOUSNESS DID TOO, (TOO BAD I WASN'T WEARING THE SQUIRTING FLOWER ACCESSORY). 



By the time I was twenty, my little ivy clipping, despite being trimmed regularly had crept halfway up the kitchen cabinet.

MY SISTER ORGANIZED A 25th ANNIVERSARY TRIP (1975) TO HAWAII FOR MY FOLKS.  HERE, UNDER THE ALIAS "LELANI" MY EVER-PHOTOGENIC MOM POSES IN PARADISE.

Maybe if my plant was never cropped, it could have climbed as high as the World Trade Center.

IN THE EARLY 80's, MY MOM (left) AND HER SISTER ATOP ONE OF THE TWIN TOWERS.

In 1998, together with my mom, we took my son Andrew to the Philadelphia Zoo.  It was a long walk from the parking lot to the entrance and within minutes inside, mom declared that she would sit out the rest of the trip.  Although she had side-stepped other health problems up to that point, that moment has stayed with me as the beginning of her major physical problems.

FIVE YEARS LATER  (2003),  AT THE MARGATE STREET FAIR.  EVEN WHEN THE RIGORS OF AGE AND THE PAIN ASSOCIATED WITH FORTY YEARS OF SMOKING THAT DETERIORATED HER HEALTH, MOM REMAINED A PLEASURE TO BE AROUND ESPECIALLY FOR HER SEEDLING-LIKE GRAND CHILDREN AND GREAT-GRAND CHILDREN.

Mom's golden years were spent connected to an oxygen tank.  Emphysema and many emergency trips to the hospital made her last five years, painfully terrible.  Part of my job when she was away from the house for prolonged periods was to water her plants. As sick as she was, mom always asked how they were.

I discovered that there is more to horticulture than just watering.  Soon under my care, all mom's plants seemed to suffer.  Maybe her trick was to move them around to maximize the sun light or maybe she snuck in some Miracle-Gro or maybe she spoke to them.  Either way, I know she loved them.  And from that idea, the one thing I know for certain is that between her tender loving care, proper feeding and knowing the right thing to say, she always made me feel good...and loved.

When the end came, my mother's inner strength helped her remain dignified, brave and lady-like.  Who would ever have guessed that my ten-cent gift would still be going strong forty-seven years later, grow as tall as her six-foot-five grandson and out live her.

I know my mom would never own a computer so I hope one of her or dad's cronies in heaven has a lap-top so that she can read this column. 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL !

IF IT'S TUESDAY, THE EDELBLUMS MUST BE IN BELGIUM.

Whenever I celebrate my mother's rich life, I like to focus on 1968. In that time-frame, she envisioned the number one highlight of my childhood and pulled it off with deft precision.

What she did for me was choreograph an atypical, two-pronged Bar Mitzvah experience.

                MY BAR MITZVAH PARTY. THAT'S ME, CARNATION IN LAPEL, ( June 9, 1968).

At a great personal sacrifice, over a year in advance, mom took on a full-time job to help finance my golden moment.

Living on a strict regimen of cottage cheese, black coffee and not much else, mom dedicated herself to dieting. To support her effort, I sometimes held her ankles when she did sit-ups. Even though mom didn't need much...she trimmed down. When my command performance came, she looked dynamite.

          MOM AND DAD WITH HIS PARENTS, TWO MONTHS BEFORE MY BIG DAY.

The religious Bar Mitzvah ritual (entering a Jewish boy into adulthood), and ensuing festivities, succeeded in making me feel special. But mom's dedication to this crowning achievement didn't only benefit me. Within a sea of general positivism, 1968 became the best and most identifiable era for us as a family. Because my mother's master plan went further than just my lavish party.

Remember the 1969 movie, "IF IT'S TUESDAY, IT MUST BE BELGIUM?" Well it may as well have been written about us. The second prong of mom's brainchild was a 22-day, seven country European vacation.

Our jaunt NEVER landed us in Belgium. However, we enjoyed similar frantic and funny episodes, full of dramatic clashing personalities, international intrigue and sex...which resulted in a lifetime of fond memories.

While I'm certain we would have adored Brussels, we had to settle for; London England, Paris France, Vienna Austria, Rome, the Vatican, Naples, Pompeii and Capri in Italy. Then back to Cannes on the French Riviera, Geneva Switzerland, Madrid Spain and Lisbon Portugal.

MY FOLKS TOOK FULL ADVANTAGE OF PARIS' ROMANTIC NIGHT LIFE. THEY WENT TO A NIGHT CLUB WITH OTHER COUPLES FROM OUR GROUP. ONE OF THE ACTS THEY SAW WAS A YOUNG, SIEGFRIED AND ROY.

Along with 30 or so other tourists, our package-deal was dominated by organized motor coach transport to each city's most popular venues. However, there were also down-times. Sometimes we ventured off with smaller groups and on a few occasions, we went off on our own.

My 42-year old European memories are fresh. The list of museums, monuments, palaces, castles, cathedrals and other meccas of sightseeing are lengthy. But the true theme of the trip that I hold most dear was brought to light by a family excursion to Vienna's Stadtpark, (City Park).

TO GIVE MY PARENTS MORE "ALONE TIME," (THEY SAID THEY WERE "PACKING" ), MY SISTER AND I, TOOK A TAXI ON OUR OWN TO THE EIFFEL TOWER. CRAZY BY TODAY'S STANDARDS, SHE WAS 15 AND I WAS 13.

In Vienna. dad, (a musician), found out from the hotel concierge that the nearby equivalent of New York's Central Park was featuring a waltz concert. When we got to Stadtpark, we found a band-shell, complete with dance floor adjacent to an outdoor cafe. My sister and I rolled our eyes at first because the music was so corny. But the amazing pastries and cocoa soothed us enough to eliminate outward complaining.

This event perked-up when local teenagers in vintage Austrian peasant costumes demonstrated different waltz-steps. The show's final crescendo had the dancers mingle with the audience and encourage folks to waltz with them. My dad would have none of that. He stood-up and was so gallant as he asked my mother to dance to Strauss' "THE BLUE DANUBE." With a stupid grin on my face, my eyes remained glued on every romantic, elegant and joyful move mom and dad made.

        STATUE OF THE WALTZ KING, JOHANN STRAUSS IN VIENNA'S STADTPARK.

At thirteen, the concept of my parents being very much in love was preposterous. So getting educated at that moment by seeing the spontaneity of the lovers, together, so enthusiastic, eyes locked on each other, unrestrained by day-to-day pressure, kids or anything else...has left the most pleasant and profoundly lasting impression on me. So much so that during my son Andrew's Bar Mitzvah, I made certain that the "BLUE DANUBE'S" big finale was used to usher my mom up, during the candle lighting ceremony.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KE7Zk-qaJAs
CLICK ON THIS LINK FOR A 6+ MINUTE PERFORMANCE OF, "THE BLUE DANUBE," BY ANDRE RIEU'S JOHANN STRAUSS ORCHESTRA.

My wonderful mom passed away, three days ago, on New Year's Day. The last five of her 79 years were spent painfully as she suffered through a prolonged, losing battle with both emphysema and cancer. During those difficult times, her sense of honesty, fair play and dignity never wavered. Without bitterness towards tobacco companies, she maintained her strong-willed presence, remained both real and gracious and never stopped using her wry humor.

I didn't always agree with mom but my appreciation for her motives...specifically; love, family values, common decency, intelligence and the arts, are beyond reproach. I can only hope that I absorbed a fraction of those treasured traits. Therefore, the greatest compliment I can be given is being told; you remind me of your mother.

IT DIDN'T MATTER IF IT WAS THE VATICAN'S SISTINE CHAPEL, THE MONA LISA AT THE LOUVRE, GOYA MASTERPIECES IN THE PRADO OR A JUNKYARD DINOSAUR SCULPTURE IN FRONT ROYAL VIRGINIA...MY MOM INTRODUCED MY SISTER AND I, TO A WIDE RANGE OF CULTURE AND ALLOWED OUR OWN TASTE TO DICTATE WHAT WAS GOOD.

In the end, I believe if mom could have gotten one message across it would have been; the human body is beautiful. Let your inside beauty match the outside...don't be mislead by the seemingly cool allure of smoking...never light-up...the end result leads to personal tragedy and much sorrow for those who love you.