TRUE BUBBEH MEISES: AN OXYMORON

My mother-in-law, she should rest in peace, wins the “fantastic grandmother” award for all time.  Her devotion to my sons gave new meaning to the word wunderlech.  If you’re waiting for the “but,” here it is:  As a mother-in-law . . . well, she tried her very best.   I followed her advice when it seemed sensible, even if it was unsolicited (and it was never solicited); the rest of the time I had to remind myself that there are solid reasons for all those mother-in-law jokes.  Had my own mother been alive, she’d probably have been the same way.

I found this in my journal from years ago.  Pretend it’s 1996.

Jay’s mother has a tsura with me.  Mostly she’s my biggest fan, but right now the problem is that she doesn't think I worry enough. The older she gets, the more she worries.

ESTHER:  Jay is skiing all day, and you don’t worry that he'll run into a tree and kill himself?
MOLLIE:  No, you raised Jay to be careful.
ESTHER:  But look what happened to Sonny Bono!  And only a week after Bobby Kennedy’s son!
MOLLIE:  If their mothers had worried about them, would it have helped?  Jay will be fine.
ESTHER:  I'm worried sick.
MOLLIE:  Look, if you really want to worry, how about Jay shlepping 25 minutes each way to work, five days a week, on the worst 18-mile stretch of highway in the state?  And your other son drives on the L.A. freeways every day.  Now stop worrying and let’s talk about something else.

Usually the “something else” happens between 5:00 and 5:30.  She’ll call me and say that she heard on the radio that there’s a wreck on the highway, and do I think Jay’s okay?

MOLLIE:  We’ll hear soon enough if anything's wrong.  Now starting tomorrow, turn off your radio at 4:00 p.m., and you’ll worry less.
ESTHER:  Well, I'm a mother, dear, and mothers worry.
MOLLIE:  (in my dreams):  Oh, so what am I, chopped liver?
MOLLIE   (in real life):  You can be a mother and not worry at the same time.  It's really easy if you try.
ESTHER:  Humph.  Well, I never!  (A phrase from that generation; don’t try to parse it.)

My mother’s housekeeper (1946 – 1956) always said, "Well, I swan!"  You don't hear THAT one very much anymore, either!  What you DO hear is . . . much, much worse.