By Bob Litton
I thought I would write another memoir about Mother—one concentrated more on the positive things about her as a person and her struggles. However, I just now re-read my May 11, 2014, post about her and saw that, while I had indeed written perhaps too much about the emotional distance that developed between us, I had also related some of the good moments we shared. No need to repeat those.
I will mention one part of our history together that I neglected in that earlier post.
I attended a small, privately-run kindergarten with thirteen other children. One day I was surprised on being informed by our teacher that a cab was waiting outside for me. I had never ridden in a cab before, much less alone. The cab driver took me downtown where Mother was waiting at her workplace, a dress factory called Lorch’s; she was a silk-finisher there. (Mother made all my shirts while I was in elementary school.) Lorch’s was a couple of blocks from the original Sanger Brothers department store, where, each Christmas season, the delightful mechanical elves hammered away at toys in the display window.
Mother’s workday had concluded by the time I arrived. We walked from there to a hole-in-the-wall book-and-magazine store a short distance away, one of my favorite places of all time. After I had selected a couple of used comic books and Mother had picked out a book for herself to read, we continued on to a nearby cafeteria for supper. Then we went to a movie theater on “theater row”.
After we got out of the movie house, it was getting dark. We boarded a street car headed for our neighborhood, and that’s when the biggest treat of the day happened: I could view all the colorful marquee, business, and street lights; and, closer to home, smell the aroma of bread baking at the Mrs. Baird’s factory. After that experience I had a hard time going to sleep without a streetcar ride downtown to see the lights. I think I made a nuisance of myself because of that addiction.
I regret that every time I write about Mother—as in the anecdote above—her image and character seem too pale, as though she had the supporting role in a play, not the central role; but I guess that is inevitable since I am writing essentially about my own memory.
That’s all I want to add as text to last year’s essay, but I will include some photos of Mother that I did not publish before. Interested readers can find the other two writings about Mother by clicking on the titles at the bottom of this blog post page.
Rest in peace, Mama!!!