My Mother must have been a beauty in her young days because my Father was a great judge of people, especially women. Children, however, don't see a Mother as a woman, homely or beautiful. They just accept her as a mother, her affection, kindness and obligation to them.

I first noticed her big blue eyes and sparkling white teeth when she dressed on a holiday to go to the synagogue. Her bonnet laid lightly on her nut-brown curly hair and her elegant clothes had probably been made for her trousseau. I must have been about seven years old when my Sister and I went to visit-her in the synagogue on the High Holidays. We found her absorbed in the prayer book, reading for the women surrounding her. We admired her emphatic and emotional style, although she had no conception of what the words meant as she had never learned the Hebrew language. They left her sensitive mouth with so much feeling that the women who listened were moved to tears.

On Saturday she did the reading of the Bible at home- but in a sedate voice, and mostly to herself. We children knew the prayer, practically by heart, but we could never imitate our Mother's tone of voice, no matter how hard we tried.

There were things about my Mother which are recorded in our memories: her generosity, her sincerity, her honesty and integrity. I would be most happy to believe that we children inherited these traits to some extent.

Mother had a grocery store. Most of her customers were poor and many times they sent their children on a Friday before sundown to get a challah or a couple of candles to be blessed. My Mother never hesitated to grant these favors, whether paid for or not. "I can't refuse such necessities", she would say.

Our apartment was in the rear of the store, and our parent's bedroom had no window and was very damp. Mama was suddenly stricken with asthma and migraine headaches, and was finally forced to give up her way of life. At last we began to live a more normal, although a poor existence.

It was after the Russian and Japanese War when my Father's business was reduced to a low level and my Sister was working at dressmaking for a paltry sum. I was, of course, helping in the house. In due course, my Sister left for America, and within seven months I followed. We came to live with relatives in Boston. Working hard, we saved enough money in three and a half years to send for our family. It was a great challenge for my mother, but she was brave and determined to undertake the long journey to "the golden land".

And now, here they were, father, mother, and three younger brothers, all eagerly looking forward to their release from Ellis Island. Finally I saw my Father and older Brother helping my Mother come off the ramp. She was so shriveled that my Sister and I appeared to be giants beside her. In silence, but with great emotion, we joined each other.

An apartment had already been prepared and furnished in the West End of Boston. Realizing her condition, we sent them all to Arlington Heights for the rest of the summer and my Sister and I spent weekends with them.

Mama was very happy in this country and she loved our way of life. Our friends became her companions as well. But our togetherness was short-lived. Within thirteen months of the happiest period of her life she was stricken with pneumonia and passed away on 25th of August 1911.

We had to face the tragic situation realistically. Everyone had to pitch in to help keep the family together, and we all did.