We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards
could produce the complete works of Shakespeare;
now, thanks to the Internet, we know that is not true.
Robert Wilensky
The Kvetch of the Goddess
Come, kinderlech, come, nosh a bissel, sit and listen to your Mama, She Who Knows Best--what do you mean, why do I know best? Because I'm you're mother, that's why! Now sit and listen, after all the aggravation I've had with you! Oy! But you're a good kid, so I don't mind all the tsoris. Of course, it would help if you were going to school for a real degree ...
Oy, what was I going to say? You made me lose track. Oh yes...Sit and listen to your Mama, who has been known by many names, oy, so many names, if I sat here and listed them all, we'd be here all day, so I won't bother you; after all, why should a mother ever bother her children?
Now, whenever you have need of anything, and of course even if you don't need anything, you can always call me. It's not that hard to pick up a telephone, is it? But you do, so I don't complain. But at least once a month, is that so much to ask? And do it at the full moon, that's best; that way there's light, and you won't kill yourself wandering out in those woods, God forbid. So get together, have a cup of tea and some cookies, so you won't be hungry, first, and then meet in some place people won't see you and the mishegoss you do, and realize you really are meshuggeneh, and adore the spirit of Me, She Who Really Does Know Best. I will not have my children be slaves--you will be free, whether you want to or not, because if you really loved me, you would do it--and as a sign of this--what, you really think I would tell you to get undressed? Fine Mother I would be, to tell you, go get pneumonia in the woods! Stupid idea, to be freezing cold in the middle of nowhere, without a stitch of clothing on! And I didn't raise my children to be idiots! No, what you should do is, get out the charge cards, that's what they're there for, and get some clothes you won't be ashamed of, something that's newer than the yard sale from two years ago. You're a bigshot, you can afford it--and of course if you see something that might fit me, it wouldn't hurt to get it, I can always return it if I don't like it. And while I'm thinking of it, you really need a new haircut. I don't mean to criticize, but how many decades have you been wearing that style? Is it two or three?
Now where was I? Oh yes, you're meeting in some verkuckte God forsaken place no one has heard and you have to spend an hour trying to find the right street to turn onto, and when you get there you still aren't sure if this is the right place because everyone else is even more verblondjet than you are, and won't show up for another hour anyway. But you get there, you're patient, you learned it from me, I admit, and when you are all together you have a nosh, you sing, you have a nosh, you dance--not these strange newfangled dances with that trashy music, but good music, like we had when I was your age--you have a nosh, you meet a nice person and do what you want, but I don't want to know about it; just be careful, I don't need a grandchild that badly--well I do, come to think of it, you're not getting any younger you know, and when are you going to meet someone, please ?! And whatever you do, don't do anything that people will talk about; you know those nosy neighbors. And don't worry about me, I'll be home waiting up for you; stay as late as you want, I'll be okay by myself. Just have fun, and make your spirit ecstatic as they say, be joyful of the earth, and I'll be fine. It will give me a chance to read that Danielle Steele book I've had by my bed for the last year. I don't need to go out and have fun; I'm not a spring chicken anymore, after all. Which reminds me, the doctor says I need to watch my cholesterol. Do you know any good diet books?
What do you mean, how should you act at these silly things? Just love everybody and everything: that's what your Mother wants you to do; after all, that's the secret to staying young and living forever. And believe me, sometimes it's really does seem like it's been forever. My arthritis is killing me! That Cauldron Ceridwen gave me must be losing its oomph, you know, the one that she gave me for my birthday a couple of years ago, the one I use to drink wine from? You suppose maybe it's from when I put in the dishwasher?
So listen to your Mother, She Who Knows Best: I know everything, that's why I'm your mother, and I can still spank you if I wanted to. But I wouldn't want to hurt my precious baby. I give the knowledge of how to make good knaidlech, and what to put in the cholent, and beyond death I give peace and freedom and reunion with those who have gone before--yecch, how morbid! Who wrote this mishegoss? Eugene O'Neill? No, if you want that you have to please your mother. I don't ask for anything, or at least, I don't ask for much; after all I know you love me, even if you do give me all that aggravation. Just a little peace and quiet is all I ask from you, and maybe you can settle down finally and give me a grandchild? I'm not getting any younger, you know. I would like to see a grandchild before I move to Sun City or Century Village. Is that too much for your mother to ask? No?
To flip through the pages of my BOS faster...
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Brightest of Blessings