Mama Goldberg, a public library, common sense knowledge and education sandwich

Dear Mama Goldberg – like you told us so many times – you didn’t raise any dummies.  Your house, kept immaculate by the copious use of bleach and fragrant with fried, sautéed, steamed and stewed onions.  Food was never lacking and no one who entered our house ever left hungry.  But Mama what you were hungry for was the quest for knowledge. The pink stucco California track house was filled with dime-store figurines of massive museum sculptures, melmac dishes that copied famous china patterns, and of course, plastic sofa covers.  But on every coffee table, on every shelf and in every room (including the bathrooms) were books and magazines.

For Mama a trip to the library was an adventure, an expedition into a sacred place.  Mama had decided long ago that culture and education was what you created. Any disinterest in studies and learning was forbidden.  In fact, the five of us kids thought you had to pass tests to survive until dinnertime. Pop questions before, during and after eating included:

“What is the sixth amendment and who used it last week?”  “Name the 23rd President of the United States,” or “How many floors is the Empire State Building?” or “Describe the Klu Klux Clan and why are they meshuggenas?”

My Mama grew up in the tenements of NY, one of six fatherless girls.  She left school in the eighth grade to work the hat factories on the lower East Side to support sisters, Tessa, Lily, Yetta, Esther and Julie.  But you always reminded us that you worked to educate yourself throughout your life with night classes and constant reading. And I must stay Mama’s brain never stopped working.  Nor did you suffer laziness (especially the potential of raising lazy children) lightly.

Mama, you never stopped learning, I believe this is because when you lose something you value, and the thirst for it is never quenched.