Mrs. Anna Slate

Mother. She is getting up there in years, now. Born in 1921, she was 35 when she married Father, and 42 when I was born. Mother has strong memories of the Great Depression. She is very old fashioned and does not waste.

Our house is heated by oil, and she is very frugal about it. If one is cold, one should dress warmly. We have no air conditioning, but the house was insulated in the early 80s. I have been trying to get her to change the windows, but she sees no need for it.

She does her own canning, bakes bread, and buys meat (what little she gets) from a local kosher butcher. Oh, did I mention she is Jewish? Yes, and all that it entails. 86 years old, and she attends synagogue faithfully. She still wears black, mourning for Father. She drinks a little wine on the Sabbath and takes the bus or walks when she goes out. She knows how to drive, but her license expired long ago and she does not see the need.

Need. If there is one word for Mother, it is Need, accompanied by its evil Nemesis, Waste. She makes quilts of her old clothes, and only replaces them as they wear.

Still, the house is nice, in an understated way. Mostly, a person sees its age, but now it is old enough to have age equate with class. There are doilies everywhere, and it is very clean. If Mother is not feeling up to cleaning, she makes me do it, or gets help from someone else in the community. She has gray hair, a gaunt face well covered in lines, and walks with a cane. She barely needs it, and she is sturdy, if slow. Still, she can tire easily.

I am a major disappointment to her. She will tell any girl I am a wonderful man, but will tell me I am a drunken sot and why don't I came to synagogue with her? I love her, and will take care of her as long as she lives, but sometimes I wish I had someone else who could look after her. Especially since she thinks she looks after me!