Jill Of Some Trades

And Master Of At Least One


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It’s Not All Black and White

The events of the last week, namely the murder of George Floyd by a police officer and the incident in Central Park with Christian Cooper, a Harvard educated African American man who request for leashing a dog ended up with the threat of police action for no reason. Seeing these events unfold were horrifying. When George Floyd, gasping for breath called for his deceased Mama, my heart broke even more. I debated whether I wanted to watch the video, and in the end, I chose to. As horrible as it was, I felt it was important to see with my own eyes something that we can no longer turn away from.

There is a famous Latin quote, ‘Culpae poenae par esto. ‘ Let the punishment fit the crime. George Floyd’s was passing a counterfeit bill. Christian Cooper’s was being in the right place, at the wrong time, trying to enjoy his hobby – bird watching. Ahmaud Arbery’s crime was jogging. Two out of the three were guilty of nothing, and the third made a mistake that a white person would have just received a warning for. The punishment did not fit the crime and neither will the police officer with a charge of third degree murder. Anyone guilty of a hate crime, and let’s not kid ourselves, Arbery and Floyd’s deaths were hate crimes, should have also have that as part of their punishment and sentence.

Christian Cooper said something very interesting:

“Any of us can make — not necessarily a racist mistake, but a mistake,” Mr. Cooper said, “And to get that kind of tidal wave in such a compressed period of time, it’s got to hurt. It’s got to hurt.” He continued with:

“I’m not excusing the racism,” he said. “But I don’t know if her life needed to be torn apart.”

Forgiving words. We all have knee jerk reactions. My first reaction is that Amy Cooper got what she deserved. My friend, who like me, is part of a minority group, said the following about her firing:

“I think people like this should keep their jobs but be on permanent probation. They need to expected to be involved in multi-racial social projects and report back to their supervisors and the community with the hope that this can bring about a greater caring. While keeping their jobs donations will made from portions of their income to social projects. Firing has the potential to increase resentment and more trouble.”

It made me stop for a minute, and think, maybe there is more than one way to look at things. When someone who is racist looks at a black person, their knee-jerk reaction is to think criminal. If you are somewhat open-minded, your first reaction is that Amy Cooper should be fired. But, what if the right answer is somewhere in between? Remember that with anything in life, there is always going to be your version, my version, and the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Just food for thought.

Cityline host (a Canadian national lifestyle show) Tracy Moore happens to be a woman of colour. She was DM’d by people for speaking out about how white people can make life less frustrating for people of colour. She was told that she is a racist. She used a hashtag that I found interesting #allyisaverb. It’s true. A black person shouldn’t be comforting guilty white people right now, it’s not their job. Imagine if for 400 years, you were enslaved, then freed, then still not having full rights, you finally get some in the 1960s, only to see hatred and bigotry continue on. To see every step forward met with one step back. If you aren’t aware, read. If you don’t want to read a book, find an article. But, don’t make it their job to explain the issues to you. We live in a digital age, use the internet.

Canadians have to stop thinking that we are better than Americans. There are hate crimes here too. As a Jewish woman, I’ve seen so many reports of synagogue being desecrated I’ve lost count. Hate crimes against Jews are on the rise. I live in absolute fear, not that I will be harmed, but that the cemetery where my mother is will be desecrated. A non-minority person never has to even think of this. Imagine having to worry that in an instant, something that you poured your heart into could be destroyed by someone who hates you for how you were born.

There is a debate if Judaism is a nationality, race or religion. Many do not consider me white. That’s fine, I’ll take it. As a minority, I feel that it is my duty to speak out wherever it is possible. To realize that ally is a verb. To hope that our adage of “Never Again” applies not just to a second Holocaust for Jewish people, but for all victims of racism, sexism or hatred of any kind.


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He Only Has One Ball and Other Ways My Mother Made Me Laugh

My mother and I were in the hospital as she was getting another treatment about a year before she died. My mother was in a bed, but there was a gentleman close by in a chair talking LOUDLY about his orchiectomy. I looked a my mother with a question in my eyes because she was very well versed in medical terminology, having worked in my father’s office for so many years. My mother looked at me, and in a very LOUD whisper said “He only has one ball.” I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we were in tears, we were laughing so hard. The gentleman never knew the difference, but he was such a loud talker, every time he got on the phone, my mother and I would mouth “He only has one ball” to each other and each time, we cracked up. Whatever the situation, and no matter how sick she was, my mother either made me laugh or she would find something humorous in a situation. She had an amazing sense of humour and was one of the funniest people that I have ever met.

One of Joe Biden’s (yes, I know, but the quote fits) most famous quotes is that “The day will come when the memory of the person that you lost will bring a smile to your lips before it brings a tear to your eye.” The good news is that sometimes, I laugh before the tears come when I think about some of the things that my mother has said and done or just an expression that she had on her face. My tiny mother was the source of so many big laughs over the years. As time goes by, one of my biggest fears is that I’ll forget something that she has said or done or even just her hilarious reactions to my own oopsies. Maybe these stories are just funny to me, but the greatest gift that I can give my mother now is to remember her.

Flirting With the Fireman

I remember the last time that my mother had to go to the Emergency Room. My aunt was in town, and it was October 2017. My mother was short of breath and I was so worried. I called 911, and the firefighters were the first responders on the scene. All of the sudden, my mother, who was so sick, was WIDE AWAKE and started flirting with the fireman, who she thought looked like Tom Selleck. I was trying to give him information to, you know, hopefully save her life, and she asked him to take her to the bar across the street instead of the hospital. He left the room for one minute, but he had a big smile on his face. I was pleading with her to be good for just 5 minutes. She’s said, “Jill, he’s so handsome, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.” I was torn between laughing hysterically and scolding her. She had a huge smile, so I told her to be good. She kept flirting with him at the hospital too. I gave up.

The World’s Most Expensive Coconut Cream Pie

I’ve always been gullible and my mother always took advantage of that fact for her own amusement. Every year for our birthday, we get to pick our birthday cake. My mother made the absolute best mocha chiffon cake, but the poor woman had to make it so many times, I decided to give her a break. I prefer pie over cake, so I asked for the coconut cream pie from Scaramouche (a fancy Italian restaurant in Toronto). I had never had it before, and just wanted her to get a slice, but that wasn’t my mother. She bought the pie and informed me that it cost $110 but whatever her baby wants, her baby gets. She bought it about a week before my birthday and left it in the freezer.

Every single day for that week, she reminded me how much it was. She’d make little remarks like, you know, it was expensive, but how could I say no to you? I felt sicker and sicker by the day, and I said when you found out the price, you should have said no. My little Mummy told me that she would never do that to me, but she wasn’t sure if I was worth every penny. The day arrives, and I’m sick over it. I’ve never been big on my birthday on a good year, but I felt so selfish. It’s birthday cake time, and I was MISERABLE thinking how could I have made my mother spend that much money. She looked at me, with the BIGGEST smile on her face and said, “What, are you stupid? Did you really think I’d spend $110 on a pie? Jesus Murphy (still not sure who he is, but my mother said Jesus Murphy often) you are gullible. It was $35. Now get that look off of your face and put a smile on it.” I said you were stringing me along this whole time? My mother said, “You bet, and you fall for it every single time. It’s like taking candy from a baby” She killed herself laughing, and then, after berating her for taking advantage of the weak and the helpless, I joined in.

You Look Like a Hooker

My mother was bed-ridden and for the first little while, she had many different care givers until we got her into a routine with the favourite five that would take over. I came to see her just about every day, to check and make sure that she was ok, especially when someone new was there. I walk in, and let’s just say she was wearing makeup from a bad fairy tale. Yes, her lips were as red as blood, but it was her eyebrows that were as black as ebony and Snow White didn’t wear bright green eyeshadow or smudge jet black eye pencil around her eyes. I took one look at her and started laughing and so did she. She said that they woman was trying to be nice and make her feel good by putting some makeup on her. Now, my mother and I both have an inappropriate sense of humour, so half of the things that I find hysterically funny, will never be written. She could also laugh at herself and I never needed a filter around her.

I said, “You look like a cheap hooker. I’m going to take you down the street and sell you for $5 for 5 minutes.” My mother, almost always had an answer for everything and she looked at me and said, “Oh Jill, your awful. I couldn’t last five minutes.” Me, “Ok, I’ll bring the stretcher down and sell you for one minute, there is a market for everything.” My mother said, “Well, you aren’t wrong.” Then we both cracked up. Yes, I know – no harm is meant by this comment.

She Gave Me Fudge

During my mother’s illness, I was constantly in a state of high alert. I constantly had to advocate for her. My goal was for her to spend any energy that she had on herself and things that she enjoyed. I was the squeaky wheel at the hospital going 48 hours before her treatment, telling them that she would need a bed and that they needed to make a note and put it on the white board. The receptionists would always remind me that they don’t hold beds, and I would always politely tell them that I knew that this wasn’t the case and that I would wait until her name was down for one.

I was the one who dealt with the pharmacists, the doctors, the lab, and the list went on and on. My mother needed an emergency blood transfusion about two months before she died and they did not have a bed for my bed ridden mother. Her caregiver and I were together, and I was having a fit. I reminded the nurse about the compression fracture that my mother had in her spine. I reminded her that she was very sick. She told me that there were other sick people as well. I reminded her that I wasn’t insensitive, but were they as sick as my mother, for she was the only patient that I cared about.

Anyway, long story short, we did not bond. I was doing my usual, my mother needs this, and this, and what if this happens, etc. The nurse condescendingly told me that there was only supposed to be one person with my mother and either I or the caregiver would need to leave. I always got along with my mother’s nurses, but this one was a piece of work. My mother looked at me, and said, “I’m fine Jill, it’s ok.” and she meant it. I also didn’t want to stress her out, so I said fine, but I’m coming back. Her wonderful caregiver gave me a look like huh? Did that just happen?

I get back about 2 hours later, and my mother is snuggled up in a bed eating fudge, her favourite food of all time. She had a huge smile on her face, and she said the following, “Hi Jill. I told you I was fine. The nurse was so nice. I don’t know why you didn’t get along with her. She got me a bed about ten minutes after you left. And look, she gave me fudge.” Me, “She was horrible to me and Narda agreed (one of her wonderful caregivers). Are you telling me that all it takes for you to forget that fact is some fudge?” She said “You bet.” and popped another piece in her mouth. I told her that in no uncertain terms that she was a brat who could be bribed.

Forever Lost

My mother had the absolute worst sense of direction. She was a great driver though. If she drove us somewhere, she would always go the wrong way. Sadly, it didn’t matter that she was in the car with my sister and I who know the city, she still, somehow got it wrong. Every time I would tell her to go east, she would say “Never you mind with your east, west, north and south, just tell me right or left.” My sister would tell her to turn right. Of course she would turn left and we would be lost in suburbia. I would always spot the way to a major intersection and she would somehow follow those directions. Then she would say, without a trace of irony, “Wasn’t that nice? You got to see a new neighbourhood.” My sister and I would roll our eyes, but then we would all crack up.

There are so many more things that my mother did that were even more funny, I could write a book. Mother’s Day now, reminds me of being the kid who has to stand outside the candy store and can’t come in. I know that this year is different with the self-quarantine, but every email with a Mother’s Day reminder from a retailer or hearing people talk about what they are going to do with their mother stings. I know that it always will, but I will be forever grateful that I had such a wonderful mother.