Mother

My mother is the most fantastic person you’ll ever meet. She has that charm that captivates people. A laser-sharp intelligence. A wit. Something in her eye. 

She started as an immigrant with no formal education and never belonged anywhere, which means that her mind was never really shaped or tamed by a specific environment. She will say the most outrageous things without batting an eye, which makes her one of those people that will challenge your thoughts, shift your views, and make you barf with laughter.

She cooks, dances, and knows everyone. She drinks, eats, and she even smokes—one (or two) cigarettes a day. She had quit for many years, and when she got to 60, she said, “I’m old now, I’m not going to deprive myself anymore." She became a therapist at fifty, and she practices in ways for which only she has the secret.

Decency—and the fact that it would make for a whole book—forces me to not disclose all of the other things I know about my mother. 

One day I brought a friend home to Cor…