Friday, November 10, 2023
Eulogy - St. Joseph's Church - Maplewood NJ
October 28, 2023
Good Morning.
My mother loved all of you and I know you loved her. And even if you never met my mom she would love you for showing up -- a lesson she taught us over and over. And this love continued to magnify her spirit throughout her life.
Just as one adjective cannot describe my mother, neither can one person’s memories do her justice. So Elizabeth, Kerry and I would like to share a few of the recollections that friends and relatives have offered these last few days, and I would urge you to read the full text of what everyone has written that is posted on the funeral home's website along with Elizabeth's wonderful obituary.
To start at the beginning, when my mother was born her father Thomas saw her first, and he told my grandmother Jennie that their new baby looked like a queen. So she was named Regina - queen in Italian. The next day when my grandmother laid eyes on her tiny, scrawny, premature baby she wondered about that name, but Regina did, indeed, grow into her name, reigning over parties and meals and a full and satisfying life. She put into practice this quote she loved from the poet e.e. cummings:
To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.
Her cousin Barbarann, my Aunt Bobby -- summed it up, “She was always full of fun, daring, loving, determination, independence and always told like it was. No sugarcoating.” From an early age, my mom loved gathering people together. Barbarann tells this story:
We, with Joan & the girls in the neighborhood, would create shows with singing and dancing, turning the grapevine in the back yard into a stage. One time, Regina invited all the people on the block to see the show on a Saturday night. None of us knew that she had invited the whole block until she told our mothers that we needed drinks and snacks for the entire neighborhood. I remember we were only 12 years old and we made our own costumes, but she made darn sure that she was the star of the show.
Her brother, my Uncle Tom, related that his big sister Regina was always watching over for her baby brother, often in her very unique way. During his long-haired, tough Brooklyn-guy stage, my mother was always threatening to cut his hair. He said,
One night as I was sleeping, she came into my bedroom and chopped most of my hair off. I was outraged and was going to get back at her. The next night I went into her bedroom with a scissor to cut off her pageboy hairdo but found my mother in her bed. That was Regina...always looking out me.
While cleaning out my mother’s Brooklyn apartment recently, we came upon her report cards from St. Francis of Assisi grammar school. Her teachers noted that she spent a great deal of time talking in class. This socializing continued through high school where she was the life of many parties and dances – in fact, she was so social that she got left back during her junior year.
That turned out fine though, because as a result, she met a whole other group of lifelong friends including her dear friend Pat Macauly Rorke. As Pat recalls:
Regina was left back into my class, the class of 1958. The Nun in charge of our class sat her next to me, took me aside and said ‘Be kind to her’. I thought there might be something wrong with her but two weeks later, Sister commanded Regina to stand and exchange seats with another girl, exclaiming “I’ve had enough of you two carrying on and disrupting the entire class with your antics.” That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship -- we would go down to Greenwich Village with our hair combed straight, mascara on, and smoke long cigarettes as we listened to terrible poetry, or we’d go to a dance hall on Second Avenue where college men hung out."
My mother was not just about parties and fun, however. As many of you know, my mother’s father died when she was very young. But despite, or maybe in some ways because, of that terrible loss, she was ensconced in the bosom of a large, loving, extended family with her Aunt Roe at the helm and the fierce love and loyalty of her mother. And perhaps this helps to explain her profound interest in and empathy for almost everyone she encountered. Every single person she came across, including so many health care workers over these last years – x- ray techs, nurses, nurses’ aides -- would be peppered with questions about their lives, where they lived, their chosen profession, etc. While this was quite perplexing to some and made us cringe at times when we were young, I truly believe that my mother was keenly aware that everyone is living a life as vivid and complex and as her own, and every person she encountered deserved some small recognition. And she was interested—truly interested -- in all of them.
As Kerry said,
"my mother never held a grudge -- she found that ridiculous. She would often say to us, ‘We don't know how much time we have on this earth, we need to forgive people and tell them we love them when we have a chance. Coulda, shoulda, woulda is not what you want to be saying when someone is 6 feet under.’"
Her daring and independence helped her out in so many crazy situations. While traveling in Europe with Elisa, Elizabeth's mother-in-law, Elisa describes how they became separated in the Paris Metro system during rush hour (after my mother’s attempt to force a subway door open with a baguette failed and her cries in English of “Stop the train” had no effect).
“Hours later she found me. I heard about all the people she talked to on her trek back to the station: the Parisians, Americans, Algerians and the homeless around the station. Being her social self, very resourceful and city smart, she was excited about what she had experienced. I realized that she could find her way out of any situation, anywhere, with her easy smile, her bubbly manner, and her trust in the goodness of people no matter who they were or where they hung around.”
My Aunt Fran describes my mother as “a loving, kind, and extremely generous sister in law. She always gave an abundance of beautiful birthday and Christmas gifts, and would send a funny greeting card for every occasion and holiday. She kept Hallmark in business.”
And then there’s the food!
Many of us have vivid memories of my mother toting bags of bread, olives and cheese and cookies from Brooklyn to her brother's house in Port Jefferson and out here to New Jersey. (As we know, there are no Italian bakeries or grocery stores in New Jersey or Long Island.) She even sent a box bulging with Italian cheese and olives and bread sticks to Nepal when Jennifer and I were there for months while adopting Ella.
Elizabeth’s friend Michael talked about coming over for dinner in middle school.
While everyone else's family was ordering in Chinese food or pizza, you could always count on a home-cooked meal at Regina's -- served with love and a smile along with a sprig of rosemary.
Elizabeth’s childhood friend Rachel described getting roped in to help with chores in our house – and loving it.
"I would help Regina and Elizabeth dip baby’s breath into tea so that it looked antique before she used it to decorate the Christmas tree. For hours we sat dipping the baby’s breath one-by-one and then setting them out to dry overnight. White lights, antiqued baby’s breath and little red ribbons is how I remember Regina’s Christmas tree – it was beautiful, classy and smelled like earl grey and pine needles. As a Jewish girl from Brooklyn, it was magical to be included in Regina’s version of Christmas. (Or as Elizabeth's friend Michael put it, stepping into that house at Christmas, it was if the house on Schenectady Avenue was in the middle of Vermont.).
My mom also had a profound faith in God. Kerry describes my mother’s spiritual certainty and trust that things would work out, and that God would not forsake us, if we put in the work. Amid her amazing zest for life, my mother did not fear death, in fact she was clear that when she died she would see her father and the dollhouse that her grandfather built for her with little electric lights in every room.
Abigail, Lily, Ella, James, Beatrice and Leo -- you were the stars in your grandmother’s eyes. When she was in rehab after her brain injury back in 2014, I would show her pictures of all of you to encourage her as she was working hard to start walking and talking again. She wanted nothing more than to see you all grow into your beautiful selves. And now her star is lodged in your—and our--hearts forever.
Through all the calamities and challenges she endured, my mother lived by the words of Victor Frankl, "yes, to life, in spite of everything."
I’ll close with another quote from Michael:
Regina was a cathedral of a woman. She was so full of zest and joy and love and life and affection and heart and wisdom and laughter. I am quite sure that she is in her new home as we speak, with a glass of wine and something baking in the oven, and a table of our loved ones.. and her loved ones who have passed on…and she is filling the room with joy and laughter.
