that I was loved despite my failings or inability to live up to expectations.
Instead, I was given cookies, candy or ice cream.
And I loved those sweets. Really love those sweets.
Lest I be too hard on my parents, I must add that I also learned, over the years, that
most parents do their best, using their own experiences as guides and what they see others
doing with their children. Stress, finances, moving across country, dealing with a society
that was totally foreign to them, and a war that engulfed the entire world and involved
anti-Semitism in much of it was enough to cause my parents many sleepless nights and
concern about what tomorrow would bring.
That my family was not personally touched by the horrors and permanent wounds of
that war is a blessing that can never be forgotten. My uncles and cousins came home to
us. And like every American family that was eager to see what the future would bring,
Daddy worked even harder and was rewarded for it, and Mother did what mothers do
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