Without my mom

This is going to be a tough week for me. My mom, Ruth Friedland, died last month on April 13.

Now, a month later, May 13 is Mother’s Day. And two days later would have been her 93rd birthday. So I am quickly accumulating the hurtful “firsts” — first month of her passing, first Mother’s Day without her, first year of her not being here when I say “Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.”

My mom was a subscriber to the New Haven Register for decades, maybe even before she moved into her house in 1955. There really is something wonderful about having the news actually at your fingertips, turning and folding pages, clipping and filing articles and coupons, sharing sections of the paper across the kitchen table. Digital newspapers lose the tactile sense of reality that’s intrinsic to physical newspapers.

My mom really loved the Register and the dependability of the carriers.

She wrote a number of letters to the editor and often got phone calls from strangers who thanked her. Off the top of my head, I remember some of the issues she wrote about: the high property taxes that were hurting homeowners, the skyrocketing cost of prescription drugs, the need for every American to have the same quality of guaranteed healthcare that our congresspeople receive, the need for Yale to pay its fair share of taxes.

Her last letter to the editor, printed Aug. 30, 2017, was about her friend Dr. Pauli Murray, who now has a Yale college named after her.

Newspapers are a vehicle for two-way communication. In time, when I go through her file cabinet, I’ll come across the folders of her articles and be reminded of all the topics she shared with other readers.

Often this past year at breakfast, while reading the paper, she’d see something that caught her eye and would say, “I have to write a letter, look at this!” But she didn’t, and I missed the boat by not being persistent in encouraging her, as we were too tied up in day-to-day life and managing her various health issues.

In addition to her letters, there’s another way Mom left her mark on the Register — she was one of the many readers who, years ago, incessantly telephoned to complain when the daily bridge hand in the classified section for a while was printed in an extremely small font. Mom was an avid card player and an excellent bridge player. Although I don’t play the game, I enjoy seeing the bridge hand and strategy given its prominence, and I smile at her persistence and remember her saying “The squeaky wheel gets the grease!”

I have no doubt that, like all days, Mother’s Day and her birthday will begin with my reading the Register over breakfast. I may read about something that will leave me indignant, and I’ll say I have to write a response to it in a letter to the editor. I may even check out the bridge hand. Perhaps taking on her habits may grant me some comfort in keeping her close.

This is going to be one tough week.