[Morton Weinstein]

Death comes to us eventually. It may be a friend, a loved one, a colleague. But it comes. It comes. It came to me this past week and I would love to share how I coped with it.


As some of you know, my father died, leaving me with considerable wealth. He left behind my grieving mother, who took to her bed and basically refused to move from there. She developed decubiti (bed sores) and oy the smell and viscous discharge. Even nurses had to wear special respirators that helped defeat the aroma. Well, when I finally got up the courage to visit, she looked at me, said she loved me, and passed away. She remained Jewish so I imagine she is burning in Hell although some Christians have told me God will forgive His Chosen People - the Jews - come the Day of Judgment. If He does, He does. I know I'm Heavenbound.


So how did I get through this? I prayed, of course. It didn't hurt that mother's wealth is also now mine. But money doesn't buy a mother's love. It does buy a 22 foot yacht, however, on which I sit and write this. It helps relieve the pain to know my God has blessed me with this beautiful boat which seems to attract the attention of young ladies. None of them have come aboard. Oy the difficulty of courtship. As I sit here in my sweater and watch the waves beat up against the dock (I don't know how to drive the boat yet) I remember the times I spent at Mother's knee listening to her tell me how important it is to marry a good Jewish girl and I am thinking, "Nah. I want a good woman who loves Jesus and knows how to cook knishes with mustard and a decent macaroni and cheese." I don't have many good memories of my mom because she pretty much hated me after I accepted the Savior I killed. "Those Christians will never accept you," she said.


I hope she's wrong. Have a good Sunday.


Morton W.