My mother Ruth Berger was born 110 years ago today. It seems only fitting that I will address a women’s club to talk about What Lies Within, the book I wrote about my childhood as a tribute to my wonderful mother. (She was a very private person, and I’m not sure she would approve my tell-all story, but I think she might be proud.)
Ruth Berger instilled strong values that have remained with me more than fifty-three years after her untimely death, when I was only fifteen. She found me in a hospital, a newborn baby girl, whose unwed teenage mother could not keep her. Ruth and her husband, Harry, brought me home and raised me with their daughter Blanche, whom they adopted four years earlier. My mother filled our home with love, books, music, kindness, caring, and her delicious meals. Family was everything to Ruth, as family is everything to me.
Coincidentally, twelve years ago today I found the family of my birth. I searched for them to find answers to my medical history. Instead, I discovered a warm, loving Italian family who lived only five miles from where I was raised. My birth father passed away thirteen months before I located my family, but my mother Angela; brother, John; and sister Barbara all wanted to meet me. They welcomed me with a joyful reunion.
John died suddenly six years ago, and with his death my birth family’s interest in me waned. No matter how hard I tried to get to know them or what I did to try and please them, I would never become one of them. This lesson has taken years to learn, and I now realize our reunion was short-lived and bittersweet.
I’m happy to know my roots, but I believe my upbringing influenced the adult I became. I thank Ruth Berger for that, and I carry her love and lessons with me every day. Happy birthday, Mommy!