Sorry to hear about your Mom. She sure was a patient and loving woman. I have a lot of memories, from Eastern Avenue back to the Myrtle/Summit hood — and she’s in a lot of them, just looking at us and shaking her head. Sled-riding concussions … “The Fight” … Late one night we were all on your deck overlooking the Karmann Ghias carcasses in the back yard, and she came out to ask quite sternly: “who’s tracking blood all over my kitchen floor?” We looked at each other like “say wha?” … and it turned out to be ME. I’d cut my foot badly but hadn’t felt it. So she grabbed me by the ear (we must have been about 20) and pulled me to the bathroom sink, where she washed it off and bandaged it, then sent me back out. Always taking care of people she was.