Celebrating Mom’s Unforgettable Spirit

I miss my mom; she was a class act. She had style, looks, and most of all brains. She knew how to dress, how to talk, and, according to my father, how to walk. Dad was a New York beat cop in a small, somewhat affluent village on Long Island. Every weekday afternoon, he would stand sentinel at the local train station to await my mother as she disembarked from the New York City train. They were stra…