The last time my mother was in a hospital, an essay by Thich Nhat
Hanh moved in front of my eyes. "Our mother is the teacher who first
teaches us love, the most important subject in life," he wrote.
"Without my mother I could never have known how to love. Thanks to her I
can love my neighbors. Thanks to her I can love all living
beings. Through her I acquired my first notions of understanding and
compassion."
My mother, Miriam A. Solomon, died on January 20, which happened to
be the seventh anniversary of the inauguration of a man and a
presidential regime that she loathed. Once, several years ago, when I
referred to George W. Bush as "an idiot," she made a correction by
pointing out he's much worse than that; she used the adjective
"evil."
At my parents' apartment, taped on the front door for a long time, a
little poster said: "The America I Believe In Doesn't Torture
People." The poster was from Amnesty International USA -- an
organization that my mom wrote many protest letters to dictators for --
and it summed up her devotion to human decency rather than
counterfeit versions of American democracy.