My Mother -- Love is Self Sacrifice
May 12, 2018
(left. My mother feeding my brother in 1958)
My annual Mother's Day article slightly revised
By her example, my mother,
Helen Iskowicz Makow (1919-1983),
taught me by example
"I grew up in an era when the media taught us that homemakers were not cool. Women like my mother who nurtured and loved their families were denigrated. That attitude rubbed off on me."
by Henry Makow Ph.D.
While the Illuminati are working overtime to make young women unfit for family, I'm glad to see Mother's Day enjoying a vogue. Restaurants are booked solid as families prepare to honor mothers for their sacrifice.
My biggest regret is that I never showed my love to my mother before she died in 1983 of breast cancer. I think she knew I loved her but at 33, I was still too self-centered to repay her in kind. With embarrassment, I remember sitting in her hospital room marking term papers. When people are dying, we cannot really say our goodbyes. It is awkward. We want to maintain the illusion of recovery.
(Left. The nuclear family is the building block of a healthy society. Dad took this picture of us.)
I learned from her how a woman brings love into the world by her selfless dedication to family. When someone totally sacrifices for you, when someone is unconditionally for you, it's pretty hard not to love them back with all your heart.
Mothers are the unsung heroes of society. They do the difficult, thankless work of nurturing and teaching helpless children in sickness and in health.
My mother's credo was to serve her husband first, children second, Canada third and Israel fourth. She wasn't on the list.
She never demanded anything in return; and as result, we took her for granted. We exploited her.
She was so selfless that I noticed when once at dinner, she took a choice piece of meat for herself.
Once, when I was eleven and doing a TV appearance in NYC for "Ask Henry," a producer showed us the sights in his sports car.
We had an accident. The car door flew opened and my mother fell on to the pavement.
I screamed in panic, "Mom!"
Thankfully, she wasn't hurt.
Why did it take an accident to show her that?
My mother had survived the war by passing as a Gentile. She didn't finish high school and didn't read books. But she had
When I was eight-years-old, I related an incident that occurred at school. She told me to be strong and stand up for what is right.
You don't learn that in school. You learn that from life.