Out of the pale of Eastern Europe, between the cities of Lublin and Chelm near the Polish-Russian border, our mother was born and lived in towns like Shelyish and Biskava, towns very similar to the one in “Fiddler On The Roof”.

She grew up in extreme poverty, and toil, hardship, and prejudice was her life. In order to get to this great country of ours, they trekked across Europe and embarked on a journey similar to our early pioneers.

So full of history is her story, so important for us not to forget our roots, that some months ago, as Mom lay in her bed, debilitated and weak from her illness, we brought a movie camera and VCR to her house. I said to her, Ma you know how we always talk about Europe, about the family, places where you lived; well I always forget their names so I thought it's a good idea to make a movie about it. She looked up with a smile and said Oh you mean you want to do it before I die. I said yes. she said “okay”, delighting in that we felt she was important enough to want to record for posterity.

Well, for 45 minutes we asked questions and she responded, her voice getting stronger as she got more and more into it. As always happened at mom's, my family members would keep arriving until we had a house full of us talking, joking and having a helluva time. We could bring her no finer present than just to congregate, whether at that house or any of ours, as long as we were together. She stressed that to us over and over, that we take care of one another, that we constantly join as a family in good times and in bad and I think she has taught us well.

She taught us to laugh, not just smile but good healthy laughter. My earliest memories are of all of us sleeping in one room on a cold wintry night, with a “penayan” over us telling jokes until we hit on something where we no longer could control our laughter. Mama loved jokes, clean ones or dirty ones, I didn't matter as long as they were funny and still today, in spite of the great loss we have suffered this past year, when we are together, and it is often, laughter dominates.

Mama taught us religion. Even though we might not be as religious as Mama wanted, she has instilled in us a love of Judaism and of Israel as reflected in the actions of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We grew up in an orthodox house, we went to yeshiva, we learned to love G-d and our fellow man. She taught us to love people, and to treat them well, to make friends.

Mama taught us honesty. Even though we were extremely poor, I remember us always borrowing from the Hebrew free loan society and paying it back on a weekly basis. She was cognizant of every debt she owed, whether small or large, and her reputation followed her. There wasn't a stone in Williamsburg that would hesitate to give her goods on credit.

But the most important thing she taught us was love, pure and simple love, the kind that is all-giving without looking for something in return. She thoroughly loved us and constantly spoke about her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, almost to a point where you could get a little embarrassed by her praise. She thought we were wonderful, that she was blessed by the Lord. Yesterday as we made arrangements for her funeral we reflected on what kind of children we were. My only wish is that our children, no more no less, treat us with the same respect, dedication and love that we showed mama. knowing my nephews, nieces and my kids I am confident that they will.

So we say goodbye Mama. We have no regrets on things we should have done, or things we wanted to say and didn't. All we have are the sweet memories of our life with you, of your beautiful adoring face with that ever present smile. Our love for you will last forever and you will continue to be an inspiration and a guiding light for your offspring.

Written by Samuel Shafran, Joe Shafran’s brother, around 2000, about Anna Schneiderman Shafran, their mother.