By Janel Bladow, Editor-in-Chief

Mothers come in all shapes and sizes, races and religions. But the mothers most joked about are Jewish ones. To find out why, ThriveNYC posed five questions for writer Marnie Winston-Macauley, author of more than 20 books and calendars, including “Yiddishe Mamas: The Truth About the Jewish Mother.”

1. What is a Jewish Mother?
The simple answer of course, is ... a woman with children who was born to a Jewish mother. Boom! Ah ... but then we journey deeper. A 2006 study from the Technion-Israel Institute stated that almost half the world’s Jews of European ancestry can be traced through their DNA to four Jewish mothers who lived 1,000 years ago! Of course we share traits, including at least, a rudimentary knowledge of Yiddish and Yinglish. We’re “family.” When serial killer Son of Sam was finally captured, my late mother almost had a heart attack (David Berkowitz! Oy vey!) A few days later, sighing with relief, she said: “Thank God, he was adopted!” And when a Jew “made it,” we all did. Tribalism’s a trait as is “child first” – sometimes even before husband. We stuff our children with attention, huge sacrifice, involvement, constant feeding, and absolutely – education. As the legendary Dr. Ruth Gruber told me, “Education is what counted, never a car, a lethal instrument.” The Jewish mother derives “nakhes” or Big Pride from her children. Advocacy –political and social, is a major responsibility. Tikkun olam, or fixing the world, is expected. We’re also courageous which is why the number of Jewish woman who have changed society is huge in proportion to our numbers. Lillian Wald, Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan, Barbra Streisand, Ruth Bader Ginsberg are just a few. There were countless unsung Jewish mother heroes during the Holocaust. The Jewish mother tends to magnify. Every thing, every feeling is bigger, louder, more expressive, and dramatic compared with many other cultures. For example, there are more words for idiots, and curses in Yiddish and Yinglish, than Golden Arches. Our curses are creative prophesies that finish off our enemies, 1, 2, 3. (“May the lice in your shirt marry the bedbugs in your mattress and may their offspring set up residence in your underwear!” Whoa!). My favorite quote on the subject of Jewish mothers came from Mallory Lewis, daughter of Shari Lewis who said, “The Jewish mother feels her job isn’t done even after death. You’re never too dead to be a Jewish mother.”

2. What was it like being raised by a Jewish Mother and Jewish Grandmother in NYC?
Intense. And hysterical – in humor and in anger. My late mother ripped the heads off photos of boys who dumped me (which caused the Great Litter Storm of 1970 in Queens). My grandmother was hilarious, though she didn’t know it. When I was in my early twenties, I was hospitalized for a blood clot. By this stage, my grandmother was sitting shiva (the mourning ritual) for me as I wasn’t married. One day she called and said, “So nu, you’re in a hospital, just lying there. Can’t you meet a doctor?” Actually, I’d met an opthamologist. “Oy,” she moaned. “From eyes? No. You want a doctor from brains and hearts! Now dat’s a doctor.” Her entire reason for living after the death of my grandfather was “to move in” – with us. When my mother was in intensive care, gram somehow got through on the phone to her that “Harry Truman died.” When my mother, replied, “That’s too bad,” Gram said, “I bet Bess will now move in ‘mit’ Margaret.” Now that’s determination, never mind chutzpah. One of the strongest (and strangest) memories I have of my grandmother was her “setchel” (satchel). People thought the immense bag with the brass lock was just an old lady’s purse. We knew better. Like Felix’s Magic Bag of Tricks, it had an amazing property: it could refill itself with all sorts of edible goodies. Cheesecake, chicken, Borscht, noodle pudding, kishke, oranges – were all neatly wrapped in a hanky that smelled like My Sin perfume. To this day, I can’t eat chocolate cream pie without a little cologne chaser. Of course, that “setchel” was security. It held rations for a Jewish family on the run. The satchel, with its old, odd cache – was, and always would be ... safety.

3. How are Jewish Mothers different than moms of other religions? And can a non-Jew have the characteristics of a Jewish Mother?
The Jewish mother is most similar to other ethnic moms than to the so-called WASP mother. Think Will’s mother on Will and Grace. She has her own mishegoss (craziness) but her style is cool avoidance of confrontation or emotional largess. She’ll get the migraine, while Grace’s mother is “out there,” exposed in high decibel. Italian and Jewish mothers share many traits – an obsession with food, family, and yes, guilt, for example. Marie Barone could be the negative stereotype of a Jewish mother. The differences derive from separate histories and religions. Whereas the Italian mother is often devoutly Catholic, and may well use religious references ... sin, going to hell, etc. many Jewish mothers are less religious, and use a different style of “discipline.”

4. Why are Jewish Mothers the basis of so many jokes?
About 70 years ago, Jewish mothers were revered. Our image started to tarnish, turning us into a Jewish joke when first generation American sons were eager to fly from the tight Jewish community in America and grab a piece of the Gentile pie. (Adding to this later was feminism, and some media backlash.) The Jewish son often knocked heads with his European mama. Many sons, in particular, felt resentful, frustrated, and ashamed. So, they turned their kvetching into tragic-comedy, in the mode of Portnoy. It was these sons who honed their humor in the Catskills, and moved on to TV, books, theater. Molly Goldberg was respected in the fifties. Then came the vanilla families – the Cleavers, Ozzie and Harriet. When Nancy Walker showed up as Rhoda’s mom, I believe the change in TV truly started. The portrayal, while funny, was miles apart from the loving fixer we saw in Molly Goldberg.

Also, Jewish women are funny. Jewish funny. And we’re verbal. Like a good tsibeleh (onion) we Jews are a complex pastiche, layered with strands of oys running through the joys. We do know that suffering’s involved. No matter how funny, many Jewish mothers are still offended by “the jokes,” feeling they’ve become the joke. Personally, if the humor is funny, told by another Jew, and isn’t a stereotypical two liner, I don’t have a problem with it. After all, most humor has some stereotypical aspects or the joke wouldn’t resonate.

Two of my favorites:

A bus with 30 Hadassah Ladies turned over and were dispatched to heaven. Unfortunately the computers were down, so God had to ask Satan to provide temporary housing. Soon after, He received an urgent telephone call from Satan telling Him to take the women off his hands.

“What’s the problem?” asked God.

Satan replied, “Those Hadassah Ladies are ruining my whole set-up. Only two hours and already they raised $100,000 for an air conditioning system!”

Sheld’n excitedly tells his mother he's fallen in love and going to get married.

“Just for fun, I'm bringing over three women and you guess which one I'm going to marry."

Mama agrees. “Fine, nu, – vatever ...”

The next day he brings three beauties. They sit on the sofa and chat with Mama over a little pound cake. After they leave, Sheld’n says, "Okay, Mama. Which one I'm going to marry?"

Without missing a beat, Mama says ...“The one in the middle with the red hair,”

"You're right ... But Mama... how did you know?" asked Sheldn.

"Because," she says ... "Her, I don't like."

5. Do you have a favorite story about a Jewish Mother?
I love the way the late, great Wendy Wasserstein described her Jewish mother. She referred to her mother’s verve as “Lola-isms,” because Lola Wasserstein was never like other mothers. For example, she once she arrived at Wendy’s apartment dressed as Patty Hearst with beret and toy gun. No Donna Reed, her mother was more Carmen Miranda and wore fruited hats because she was all “go-go.” Lola Wasserstein would take the family to the great Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall every year – and bypass the impossible lines around the block by walking up to the head usher and saying they were visitors from Kansas, in the city for one day only (she chose Kansas because the day before they watched “The Wizard of Oz”). Wendy never doubted her generosity, her love – even though separating herself from her children was impossible. She recalled one Passover when her father sat on her mother’s lap and, as she kissed him, rejoicing in the fact that they had “done it:” Nine grandchildren.

“Phone Home” wasn’t invented by E.T. (But no doubt Steven Spielberg heard it somewhere.)

My own son’s pediatrician had written a note on his chart, which I accidentally saw: “Mother: Lunatic.”

Yet, I, and most of my Jewish Mother sisters, wouldn’t have it any other way!