Thanksgiving 1979



Neighborhood: Gravesend

Thanksgiving 1979
Sadie by The Author

At a Scherma family holiday meal there was usually mayhem. Thirty people including Sadie, chief chef, and Frank and their four sons and their families and friends and Aunt Angie sat around a set of long tables. The youngest kids were placed nearby at a separate table. There was always too much food and the wine flowed readily. So did the conversation. The current topic was about having children. If Sadie were on Oprah, she would be a perfect guest. She tells all. Sadie and her younger sister Angie were speaking. I was sitting nearby.

“You need to have four or five kids to understand what it means to be a mother,” Sadie said.

“So, I only had one and then my husband got sick,” countered Aunt Ang. Her husband not only had M.S., but he died in 1966 at age 52.

Karen, a niece, said, “You need a man around the house, Aunt Ang.”

“Get the hell outta here!” said Angie.

Sadie, speaking to Karen, her grandchild, said, “Sweetheart, you said you wanted bread and butter. It’s right there. Go and eat.”

Sadie continued, speaking to me, “Your father saw me give birth to Ted [her first son] and said, ‘Never again, Sadie, never again!”

I asked, “How did he see you?”

“I gave birth at home.”

Someone chimed in, “Sure, while they were making pasta fazoula.”

“No,” said Sadie, “they were in the kitchen making Jewish cheesecake…the nurse was showing them how to make Jewish cheesecake.”

My friend Jim Goldstein laughed out loud.

Angie said, “I was standing outside the bedroom!”

Sadie continued, “Frank said to me that after Ted, ‘Never again, Sadie, never again.’ and one year later I was caught again. And he told me, ‘Never.'”

“Ma, how was it when I was born?” I was the fourth son.

“You were a big mistake. All the baths I took. Soaped myself, burnt myself. And the mustard…”

Sadie, my mother, unstoppable, continued, “For four or five months I couldn’t accept it and I was fighting with my husband…he couldn’t say a word to me. You’d be surprised how angry I was that I was pregnant again.”

My sister-in-law Gloria, needling her, said, “So, you took it out on Dad. And where were you when it happened?”

“Well, it’s was HIS fault!”

Gloria, “Why was it his fault?”

“Because it was his fault!” a victimized Sadie asserted.

“No sir, no sir. It doesn’t take two to tango. You can get caught.”

“Yeah, but you enjoyed it,” countered Gloria.

“I wish we had the pill in those days!”

Sadie continued, “…and you know the funny thing is that when I gave birth to Robert, I didn’t want to go to the doctor. The doctor knew how I felt about doctors.”

She turned to her oldest grandson Anthony, aged 22. He said, “But, grandmother, you have to go to the doctor for blood tests.” Her grandson, the actor, always sported a real Brooklyn accent. He would urge me to see a “guht movie” he had seen or to read an article in the “Toozday” edition of the”Daily Nooz.” But now after elocution lessons, he spoken in stentorian tones and uttered words like “Tyuesday” and “Daily Nyews.” So here was a chance to utter lines as if in a comedic play. In a family of hams, Anthony was no exception.

“Well, you’re right,” she replied to her grandson, “The doctor said, ‘You’ve got to go for blood tests.’ I said, ‘I’ll go for the blood tests and then I’ll call you when I’m ready to give birth.'”

Gloria, astounded, asked, “You had only one blood test and then you gave birth?”

Sadie, making it perfectly clear, said, “When I needed him, I called him and then I gave birth. Period.”

“Grandmother?” Anthony entreated.

Sadie, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“What’s for dessert, grandmother?”

“Don’t you want chestnuts, and roasted almonds, and fennel and fruit first?”

“I have to go to work in an hour and twenty minutes,” he said.

“All right, you have time,” Sadie told him.

“But, grandmother, when will you have coffee and dessert?” That question never got answered. Gloria went back to the original conversation.

“So was Ronny unexpected too?” she asked. He was the third son.

Sadie explained, “I was scared, ‘Oh no, another child…’ I already had Mickey and Ted, one was 9 and the other 12.”

Ronny, in the background was starting a food fight with the nieces and nephews. He also took the carving knife when the 21 pound turkey was placed on the table and stabbed it saying, “Now, we can eat it. It’s dead.”

Sadie pleaded, “Ronny, Ronny, don’t throw….that kid!” Ron was 41 years old and presided over a rather successful software company.

Gloria, going back to the topic at hand asked, “You got pregnant with Ronny and you weren’t happy, right?”

“No, I wasn’t happy. After I had Ted and Mickey… remember I was 19! I said, ‘No more children.’ But a year later I got caught again and I had an abortion and I got rid of that. And then a year later I had another abortion. I said, ‘What the hell is going on? What…am I going to have one baby after another?'”

She looked around the table searching out for Frank, my father, her husband, “That bastard! Where is he?”

With Sadie you always got the facts, the truth of what happened. She had no censor, no monitoring device. She was like a psychotic person who just said what came to mind without thought of consequence.

Now, most of us knew this story. Sadie had two kids, then two abortions, then two more kids. But her sister Angie was hearing this for the first time. As close as the sisters were, there were secrets.

Startled, Angie asked, “You had an ABORTION?”

No answer.

Then again, incredulous, to Frank, “My SISTER had an abortion?”

To Sadie, “YOU had an abortion?”

Sadie answered triumphantly, “Two!”

“…and your husband allowed you to do this?” Angie asked.

“Why not?”

“You killed two kids!” Ang shouted in disbelief.

“I killed two kids? You mean I killed two bloods,” Sadie retorted always the graphic one.


In righteous rage, “Come on, I would’ve had six kids… I would’ve gone crazy.”

“Who took you for these abortions?” Ang asked.

“My sister-in-law.”

“Your sister-in-law is no damn good!” said Ang, “I don’t believe this.”

Sadie reasserted, “I only got rid of bloods.” With this exit line, Sadie announced that she needed to go to the bathroom and excused herself.

A few days later, Sadie and I were sitting at the kitchen table, each sipping a fresh cup of coffee from the electric Farberware percolator.

“So, Sadie, you tried to have me aborted several times? Is that really true?” I inquired.

“Yes, I didn’t want any more kids. I couldn’t stand it. You were a mistake.,” she said for the umpteenth time.

“Sadie, do you know how it feels to be referred to as a ‘mistake?'” I asked.

“You were all mistakes. Not just you,” Sadie clarified.

“I know. You’ve been telling us that all our lives. Don’t you realize what a terrible thing that is to say to a son? It made me feel unwanted and unloved. And that’s how I went into the world feeling, unwanted and unloved.”

“Oh, no, Robert. That wasn’t it at all.”

“Still, Ma, it wasn’t a good thing to say,” I asserted.

“I know, I know. I was crazed. It was 1942, the middle of the war. Your father was working all kinds of hours and was starting to gamble and maybe drink too much. I had three kids and I was scared.”

“Yeah, Ma, go on.”

Sadie continued. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was beside myself. I didn’t tell your father but I tried to get rid of you with sitz baths, saline solutions, a whole bunch of things. Nothing worked. And then…..”

“And then what, Ma?”

“And then you were born. And as soon as I saw your beautiful face, I fell in love with you.”

I didn’t know whether to give her a big hug or slap her across the face. I said, “Ma, you never told me this part of the story… the important part. Instead of feeling unwanted and unloved, I could have felt wanted and loved. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I implored.

“I don’t know why. I thought I did. But apparently I didn’t,” Sadie answered in a soft and apologetic tone.

Well, I was in my 36th year and Sadie was in her 69th. Why couldn’t she have told me this thirty years ago? I could have avoided all those years of misery and feeling the outsider. You know, they really ought to give that Parents’ Manual they keep saying isn’t given out when a child is born. Somebody ought to write that goddamned book and get it published.

“All I know is that from the first moment I saw you, I loved you,” Sadie reiterated.

It was like that time I was talking to my dad in the hospital; he was in serious trouble. It was the same year. As he entered the O.R., he yelled out, “Tell Sadie this is it!”

A day later he told us, “Tell Sadie this isn’t it.” We were relieved.

But when I thought he could be dying, I asked my father an overwhelming question.

“Dad, do you love me?” I didn’t know. How could I have known my dad all these years and not know?

He paused a moment deep in thought. Then he spoke.

“Robert, I have always loved you.” I almost lost my breath.

Why hadn’t I known? My dad, like my mom, hadn’t let me in on the secret until now. Or was I just not listening? Or not seeing what was obvious to others and to them?

Sadie: “From the first moment I saw you, I loved you.”

Frank: “Robert, I have always loved you.”

Love was always there and now it was recovered, or at least uncovered. And for this I was grateful.

Rob Scherma is a psychologist in New York City who hails from his Italian-American roots in Brooklyn. While he studied psychology at various universities and psychoanalytic institutes, his major training occurred within the confines of his wild and wacky family where he learned that despite people’s nuttiness, there is light at the end of the tunnel and it is filled with fun and laughter.

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§ 30 Responses to “Thanksgiving 1979”

  • Liz says:

    This is a lovely story. Vivid characters, believable dialogue.

  • Rich says:

    Such a beautiful, sometimes tragic story! Sadie is a riot; I loved everything about her. Doc, it’s a blessing to know that Sadie, in spite of the circumstances, was in love with you from the day she layed her eyes on you.

  • Melissa says:

    Lovely! Funny, moving, dynamic dialogue. Bravo!

  • Jenny says:

    What a super story!! As I was reading it , I was picturing the scene, the characters, etc.
    Also the look on your face as you were discovering it all!!
    Love it!!

  • Cullen says:

    Delicously outrageous. Sadie the loose cannon is such a memorable character, and so delightfully portrayed. Makes me wonder how much I may have been mislead by things my parents did or didn’t say, either by taking too seriously the things that sounded bad, or being too self-absorbed to hear the things that would have sounded good. In any event, the writer has drawn a loving portrait of his mother, so he obviously escaped any deep damage from her verbal escesses.

  • marti says:

    hi bob
    nice job capturing family, time, place and GUTS
    thanks for sending it

  • Dr. Scherma has written beautifully and touchingly. Oh how we all need those three magic words.”I LOVE YOU” ! Thanks Dr.

  • MARIA says:

    I loved this story ! I know exactly the tempo, the feelings, the noise , the sounds and the smells of each day at Sadie’s house….the were all unique and yet so familiar.. these women of “then”. Wonderful and poignant story.

  • Arne says:

    Very interesting story. I guess Beryl was there and enjoyed the exchange! No family communication happened in our family. Each observer has there own story from theist individual perspective.

  • Beryl says:

    Touching, so believable and charming. To know at any point in time that one is truly loved by their parents is a gift for all. And what a wonderful, kind and caring son you turned out to be.

  • Jessica says:

    Sadie is fabulous. What a character. This is one Thanksgiving I will not forget. Congrats on a terrific story, Bob!

  • Yolande says:

    Lovely story. Wonderful, lively dialogue. Great read, thanks!

  • Sissy says:

    I wish I had met your Mom. What a great story!

  • As a friend of Bob’s I got invited to some of these bashes and Bob doesn’t exaggerate the outrageousness of his family, Sadie especially. I felt lucky to be invited to Christmas at Gloria’s and getting to be part of the carryings on. Believe me Sadie wasn’t the only character in this family. Bob’s family was quintesentially Brooklyn Italian, riotously funny, and close in a way I always envied.

  • Patricia says:

    Wonderful timeless story.

  • Joe says:

    Great story. I really enjoyed reading it. I don’t feel my family was so different after all.

  • Cynthia says:

    I’ve always enjoyed hearing stories about Bob’s family, especially his mother, Sadie. Bob’s tells this story (and others) with such honesty, poignancy and also, hilarity. There are many more stories to tell, let’s hope that Bob keeps writing.

  • Annette says:

    oh yes: my mother’s name was Sadie; I was the baby who wasn’t wanted ; but in our house, we wouldn’t have talked it out! I’m sure she felt guilty tho’: we’re Jewish! But Sadie loved me afterall……afterall, I was her baby!
    When I tell my therapist about this, I will save a lot of money and time! Thanks, Bob!
    More wonderful stories about Sadie, please: I want to compare notes!
    Keep ’em coming, Bob…I know there are more tales to tell and I want to know them all!

  • cindy says:

    . . . if only . . .

  • Janet says:

    What a richly enjoyable loving story. It brought a smile on my face and tears to my eyes.

  • ZELL says:

    Such a timely piece.
    It speaks to the talked about ,revisited issue of our day…abortion…
    couched in Bob Scherma’s warm family vignette.
    Politically poingant.
    Sadie is rare, raw & disarmingly honest.
    It would have been a joy to have had her voice added to all the strong women
    at the Democratic Convention.

  • Helene Oelerich says:

    Bob’s story is heartfelt and real. I love the way he describes his family. It makes me feel as if I am there and eating with them all.
    My husvand’s father walked out of the hospital after he was born shouting…”Shit…I wanted to have a girl!”
    He appreciated your story.
    Congratulations…let’s hear more!!

  • Beata says:

    The photograph of Sadie set this wonderful story up, I could picture the dynamics so much better.

    It is a wonderful read and so interesting to me being an only child with parents who very much
    showed their love. And a bit envious with all the interaction around the table.

    That the truth came out as to how they felt about Bob is so poignant and it really represents
    the era and how we picture Italian families. Charming and funny piece.


  • Krystyne says:

    Sadie was my grandmother and Bob is my Uncle. Uncle Bob is my father Ted’s youngest brother.

    As a granddaughter and niece, it was magical growing up in my family!! I miss all who are not with us always and especially during the holidays. We got together for every and any holiday, just to be together and enjoy our time as a family. Having my Uncle Bob in my life has been one of my greatest blessings. Anyone who knows him knows what I am taking about!! Im so grateful my grandmother Sadie’s attempts to abort Bob we never successful. This world is a better place with Bob, Uncle Bob, Dr. Bob in it. Uncle Bob I love you with all my heart!!

  • Michael Molly says:

    Mr Sherma’ s story is so real. It is also so well written that it transports me back to 1979 ethnic New York City. Sadie is quite a character. Something tell me this story is the tip of the iceberg. I would love to read some more about her and the family.


  • Jim Callan says:

    Thanks. You brought so many memorable characters to life for the readers. Very rich, easy to picture and imagine.

    Thanks for sharing this.

  • Sondra says:

    What a fabulous story! I could picture this family sitting around in this crazy conversation – the characters were portrayed vividly and the scene set well. Sadie is hysterical and lovable (as is the narrator). What an almost tragic then heartwarming story of family love. Thanks for sharing!

  • Joann says:

    This a beautiful story and I am not surprised because it was written by my Latin teacher who was the best teacher I ever had. He was witty, interesting and treated us like we mattered; oh yeah, and he had a kickin’ Porsche. God Bless Mr. Scherma. God Bless.

  • Carole says:

    I’m a half-Italian American from Brooklyn who came upon this story and found it very touching, heartfelt, relatable, and poignant. When I realized it was written by my Latin teacher from Fort Hamilton (1969- 1970), it was a joyfully overwhelming feeling. Mr. Scherma was by far THE BEST teacher anyone could have. To this day, when discussing education, I bring up Mr. Scherma’s name and say if others taught as he did, we’d never have a drop out. Mr. Scherma, you have often been thought about over the years. Thank you from my heart, for your passion and creativity. To this day, I still find myself humming to the beat of The Beatles’ song, Michelle, “amo, amas, amat, amamus…..”

  • Betty says:

    Mr Scherma was also my Latin teacher 71-74 FHHS!
    Thank you , Carole, for reminding how he taught us Latin singing the Beatles et al. He made it so fun and easy. Because I did so well in Latin , I majored in Italian and Art History. What a special human being that some of us were blessed to have known. He understood us.

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