I’m guessing this is what my mother (of blessed memory) would comment on my blog.

Hi, darling!  [said with a thrill that only a mother could have in corresponding with her child]:

Please be careful. There are crazies out there who might be reading your blog. So, I called the Secret Service. They are so efficient; the person who answered knew exactly who I was. Technology is SO marvelous. I asked for protection for you. The agent wasn’t sure, so I called the White House and they said that I looked marvelous at the last march on the Mall. Who knew? I wasn’t feeling great that day, chemo and all, so it must have been my new wig. Thank Goodness your father was there. He takes such good care of me. When I went over to talk to anti-abortion people, they were very nasty and your father stepped in. My ovaries haven’t worked in decades, so why couldn’t they have a civil conversation on a theoretical level? Which proves my point about protection for you.

Your sister came along on the march as my physician. (Isn’t it a MUST to have a health care professional in the family?  Don’t worry, I remember how you helped get me a $200 rebate so paying for law school was worth it.)  Having a travelling doctor IS the new accessory for us old people. I have Dad and your sister. Let the Secret Service top that for Obama. By the way, isn’t he handsome? So smart, so funny, such a leader. If only he were Jewish and not married, he would be perfect for your sister if she weren’t already happily married to a wonderful man (I am not schlepping in Central Park to look at birds).  After all of these years of keeping an eye out for eligible men, it is hard to remember to stop looking now that she is married.  I forget things at my age, but I am always thrilled when I remember that she is, in fact, married.

You looked thin last week. Is there enough protein in your diet?

Well, off to chemo, then a gallery and then there’s a protest at One Police Plaza. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get arrested. I have your card in case I need a lawyer. One should get arrested for a good cause once in one’s life. But only for peaceful protests.

So, all right, Tootsie. See you for Sunday night dinner.

Love, Mom