Joyce Nierenberg loved listening to Johnny Cash. On Vinyl and CDs. She loved cats, and dogs, and feeding raccoons outside our house in Defiance, Missouri. She loved the city of Chicago, where she and her husband, Fred, were born and got married. She loved hummingbirds and people gave her figurines of them for every birthday and holiday. She really liked margaritas, white wine, and bad junk food, like 1970s-style real junk food. The good stuff.
My mom loved me. And she loved my husband, Bill, and his kids like they were own grandchildren. She gave thoughtful gifts for holidays and loved decorating for Christmas.
She liked telling stories of when she worked for the steamship line in Chicago and how when my dad met her, he loved her hands. They eloped. She was Christian, he was Jewish. They made everyone angry. He left her way too soon. They were just getting into their groove with me out of the house after college.
She loved her Grandma Effie and Uncle Ludy. They protected her when she was a child as much as they could.
She loved reminding me when I was little that girls could do anything and was excited that I did exactly what I wanted to do. I wouldn’t be anything without her.
She loved her ladies who lunch group and was the one who kept them all organized. She loved nice perfume and wearing turquoise and pink. So much turquoise. Her closet is filled with at least a dozen turquoise shirts.
She loved books and watching weird treasure hunting shows on her kindle. She was quirky and full of information, a lot of trivia and history of our family that I wish I could remember now. It was important to her that I know about being both Jewish and Christian. And watching TV with her as a kid, she would point out all the half-Jews, so I knew that it was a good thing to be.
She didn’t suffer fools gladly and always stuck up for me. She taught me to march to my own drummer, as she liked to say.
She kicked ass at Scrabble and crosswords. She would pickle and can anything that would fit in a jar.
She loved New Orleans and eating gumbo with big ol’ claws sticking out of the bowl with my dad on their honeymoon. She loved that I got married there and really loved my wedding. She always said that I threw a good wedding and a good funeral. I’m afraid I can’t do that this time.
Joyce appreciated a good garage sale and finding schlock. She loved to crochet and was super crafty, which is not a gene that translated to me.
She and I both love shoes. So many shoes. And when I wrote letters to her from when I was Peace Corps, I always signed off with “Shoes!” I have never been more loved than by her.
She talked about being in her early 20s, going cross-country with her best friend and then taking a cruise to Hawaii. The captain flirted with her and boys on the beach wanted to teach her to surf.
She had tremendous faith in God and knew that she would see all those who went before when she died.
I was so angry when she got sick. Angry at the diseases that took her and angry at her. I’m so sorry. I was scared. And I am afraid now, too, to live my life without her.
The woman was brave and smart—even though she never had the opportunity to go to college. Her life was hard from the beginning, and she did everything she could to make my life better than hers. I am not sure how I will go on without her, but she taught me to be strong. I will try to be more like her—sweet, mostly; funny, with a good chuckle; fierce, when it’s needed; full of love for those who deserve it; and generous in spirit and gifts. I love you, mommy.
Joyce Jeannine Nierenberg was born on February 18th, 1939. She died on March 6th, 2024.
