“Momma’s Boy,” A Son’s Tribute to Seinfeld’s Favorite TV Mom.

When the phone rang that morning, I panicked. Sure enough, it was the caregiver. He told me, “You better get down here NOW!” I got into my car and started down Hwy 62 to Palm Desert, and I started to cry. It was time to say goodbye. I didn’t know if I could do this thing called life without her by my side. I gazed out at the magnificent vista of the desert surrounding me, and I prayed for her. She was my best friend, my confidante, my Mom. When I got to her bedside, she was sleeping. I stroked her cheek. She was so fragile, so small. She looked like a ghost. I let her know that I was there with her, and I was not going anywhere, like she was always there for me.

Once, when I was a young kid, she sent me to school dressed up in a sailor suit. I did look cute, but I came home in tears because they made fun of me; they told me I looked stupid. She assured me, “There is nothing wrong with being different. Don’t ever let them get you down.” And in that moment, I believed her.

But as I grew up, I was frequently ostracized, criticized, and brutalized for being “different”. I suffered from that daunting sense of aloneness, never knowing where I belonged and always feeling like I never fit in. “Queer.” “Dirty Jew.” “Fat pig.” “F…ing faggot.” “Why don’t you just disappear or die, Momma’s Boy?”

In junior high, a couple of these bastards beat me up badly in the gym locker room and humiliated me in front of everyone. No one came to my defense. After throwing me around like a rag doll, they left me there all alone. I just wanted my Momma. I was hurting like never before, both physically and emotionally. When I got home, my mom took care of me, once again. “Those assholes should go f… themselves”, she told me. She consoled me and promised me that one day I would be happy, and that one day I would be free from the torment and hate. I wanted to believe her. But I didn’t think the hurting would ever stop.

I turned to drugs and alcohol for relief — it worked, and I couldn’t get enough of it. That crazy hedonist lifestyle kept me going for a really long time. I finally found my people, my community, and for the first time ever, I felt attractive and accepted. Then I found Palm Springs which became my getaway to “check out” and further fuel my addictions, and I loved it. Through the purple haze, I always knew I would end up in the desert one day. But not yet.

So the party and the stupor kept going, harder and harder, and I lived that life for quite a few years…. Until it all stopped. I was getting more and more isolated, I became morally bankrupt, and my body started breaking down. The doctors told me I will probably not live another year, and I believed them. I was face to face with my mortality, and my morality. Everything was crashing and burning around me, and inside me. Something had to change.

Once again, my mom stepped in. “Hell no, not under my watch.” She nurtured me, loved me, and gave me the strength and courage I needed to get back up and fight for my life… to fight like never before. “Goddamn it, you can do this,” she said. Thank God, I believed her.

It was really rough, but I finally got clean and sober. I vowed to stay on that path no matter what because I really did want to live. I began to get better. I found drive and purpose. My career started to take off. Mom was also achieving incredible success as an actress. We started living the “good life” in Hollywood, and we were there for each other through it all. Her promises of a better life were coming true.

Then one day there was a scathing and slanderous front-page article in the tabloids all about me, for everyone to see while in line at the market. Being the son of a celebrity made me fair game. The phone calls started pouring in. I was too afraid to leave the house. I was sure this could ruin me or screw up my mom’s career. I couldn’t deal with it, and it felt like the gig was up. But then Mom, God bless her, sat me down and told me, “Don’t you worry about me; I’ll be fine. And you – here’s the good news….” Good news, I thought? How can any good come from this? Her fierce hazel eyes glowed as she looked me deep in the eyes. “Glen, you now have no more secrets. NO ONE CAN EVER HURT YOU AGAIN.” And you know what, she was right.

For years, we had homes in LA and in Palm Springs, and we did enjoy the best of both worlds. But nothing beat the majestic beauty of the desert or it’s tranquility…. and dare I say, the casinos?

In this desert, I found my true love, Tom, and we started to build our life together out here. But soon, my mom’s health began to fail, and her dementia was setting in. It was tough – really tough – as we helplessly watched her beauty, sensibilities, and dignity being stripped away. Tom was MY strength during those years of sadness and grief. He was also there for Mom 100%, to love on her and be with her. Together we made sure her final years were as comfortable and safe as possible.

As her sun was setting, I lay with her and held her for hours. She was struggling. She seized and moaned, and I let her know again and again I was there, and it was OK. I hummed her favorite songs (he loved show tunes). I told her how much I loved her. I cried. I cried, and I remembered… everything: her love of movies and theatre, how she taught me to cook, how to throw a party, her passion, her zeal for life, her laughter, and her voice – oh that voice! The voice that taught me, “No matter what else is going on in your life, you can always afford to be kind and caring.” The voice that always built me up and insisted, “Don’t ever let them discourage you, or bring you down.” The voice that always told me, “I’m so proud of you.”

In that moment I realized that I had been loved every day of my life.

As she took her final breaths, I told her I was happy like she always promised me I would be. “Your boy is good now, Momma…please, it’s time for you to be at peace.” And then, she was gone. I miss her every day, but her spirit still lives in me. She is forever here in the desert and my desert is her. I sense her everywhere around me. She is my brightest star in the sky above. I see her in the morning sun, and when the day is over, I look at the moon and I see her too. And now, I get to share the courage, hope, love, and laughter she gave me. Here in this odd, quirky, magical, wild, and wonderful place called Joshua Tree, I am truly living my best life. And all of us are surrounded and forever embraced, by her eternal and mystical love.  Believe me.

Publisher’s note: Glen’s wonderful mama was American actress and comedian, Estelle Harris, known for her exaggerated shrill, grating voice, and incredible comedic timing. After years in the film and television industry, she made TV history as George Costanza’s mother on “Seinfeld.” She went on to voice Mrs. Potato Head in the Toy Story franchise and played the recurring character, Muriel, in the Disney Channel sitcom, “The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.” Born in Hell’s Kitchen, NYNY, to Jewish immigrants, she lived to be 93 years old.