Growing up, my mother and I had an amazing relationship and a bond of friendship that held strong until her death in 2010, at age 94.
Born Domenica, at some point in life, she came to be called Mae — a nickname that would stick throughout her long life.
Mae was an extraordinary woman; all who knew her would agree. When asked for advice, which she was often, no one doubted her thoughtful, intelligent answers. A no-nonsense gal who did not suffer fools, she was progressive, had a great sense of humor and an uncanny eye for beauty. Like me, she adored traveling, be it discovering new lands or a simple Sunday drive.
In 1961, I joined the U.S. Air Force, and, when the tedious ritual of basic training was…
