THOSE YUMMY BUTCHER BONES — Sharon Mark Cohen, MPA, UN Representative for IHAN

Reading a Facebook post about boiling soup from butcher bones made me drool. My mother made the best soups and saved the bones for my father and me to suck the marrow and enjoy a taste of the soup resting on the surface of the bones.

Whether mushroom-barley, pea, or any other variety of hearty soup, we always asked for the bones. I recall sprinkling them with salt before savoring their yummy taste.

Now for the story I read on Facebook:

“Unsolved Mysteries & Natural Wonder Facts ·

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“Her name was Bryna, and she came from a small village in the Mogilev region of the Russian Empire, in what is now Belarus.

“In her youth, she was engaged to a man named Herschel, who left for America with promises and dreams. A year later, he sent money for her passage. In those days before visa requirements, she boarded a ship to join him, carrying nothing but hope for a better life.

“They married and settled in Amsterdam, New York—not the glamorous city, but a small mill town. Bryna gave Herschel seven children: six daughters and finally, a son. They named him Issur, though everyone called him Izzy.

“But the American dream turned into an American nightmare.

“Herschel, who had been a horse trader in Russia, became a ragman in America—collecting junk and scraps to sell. What little money he made, he spent on alcohol and gambling with his friends. He was known throughout the neighborhood as a troublemaker and a bully. Worse still, he was cruel at home—so cold that he never once called his wife by her name. He addressed her only as ‘Hey, you!’

“The family lived in crushing poverty. Bryna, who couldn't read or write, worked her fingers raw taking in laundry and doing whatever jobs she could find. But it was never enough. The children often went hungry.

“She would send young Izzy to the Jewish butcher with a simple request: ‘Please, give me the bones you don't need anymore.’ She would take those discarded bones and boil them for hours, making a thin soup that kept her family alive for days.

“Years later, her son—by then known as Kirk Douglas—remembered those days: ‘When it was a good day, we would eat omelettes made with water. When it was a bad day, we wouldn't eat at all.’

“But Bryna never gave up. She held her family together through sheer force of will. And she believed in her son with a fierceness that defied their circumstances. When Izzy talked about becoming an actor—a ridiculous dream for a poor kid from a ragman's family—she encouraged him.

“Issur Demsky left that small town and became Kirk Douglas. He became a Hollywood legend, starring in classics like ‘Spartacus,’ ‘Paths of Glory,’ and ‘Lust for Life.’ But he never forgot where he came from. And he never forgot who made it possible.

“In 1949, when Kirk formed his own film production company, he gave it a name: Bryna Productions. Not after himself. After his mother.

“In 1958, Bryna Productions released ‘The Vikings,’ an epic film starring Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis. It was one of the year's biggest movies. And Kirk decided his mother needed to see something.

“He took her by the arm and led her to Times Square in New York City. Among the flashing lights and enormous advertisements, he showed her a massive movie poster:

"‘BRYNA PRESENTS THE VIKINGS’

“Her name. The woman who couldn't read. The woman who boiled bones for soup. The woman who was called ‘Hey, you!’ by her own husband. Her name was on a billboard in Times Square.

“Bryna Demsky burst into tears. Perhaps the first tears of pure joy she'd ever cried in her difficult life.

“That December, just months after seeing her name in lights, Bryna passed away at age 74. Kirk was with her until the very end. Her last words to him were simple and loving:

"‘Izzy, son, don't be afraid. This happens to everyone.’

Even in death, she was still trying to comfort him.

“Kirk Douglas lived to be 103 years old. He became one of Hollywood's greatest stars, a producer, a philanthropist, and the father of actor Michael Douglas. But until his death in 2020, he always said the same thing: everything he achieved was because of his mother.

“The woman who couldn't write her own name gave the world a legend. The woman who had nothing gave her son everything. And the son who became a star made sure the world would remember her name.

“Every film that bore the title ‘A Bryna Production’ was a love letter from a grateful son to the mother who believed in him when he had nothing but dreams.

She deserved to see her name in lights. And her son made sure she did.”

I never got to show my mother her name in lights, but I sure do remember sucking on those yummy marrow bones in the scrumptious soups she prepared regularly. Maybe she and Bryna are discussing that now.

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In my book, Kitchen Talk, which I am preparing to self-publish, I wrote about those soups my mother made with the delicious marrow bones, and more about my mother’s cooking. I even shared a recipe or two. While her name may not be in lights, the depths of her mothering shall one day be available for purchase.