It was the same Mother’s Day gift, year after year, for the lovely Henrietta Leitner.
Her son Ted would deliver a bright-red, oversized, heart-shaped box of chocolates, which she welcomed as much as her sportscaster son.
His mom would rip open the box, then tear into Leitner.
“I’m surprised all the pieces are still in it,” she would say, delivering a jab just below the heart, as in the ribs.
“It was our running gag for so many years,” he said. “That was wonderful, it was great. But Mother’s Day isn’t the same for me anymore.”
Mother’s Day arrives on Sunday, and with it, Leitner’s memories of his supportive mom wash over him.
Leitner recently announced that he’ll soon retire from a broadcasting career that has him on San Diego’s Mount Rushmore of anyone ever holding a microphone.
But what he grasps tighter are the recollections of his mother, who was known, with affection, as “Henny.”
“What a mountain of love,” he said.

She offset the volcano that was Leitner’s grumpy father, Murray. He was an ill-tempered and tortured soul, one who harassed his wife and three sons in a manner that was abusive and left emotional scars.
“I try not to tell people much about this,” Leitner said. “I didn’t talk about it or bring it up all those years on KFMB or anywhere, actually. I never got into it.”
He explored his dysfunctional family in “Ted Talks,” his compelling book published in 2022. Leitner wrote that his father constantly berated everyone crammed into their Bronx apartment.
In explaining his dad’s vitriol, Leitner exposed his mother’s virtues.
“I’ve had so many breaks in my life, professionally and personally,” Leitner, 76, said. “But my first break came from my mother because she was a perfectionist at loving me.”
In a home where Leitner’s self-esteem was attacked 24/7, his mother had his back around the clock.
“My dad was difficult and he would be yelling at us, putting us down, and she was our buffer,” he said. “She would say, ‘That’s enough, leave them alone.”’
Listeners are never a party of one with “Uncle Teddy” speaking. The gentleman who was the voice of San Diego sports for more than four decades will mark his 30th year on San Diego State hoops next season and then drop the mic.
What Leitner hasn’t let go of is something that happened in 1978, his first year in San Diego. His dear 70-year-old mother, likely battling Alzheimer’s, was in a nursing home in Hartford, Connecticut, and near the end of her incredible life.
“Those were horrible days for someone like her, as they are with anyone else who has Alzheimer’s,” he said. “They don’t deserve to live that way. Losing her like that, I just…”
Just before Leitner’s sports segment on the 11 p.m. news, Lew, his older brother, called to say their confused mother was fading. He encouraged Leitner to resist rushing back and instead remember the sweet persona she displayed when they were kids.
“That last red-eye flight had already left, but I was going to get on the first plane in the morning,” Leitner said. “My brother said, ‘No, no, we know how close you were to her and how sentimental you are about her. You don’t want to see this scene.’ While I didn’t know what that meant, I’m sure it was bad. With that, I didn’t go.
“I took the easy way out, and I have never forgiven myself for that. In the end, it’s something you have to do, and I didn’t do it and I’ve had to live with that.”

Leitner’s empathy is evident for others going through similar or tougher upbringings. He feels for children absorbing the daily derogatory barrage from a parent. He had a kindred spirit in Joe Torre, the former major league player and manager.
“Joe and I had several conversations about it,” Leitner said. “His dad was a New York City cop, and if Joe came home after school and saw his dad’s unmarked police car parked out front, he wouldn’t go inside because he knew he might be slapping his mother around.
“You commiserate with others, while knowing some kids had it much worse than I did with alcoholic parents and getting physical abuse.”
For Leitner, his shining light was Henny.
For Leitner, his refuge was a woman dominated by an overbearing man, high on testosterone and low on being a role model.
For Leitner, this Mother’s Day mimics the others since Henny’s passing, as he reflects on her kindness but also curses her fate.
“She never got to see me on TV and never heard me on the radio,” he said. “She never got to be proud of her son.”
Henny likely didn’t require the visuals of her son in a sharp suit in a studio, pontificating about this and that.
She knew he was as fond of her and her beloved pot roast as she was of him.
Leitner’s dedication in his book reveals the love story of an appreciative son and his thoughtful mother:
“To Henrietta Cohen Leitner, the first of many wonderful gifts I’ve been given in my life. As Paul Anka wrote: ‘If in death the good Lord is kind, you’ll be the last thing on my mind.’
“Rest in peace, Mom.”
Happy Mother’s Day, Mrs. Leitner. Here’s to you looking on from above while devouring chocolates sent with love from your son.