On legal documents and to most everyone who knows her, my mom is Jan Tuchinsky. But more and more — as incredulity turned to acceptance, then a measure of pride — her neighbors know the nickname I gave her: La Cucaracha, or The Cockroach.

Yes, you read that right: I equate my mother to a bug widely considered a pest … and mean it as a compliment.

Had I come up with it as a teen, I would have meant The Cockroach as a pejorative. Adolescents clash with adults (and peers, come to think of it). Mom wasn’t a laissez faire kind of parent; even working full time, she paid careful attention to my younger sister and me.

Now, La Cucaracha (drawn from the Mexican folk song I sang in nursery school) is a term of endearment and appreciation, albeit in a strange way.

You’ve likely heard at least a variation on the saying “cockroach beats nuclear bomb” — idea being, should humans use our most powerful weaponry in war, the only creatures scurrying away will be this hardy breed of insect.

And, just maybe, my mother.

Mom was born early in World War II. Her parents had medical issues, some of which I inherited, but she’s as healthy as a horse. (Maybe I should call her Ma Mare…) She almost never catches a cold, never got the flu and, despite three known exposures, did not contract COVID.

Mom dances. She does Zumba and water aerobics. She walks her dog, Watson, multiple times a day, rain or shine, along different loops through her community.

She laments that “I’m not as sharp as I used to be” yet reads multiple newspapers a day (this one included, online), devotes each Sunday to completing three crossword puzzles and takes myriad classes through the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute.

OLLI is just one organization for which she volunteers. As a retired CFO, she’s a popular choice for groups with a finance committee, a treasurer or both. Slowly but surely, she’s learned to pass the buck.

Mom has no plans to surrender her place on the marketing committee of her continuing care retirement community. She chose the CCRC in the event she needs more support than she gets in her cottage. With zeal, she looks to bring in new residents to match her energy — that is, younger seniors, at least a decade her junior, which whom she can dance, do Zumba and water aerobics, go to basketball games and concerts … you name it.

I envy her spirit and her stamina. I’ve followed her lead, and that of my uncle (her brother) and my late paternal grandmother, in serving my community. Mom appreciates my journalism work, though may be an even bigger fan of Kyra Gottesman’s Off the Record column than my City Insider. Moreso, she tells me, she’s proud of the impact I try to make through local government and volunteerism.I wish I had more than half her genes. I’m less cockroach than cockatiel. On the rare occasion she mentions a health complaint, I think how fortunate she and our family are — that we’re talking aches and pains, not life-threatening conditions.

As I heard throughout my childhood on one of her favorite shows: “Live long and prosper.” Or, put another way: “Viva La Cucaracha!”