A new picture

It took a while to get it all together this year, but finally we have a new family photo!

We were up in Sharon for the weekend, a trip we squeezed in by driving just before each of the two storms. We made what turned out to be a wise list minute decision to leave New York on Thursday evening rather than risk being unable to drive due to snow on Friday. As predictions for the second storm were moving the onset earlier and earlier, we decided to get up very early this morning and head back to New York. There has only been a dusting here but they were predicting quite a bit of snow along the route from New York to Boston. So once again we have dodged the bullet, so to speak.

Under ordinary circumstances we would have just driven back yesterday. But we did not want to miss Maya’s first “piano party,” also known as a recital. This effort to perhaps decrease the fear of performing that many children and adults experience is touching, but I can say without doubt that Maya was not fooled. Simmie told us that she had a wonderful conversation with Maya on Sunday morning. Maya said that she would not make any mistakes because she practiced so well. Simmie asked her what she would do if she did make a mistake. They talked through the possibilities and she decided she would simply pick up where she left off and go on playing. She apparently did have a small glitch in her first piece, but not being familiar with it I did not catch it. She obviously handled it very well. Having played piano for many years and performed in many concerts, I can say that being able to bounce back from a glitch is at least as valuable as being able to play flawlessly, since no one is able to do the latter all of the time.

Four students performed, ranging from Maya through a young woman pursuing a master’s degree in music. Maya did beautifully. She was poised and calm, sat at the piano with perfect posture and hand position, and played three short pieces, the third a duet with her teacher. After the students performed, the teacher served light refreshments and then performed for those who wished to stay, which Simmie, Maya, and I did. Maya was watching very intently for the first few minutes before climbing into Simmie’s lap and falling asleep! She really does put all of her energy into her playing. Of course the nap may have also been the result of going to a sleepover party on Saturday night.

Wherever you are, stay safe and warm!

Love,

Rebecca

Free to speak at last

I have struggled to write these past couple of weeks. Each day, I ran a script in my head but when I sat down to write I could not seem to get the words to come. This new day of a new week of a new month seems an auspicious time to try.

Barry and I met on the first day of classes my freshman year (Barry’s sophomore year), outside of a Differential Equations class. Although we had some common friends and would run into each other occasionally, we did not start seeing each other until the spring, when I would come back to my dormitory room and wonder why this longish-haired guy in a flannel shirt seemed to always be sitting in front of my window.

By the time we left for our respective summers “at home,” his in New York City and mine in West Hartford, we were definitely a couple, and tried to see each other as often as we could, traveling back and forth on the bus or train between New York and West Hartford.

Barry’s mother ע"ה (may she rest in peace), and I got off to a rocky start. I still remember the first time I met her, at his parents’ lower Manhattan apartment on a high floor of a new building. I had awoken early and went to the living room to see the view and found his mother there. She started talking about Barry and told me how she imagined someday he would meet a nice girl across his laboratory bench and they would fall in love. What was I, chopped liver? Why did she think I was there? I took this to mean that she was not especially impressed with me. Only later did I realize that it had nothing to do with me, it had only to do with her little boy growing up and leaving home. So although she had said something that seemed a bit rude, it was more an expression of her being a mother than anything particularly objectionable about me.

It turned out I was probably correct. By the time we got married, and particularly once we had children, she seemed comfortable enough with me. Reflecting on this now, from the perspective of a mother-in-law, I understand how challenging it can be to navigate this territory with a grown “child” who you did not raise but you love because your child loves him or her. From that grown child’s perspective, she or he is more or less stuck with you, and there is no shortage of mother-in-law jokes that reflect this.

The years went by. Barry’s mother developed a very close relationship with our daughters as well as her other two granddaughters (children of Barry’s brother). Living in different places, the two sets of girls did not spend much time with each other growing up, but listening to what they shared at the funeral made me really appreciate what a nice and close relationship she had with them as well.

When I was diagnosed with CNS lymphoma almost 4 years ago (yes, it really has been that long), Barry and his brother decided that it would be best if their mother did not know. There were a number of reasons, and at the time it seemed the right course. Perhaps because I was not in the habit of going to see her often, she fortunately did not seem to notice that there was a long gap between my visits; I don’t think I saw her until close to a year after the diagnosis.

As most of you know, the disease and treatment left me at about 2/3 my pre-cancer weight, and most people seeing me for the first time looked noticeably shaken by it. I knew my mother-in-law’s eyesight was getting worse, but it was clear she could still see well enough to have noticed. So before my first post-treatment visit Barry had asked me to just tell her I had been dieting. But Barry’s mother, for whom a change in weight was always the first thing she noticed about any of us, did not say a word, not to me, not to Barry, not to the girls. For as long as I knew her, she commented openly on weight gains, perhaps not to the subject directly but to other relatives. How odd for me to be insulted that she did not comment about a weight loss!

The months and years continued, and because her eyesight continued to fail I never expected her to notice after that, and she did not. Still, I wanted to tell her about what had happened, largely because of the unbelievably loving care her son had given me during those darkest hours and since. I never had a chance to do that.

I know many of you reading this will think or say “if she didn’t know then, she definitely knows now.” I am not sure what I believe happens when we are gone, and it is hard to imagine that there isn’t something left of each of us out there. Still, I am sorry I did not push harder to tell her.

I want to express my deepest appreciation to the Rabbinic Team at Hebrew Institute of Riverdale:

Rav Steven, with far too little sleep you were kind, patient, and knowledgeable as you walked us through and made it happen

Rabba Anat, for your comforting presence and amazingly kind words

Rav Avi, thank you for taking time from your winter break to spend with us

We were supposed to have left for St. John yesterday. When all this started a number of weeks ago, we decided to cancel our trip. I guess we will finally find out just how well trip insurance works. And on a very bright side, we will not miss our Maya performing for the first time in a small recital this coming Sunday. Let’s just hope the weather holds out to let us go!

Love,

Rebecca

Some very interesting films

The short films that are nominated for Oscars in the category of “Best Animated Shorts” are showing now at the IFC Film Center in New York. Most years we read a list of the winners without having seen these films. I got hooked on this when we were in Montreal last year and spent the better part of an afternoon watching short films at a museum there. The wonderful thing about New York is that, if you pay attention, sooner or later you can find anything here.

Director Sanjay Patel's Sanjay's Super Team (U.S.) is a delightful tale of a young Indian boy who longs to watch his favorite superheroes on TV but is pulled away by his devout father who wants him to participate in morning prayers. Although at first sullenly resistant, the boy eventually uses his imagination to channel the Hindu gods into his fantasized adventures. The end is charming, and the inclusion of then and now photos of the two characters' real-life inspirations is a nice touch.

We Can't Live Without the Cosmos (Russia), is Konstantin Bronzit's effort about two best friends who undergo training to become cosmonauts. Inseparable from early childhood, they breeze through the training, with luck of the draw determining which will be sent on a mission first. While the ending is not a typically happy one, it proves surprisingly moving by the end.

Gabriel Osorio's Bear Story (Chile) is a haunting if narratively opaque fable about a sad, elderly bear who treks every day to a street corner where he exhibits a mechanical diorama. For the price of a coin, passersby can peer inside and witness the story of a bear who longs to return to his family after being taken captive by a traveling circus. It does not take long to realize that the story being presented in the diorama is the presenter’s own.

The World of Tomorrow (U.S.), directed by Don Hertzfeld, features stick-figure characters and abstract backgrounds in its convoluted sci-fi tale of a little girl given a tour of the future by a third-generation clone of herself who delivers numbing, existential observations about the intermingling of humanity and technology.

About midway through the program, the screen noted that the final film was not suitable for children, and suggested that people who had brought young children might want to leave the theater before this last film was shown. Prologue (U.S.) directed by Richard Williams (Who Framed Roger Rabbit), is a six-minute exercise in brutality in which a frightened little girl watches a quartet of Spartan and Athenian soldiers engage in a battle to the death. Featuring animated full-frontal male nudity and extreme red-drenched gore (against the black and white drawings), I suppose it could be said that it is visually captivating. But its reason for being included in this otherwise impressive group of films, or its reason for being made at all, is a mystery to me.

Have a good week.

Love,

Rebecca

Take it Easy

We woke this morning to the news that guitarist/singer/songwriter Glenn Frye, most well known as a member of The Eagles, died at age 67 of complications from rheumatoid arthritis, acute ulcerative colitis and pneumonia. The band was supposed to have been a recipient of the 38^th annual Kennedy Center Honors along with Carole King, George Lucas, Rita Moreno, Seiji Ozawa, and Cicely Tyson a couple of weeks ago, but The Eagles induction had been postponed due to Mr. Frye’s failing health.

The last time we saw the Eagles was on the 10^th of November 2013 at Madison Square Garden. After the concert, I wrote:

But, like they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! And the music that brought the Eagles to fame back in the 1970s is still, to quote one of their songs, “the best of their love.” We are left with that peaceful, easy feeling.

I am glad we had a chance to see them that one last time.

Love,

Rebecca

Special Relationships

Both of our daughters spoke movingly at their grandmother’s funeral last week. Because the ceremony was less than 24 hours after she left this world, they spoke from brief notes they had time to scribble on their way to New York. But now they have both written what they shared, and I include their words here.

20 years ago, I arrived as a Freshman at Boston University.  The day I arrived at my dorm room, my parents had a lot of advice for me.  My mom tried to make my bed a certain way (to which I said, “No thanks, Mom, I can make my own bed”).  They wanted me to play the Crosby, Stills, and Nash CD that everyone was listening to when they arrived at college (I nixed that too, and put on the most recent Dave Matthews Band CD).  They did, however, give me one piece of advice that I took.  They suggested that I call my Sabba and Savta once a week to say hello.  That was a piece of advice that I took, and took to heart.  I called them every Friday all through college.  We would talk about all kinds of things, and as much as I asked them about their life in New York, it became clear to me that Savta was more interested in hearing about my life than in telling me about hers.  I also learned that she was very attune to noises she heard coming over the phone line, so even in the busy dorm rooms, I worked to find a quiet space in which to speak to her.  I did not always speak to her at the same time every Friday—a semester with an early class meant that I would call her later in the day; while a later class schedule had me calling her after breakfast.  But I always kept calling.

I had many other connections to Savta over the years.  I took a class called Folklore and Folklife where the final assignment was to interview an older relative about their past.  I came to NY over a series of school vacations and interviewed Savta.  We sat there with a tape recorder and a blank cassette deck and she told me all about her life, about growing up with her sisters in Poland, coming here on the boat, and then about her adult life in Virginia and NY. 

I also connected her through my trips to NY.  My family and I travel frequently to NY to see both my parents and my in-laws and we would try to stop at her apartment in Riverdale to see her during those trips.  On one memorable week-long visit to my parents’ house Riverdale when my older daughter Eliana was about a year old, I put her in the stroller every morning and walked down the block to visit with Savta.  Eliana would sit and play with the Russian Doll set that all of the grandchildren have loved, and Savta and I would talk. 

Through all those years, I kept calling.  Savta loved to hear about my kids and the things that they did as they grew.

My family spent this past Thanksgiving weekend in NY.  At that point, she was not doing well, and I learned that her best time of day to talk was in the morning.  I took my family to visit Savta the morning after Thanksgiving.  She listened to my younger daughter Maya play the piano, and to my older daughter Eliana talk her ear off.  I am glad that we had that time together.

Even though I knew that the best time to call her was in the morning, with a busy teaching schedule that is not so easy.  I was happy to have off from work on Friday, December 25 so that I could call her after breakfast when I thought she would probably be awake.  We were able to talk that day, and I will be forever grateful that we spoke, because it was the last time we did. 

It does not escape my notice that today is Friday, and that’s our day to talk.  We always ended our calls by saying “I love you, Shabbat Shalom”.  Savta, I say to you today, “I love you, Shabbat Shalom.”

I will always think of my Savta on Fridays.

Simmie Hefetz

Savta’s granddaughter

One of my fondest memories of my Savta is that she used to tell us that she sat next to Donald Trump's mother in the beauty parlor.  I didn't know if this was actually true, or who Donald Trump really was, but she told this story many times over.  And even when she took me to Manhattan and we stood in front of Trump Tower on 5th Avenue, it still didn't seem to resonate.  Fast forward to today and Donald Trump is all over the news.  And my 9 year old daughter, Ella, is learning about the elections in school and can quote more from the debates and the news than her parents.  So I shared the story with her, that Savta used to sit next to his mom in the beauty parlor.  Finally, the reaction Savta was looking for!

As a girl, I remember visiting my Savta in NY.  She would take me for new dresses at Young World and boiled hot dogs at Burger Nosh.  But some of my best memories are just hanging out in their apartment.  As a little girl coming from the suburbs, I thought their apartment building was majestic.  There was a lobby and you had to go on an elevator just to get to the front door!  The labyrinth one had to walk through to get to the car left me mesmerized.  I loved how I could stand in the middle of the apartment and call "Savta" and she'd hear me.  Why would anyone want to live in a big house in the suburbs when the tiny apartment in Queens was so glamorous and convenient?

My grandmother was truly young at heart and a romantic.  As newlyweds, Aaron and I were visiting NY and took my Savta out to dinner.  After taking just a tiny sip from the wine on the table, she became giddy.  Completely drunk on the idea of getting dressed up and having dinner in the city brought her such joy.

One of the main things I learned from my Savta is the valuable relationship between sisters and cousins.  My Savta was the oldest of 3 girls and their cousin was like a 4th sister.  They talked, laughed, bickered, and kvetched about each other, in a way that only sisters who are really close can understand.   I see the relationship I have developed with my sister.  I see my daughters and their cousins - who are all being raised like siblings for better or worse!  And I know that this is truly her teachings and her legacy continuing on.

I will miss my Savta terribly.  But I know that she is together with the love of her life, my Sabba.  And the love I feel from my original immediate family and my current immediate family will carry us through.

Dina Saks

Savta’s granddaughter

Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, an American federal holiday marking the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is observed on the third Monday of January each year, which is around Dr. King's birthday, January 15. Two acapella groups, The Maccabeats and Naturally 7, have just released a joint version of James Taylor’s 1991 “Shed a Little Light,” an inspiring piece for this day. This one is guaranteed to bring tears of hope and love.

Love,

Rebecca

Solemn note

It has been a difficult week: Barry’s mother died last night. In keeping with the Jewish tradition to expedite the transition to the final resting place, we were able to arrange for the funeral to be early this afternoon.

She was over 94 years old, most of them fairly healthy, and lived to see five great-grandchildren. She had suffered a stroke about two weeks ago that left her unable to communicate or eat or drink even small amounts. She had always been clear that she did not want to live this way, so unlike the deaths of younger friends over the past couple of years, in this case I can truly say “blessed is the righteous judge.”

As I sit here waiting for our daughters and Barry’s brother and his two daughters to arrive, I cannot help but think how seldom all of us are together, and to try to see something positive in everyone gathering to share and process this loss in our lives.

Love,

Rebecca

A Fun Five Days

Sorry for the delay. Disney World is exhausting! We spent one day at each park and had a wonderful time. These pictures pretty much say it all.

True to everyone’s predictions, it was incredibly crowded. Early afternoon of each day, there was an announcement in all of the parks that the Magic Kingdom was closed to new arrivals. Navigating the scooter through those crowds was a challenge, since even at the happiest place in the world it would not be fun for someone to have their toes under one of those wheels. On a number of occasions, Barry and Eliana were walking ahead of me and then at some point I couldn’t see them. Once we even resorted to using our cell phones to find each other.

We spent Sunday in transit, at the grocery store, and getting settled at the hotel. On Monday we headed for The Magic Kingdom, where the highlights were Buzz  Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin, Peter Pan’s Flight, It’s a Small World, Tomorrowland Speedway, and Pirates of the Caribbean. Barry and I were a bit nervous about that last one, because I seemed to recall from having done it years ago that there was a rather steep drop at some point; fortunately it turned out to be less dramatic than I remembered. What we should have passed on was Tomorrowland Speedway. The cars only fit two people, so my macho side took over and I offered to drive alone. Turns out those little cars are not so easy to drive, and the route is much longer than I expected. I needed a brief break to rejuvenate me when it was over.

We went to EPCOT (Environmental Prototype Community of Tomorrow) on Tuesday. We went on Spaceship Earth, Living with the Land, Turtle Talk with Crush, and Soarin’, which remains my favorite ride by far.

Wednesday was spent at Animal Kingdom, where the main rides were Finding Nemo, Killimanjaro Safari, and the Kali River Rapids. Fortunately the weather was unusually warm for late December, because we had not brought rain slickers to the park and we were completely drenched on the ride. If it had not been over 80° I don’t think it would have been so much fun.

Thursday was our last day, and we spent it at Hollywood Studios, where the highlights were The Great Movie Ride, Lights, Motor, and Action Stunt Show, and Toy Story Mania. That last one is really a blast! We had planned to do it twice, but unfortunately it was out of order for part of the morning, so that by afternoon even the Fast Pass tickets involved a substantial wait in line.

Our plans and preparations for food went well. Eliana had cereal for breakfast, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, lots of fruit, and a substantial dinner each night. Before the trip, Barry had barbequed steaks, burgers, and hot dogs and then frozen them. Our suite had a small microwave in which we heated them for her, and although there were other options, steak and either a hot dog or a hamburger was what she wanted every night for dinner. Since we always grossly overbuy and prepare for these trips, we had plenty for her to eat.

We had our own “Small World” story while at the park. On the first day, we ran into a woman who we often see at the Shaw’s Supermarket in Sharon. Somehow over the last few years we have chatted enough to discover that she has a relative who does medical research. Imagine our surprise on meeting her in the middle of those throngs of people far away from either of our homes. Actually we saw her in duplicate because she was travelling with a twin sister we never knew she had. But it gets better. We ended up seeing the two of them each of the four days. What is the chance that she and her sister would select the same parks to visit as we and that we would cross paths in these unbelievably busy places? You do not have to be a statistician to know that this probability is definitely £e!

We arrived back in Sharon just in time to say “Happy New Year.” May you all be blessed with a healthy and productive year!

Love,

Rebecca