Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Bru's memories
I am lucky to say, that even though we grew up on the other side of the world I have a wealth of memories of Gam. Time spent at the shore on visits here or at the hotel and special restaurants on their visits to Israel. These two are some of my fondest:
When i was in first or second grade, Gam was visiting and came to walk us home from school. on the way, i kept running forward and she kept saying she can't keep up, so she asked me if i wanted to skip instead of running. i was embarressed, because i didn't know what skipping was, so Gam taught me 'skip to my lou' and how to skip to it, and we skipped all the way home together. to this day i cannot help thinking of her skipping along with me whenever i hear that song.
When i was nine, i came for my first visit alone. we spent a week down the shore, and Gam took me to the spa with her. i had never been to a spa before or been allowed in a jacuzzi. it was just such great girl time, i'll never forget it.
When i was in first or second grade, Gam was visiting and came to walk us home from school. on the way, i kept running forward and she kept saying she can't keep up, so she asked me if i wanted to skip instead of running. i was embarressed, because i didn't know what skipping was, so Gam taught me 'skip to my lou' and how to skip to it, and we skipped all the way home together. to this day i cannot help thinking of her skipping along with me whenever i hear that song.
When i was nine, i came for my first visit alone. we spent a week down the shore, and Gam took me to the spa with her. i had never been to a spa before or been allowed in a jacuzzi. it was just such great girl time, i'll never forget it.
Genia's memories
(written for Joan's first yahrzeit)
When I met Jay, he was all alone, and only talked about a very abstract (to me) family. Coming, as I am, from a family of holocaust survivors, I was not used to too much family. I had decided to spend the year before our marriage in the US, which meant having to ask for letters of support for the consulate (showing that I would have a place to stay and someone to feed me). Requesting these letters was my first direct contact with the family. Most of what I heard from Jay about Mom was how much he’d fight with her as a teenager. Mom, on the other hand, had the feeling (she’d told me years later) that I was a gold digger maneuvering her innocent child. She just couldn’t figure out where was this gold to come from. I arrived in the US a few weeks after Jay, and from the first second we just warmed up to each other. She and Dad (and Nan and Poppop, and all the other members of the family), just took me in, and made me feel that I have a family. It got to the point that when our wedding was getting put together, I’d asked her how did it feel to be the mother of the bride and groom simultaneously. That’s just how it felt to both of us. When we moved to Israel Jay kept complaining that the letters and presents were coming to Genia and ahhh, right, to Jay too (sometimes). Their first visit to Israel (my G-d, she was only half a year older than I am now!) was marked by the fact that I was very pregnant (with Rahel), and every hill that she had hard time coping with she kept saying: “if a pregnant woman can do it, so can I…” After that there was a visit a year, either Mom and Dad here, or us there. I especially remember walking into the house on a surprise visit in 1982, and seeing her perform a little dance with a dishtowel in her hand, and then crying for joy. I remember how happy she was with every new grandchild, even though she had thought it was enough for us (as parents).
We live here in a midst of many people who had made Aliya, and thus were physically separated from their families. But of all the distant grandparents we know, Mom and Dad were the only ones who regularly took a hotel room for three in order to have a different grandchild stay with them overnight and for breakfast (Dad would do that part). They were the only ones who made sure to spend time with each and every grandchild. They came to kindergarten parties and choir rehearsals. They came to all the Bat Mitzvahs, and helped us look for a new apartment. Just as Mom made sure that I had felt part of the family from day one, she also made sure we were not disconnected once we were far away, even though it was our choice to move. Mom also told us repeatedly that she thought we were doing a great job raising the kids because we lived in Israel. In other words she made us feel she approved of our choice, and while she would always have difficulty with our living so far away, she understood.
And for both of us, knowing that she understood was very important.
When I met Jay, he was all alone, and only talked about a very abstract (to me) family. Coming, as I am, from a family of holocaust survivors, I was not used to too much family. I had decided to spend the year before our marriage in the US, which meant having to ask for letters of support for the consulate (showing that I would have a place to stay and someone to feed me). Requesting these letters was my first direct contact with the family. Most of what I heard from Jay about Mom was how much he’d fight with her as a teenager. Mom, on the other hand, had the feeling (she’d told me years later) that I was a gold digger maneuvering her innocent child. She just couldn’t figure out where was this gold to come from. I arrived in the US a few weeks after Jay, and from the first second we just warmed up to each other. She and Dad (and Nan and Poppop, and all the other members of the family), just took me in, and made me feel that I have a family. It got to the point that when our wedding was getting put together, I’d asked her how did it feel to be the mother of the bride and groom simultaneously. That’s just how it felt to both of us. When we moved to Israel Jay kept complaining that the letters and presents were coming to Genia and ahhh, right, to Jay too (sometimes). Their first visit to Israel (my G-d, she was only half a year older than I am now!) was marked by the fact that I was very pregnant (with Rahel), and every hill that she had hard time coping with she kept saying: “if a pregnant woman can do it, so can I…” After that there was a visit a year, either Mom and Dad here, or us there. I especially remember walking into the house on a surprise visit in 1982, and seeing her perform a little dance with a dishtowel in her hand, and then crying for joy. I remember how happy she was with every new grandchild, even though she had thought it was enough for us (as parents).
We live here in a midst of many people who had made Aliya, and thus were physically separated from their families. But of all the distant grandparents we know, Mom and Dad were the only ones who regularly took a hotel room for three in order to have a different grandchild stay with them overnight and for breakfast (Dad would do that part). They were the only ones who made sure to spend time with each and every grandchild. They came to kindergarten parties and choir rehearsals. They came to all the Bat Mitzvahs, and helped us look for a new apartment. Just as Mom made sure that I had felt part of the family from day one, she also made sure we were not disconnected once we were far away, even though it was our choice to move. Mom also told us repeatedly that she thought we were doing a great job raising the kids because we lived in Israel. In other words she made us feel she approved of our choice, and while she would always have difficulty with our living so far away, she understood.
And for both of us, knowing that she understood was very important.
Jay's memories
My earliest childhood memory dates from around 1956 when I was about three years old and we were still living in the apartment on Greeby Street in Oxford Circle. Mom took me to see my first movie (I have no idea where Ellis was—it was just Mom and I). We walked to the neighborhood theatre (“Castor”?) and got there after the movie had begun. The only seat left was on the front row. I was sitting on Mom’s lap, and I only remember one scene from the movie: a close-up of the head of an Indian (PC: read “native American”) sporting a Mohawk haircut and in war-paint filled the screen. He let out a war-whoop and then I started crying (loudly, I think). Mom just cuddled me for the rest of the movie, and I was too afraid to look up at the screen again.
I don’t remember getting taken to the movies again for quite some time…
There was a time when I would take Mom to the movies. My elementary school vice-principal had a thing for the opera, and all fifth- and sixth- graders went to the Academy of Music twice a year to see the now defunct Lyric Opera company. Being a public school got us discount tickets, but we still sat in the uppermost tier. I was exposed very early to Carmen, Aida, and La Traviata…. And learned very young to like opera (if not fully appreciate it: I remember crying the day after seeing Carmen when the production was panned in the Inquirer—I had loved the spectacle and the music). Once out of Lamberton, opera tickets became too expensive for me, but around once a year some highbrow producer would decide that Americans would go see a filmed version. Not only couldn’t I go with my friends; I was afraid to even mention to most of them that I was interested. So I asked Mom to go with me….
The very first time I asked her, she gave me a big kiss and got teary eyed. I said something smart-aleky like “Well, if you’re going to cry, I’m not going to take you.” We went to see La Boheme which actually got a full week’s run at City Line Center. We both loved the film and loved having someone to go with. Mom couldn’t keep her promise though—when Mimi died she was weeping buckets. We did, however, continue to see films together off and on whenever there was something that we thought fit “our” profile. I think the last was “Enchanted April” when I was in the States without Genia. Going to the films and discussing them gave us some of our best times together.
I don’t remember getting taken to the movies again for quite some time…
There was a time when I would take Mom to the movies. My elementary school vice-principal had a thing for the opera, and all fifth- and sixth- graders went to the Academy of Music twice a year to see the now defunct Lyric Opera company. Being a public school got us discount tickets, but we still sat in the uppermost tier. I was exposed very early to Carmen, Aida, and La Traviata…. And learned very young to like opera (if not fully appreciate it: I remember crying the day after seeing Carmen when the production was panned in the Inquirer—I had loved the spectacle and the music). Once out of Lamberton, opera tickets became too expensive for me, but around once a year some highbrow producer would decide that Americans would go see a filmed version. Not only couldn’t I go with my friends; I was afraid to even mention to most of them that I was interested. So I asked Mom to go with me….
The very first time I asked her, she gave me a big kiss and got teary eyed. I said something smart-aleky like “Well, if you’re going to cry, I’m not going to take you.” We went to see La Boheme which actually got a full week’s run at City Line Center. We both loved the film and loved having someone to go with. Mom couldn’t keep her promise though—when Mimi died she was weeping buckets. We did, however, continue to see films together off and on whenever there was something that we thought fit “our” profile. I think the last was “Enchanted April” when I was in the States without Genia. Going to the films and discussing them gave us some of our best times together.
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