How do I describe my mom in just a few words when the person in my family who was always best with words was my mom.
That in and of itself always impressed me considering English was her second language….or rather her fourth after Polish, Yiddish and German.
For starters, I could tell you that my mom was a peasant at heart… solid stock who loved to make gefilte fish the old fashioned way, whose matzo balls were second to none and who always took leftover rolls home in a napkin because bread was her favorite food … I could tell you that my mom never went anywhere without a book in her hand – and for years – every day after school, I’d come home to see my mom reading a library book at the kitchen table – it could have been Agatha Christie or Atlas Shrugged… I could tell you that my mom was so small that when she came up to visit me at Red Fox Music Camp one summer, she looked like she’d shrunk in the short time I’d been away…
But much more importantly, I’d like us all to remember my mom’s character -- her caring nature and her compassion, her intellect and her wisdom, her creativity and her grace.
I’ve always thought it was my mother’s own hardship as a poor 13-year old Polish girl who found her way to a strange new country that made her so caring and compassionate….
As you've already heard, Mielec, her hometown, was a village of 15,000. Her father was a tailor there, her older sister Ruth went to Gymnasium. There were and synagogues and schools… organizations dedicated to helping the poor…there was a warm community – and a closeness that came with the humble life they led there. My mother – and her mother - left Mielec in 1935 to join her father and sister in America – four short years before the Nazi invasion when everything there was destroyed. Her lifelong friendships with the few who survived those years were among her most precious.
My mother never returned to Poland…I’m not even sure that she really wanted to….because all that she had known there was no more.
My mother's respect for learning was cultivated back in Mielec and came through every day in her years as a teacher. Her dedication to her students didn’t stop at the end of each school day– my mom would spend countless hours doing lesson plans, choosing and directing school plays, making “mimeos”, charts and crafts… ”Mrs. Sarfaty” was a teacher’s teacher who set a standard for creativity and commitment at P.S. 207 in Howard Beach, Queens where she spent many years. My mom was a teacher kids loved and admired long after the school year was over.
And, there was nobody like my mom to talk to about your problems, whatever they were. She was always a sympathetic and compassionate listener. There was nobody more empathetic.
My mother was always well read and informed. She’d engage in discussions about politics and social issues – and even spent her sabbatical one year devoted to the study of values in school. She never shied away from a good discussion about politics or social issues - the polemics at my parents' holiday dinners were legend. She was way ahead of her time in 1983 when she completed a research study on the teaching of values in school. She explored intolerance and lack of respect among schoolchildren...and this was many years before Columbine and other incidents like it. In addition to all of this, my mother loved the arts - literature, theatre, ballet, opera. She ushered me to ballet lessons from the time I could walk...we'd go to New York City to see the Paper Bag Players before children's theatre was de rigueur, we'd go to the ballet, concerts, opera - she loved them all.
As for my parents as a pair, Manny and Pearl were a pretty well balanced duo. My father -- the firebrand. My mother, the quiet reformer. She was an activist every day - on the front line with kids who needed help, with families who had no support, with a school system that needed fixing. And while their styles were very different, their sensibilities, their priorities, their values were the same. Justice, humanity and compassion - their guiding principles. My father's selfless devotion to my mother in these last years is only further testament to their bond.
All in all, my deepest sadness in all this is that my children were not able to benefit from my mother’s love and wisdom as they grew up. Hannah was 12 the last time she had a cogent conversation with my mom; Matt was 9. As you can see much time has passed. And while I know they remember my parents visits to Tenafly twice a week when they were small, the tragedy for us all is that it stopped all too soon. So what can I say about my mom in just a few words? My mother was a great person, warm and loving, and I miss her.
That in and of itself always impressed me considering English was her second language….or rather her fourth after Polish, Yiddish and German.
For starters, I could tell you that my mom was a peasant at heart… solid stock who loved to make gefilte fish the old fashioned way, whose matzo balls were second to none and who always took leftover rolls home in a napkin because bread was her favorite food … I could tell you that my mom never went anywhere without a book in her hand – and for years – every day after school, I’d come home to see my mom reading a library book at the kitchen table – it could have been Agatha Christie or Atlas Shrugged… I could tell you that my mom was so small that when she came up to visit me at Red Fox Music Camp one summer, she looked like she’d shrunk in the short time I’d been away…
But much more importantly, I’d like us all to remember my mom’s character -- her caring nature and her compassion, her intellect and her wisdom, her creativity and her grace.
I’ve always thought it was my mother’s own hardship as a poor 13-year old Polish girl who found her way to a strange new country that made her so caring and compassionate….
As you've already heard, Mielec, her hometown, was a village of 15,000. Her father was a tailor there, her older sister Ruth went to Gymnasium. There were and synagogues and schools… organizations dedicated to helping the poor…there was a warm community – and a closeness that came with the humble life they led there. My mother – and her mother - left Mielec in 1935 to join her father and sister in America – four short years before the Nazi invasion when everything there was destroyed. Her lifelong friendships with the few who survived those years were among her most precious.
My mother never returned to Poland…I’m not even sure that she really wanted to….because all that she had known there was no more.
My mother's respect for learning was cultivated back in Mielec and came through every day in her years as a teacher. Her dedication to her students didn’t stop at the end of each school day– my mom would spend countless hours doing lesson plans, choosing and directing school plays, making “mimeos”, charts and crafts… ”Mrs. Sarfaty” was a teacher’s teacher who set a standard for creativity and commitment at P.S. 207 in Howard Beach, Queens where she spent many years. My mom was a teacher kids loved and admired long after the school year was over.
And, there was nobody like my mom to talk to about your problems, whatever they were. She was always a sympathetic and compassionate listener. There was nobody more empathetic.
My mother was always well read and informed. She’d engage in discussions about politics and social issues – and even spent her sabbatical one year devoted to the study of values in school. She never shied away from a good discussion about politics or social issues - the polemics at my parents' holiday dinners were legend. She was way ahead of her time in 1983 when she completed a research study on the teaching of values in school. She explored intolerance and lack of respect among schoolchildren...and this was many years before Columbine and other incidents like it. In addition to all of this, my mother loved the arts - literature, theatre, ballet, opera. She ushered me to ballet lessons from the time I could walk...we'd go to New York City to see the Paper Bag Players before children's theatre was de rigueur, we'd go to the ballet, concerts, opera - she loved them all.
As for my parents as a pair, Manny and Pearl were a pretty well balanced duo. My father -- the firebrand. My mother, the quiet reformer. She was an activist every day - on the front line with kids who needed help, with families who had no support, with a school system that needed fixing. And while their styles were very different, their sensibilities, their priorities, their values were the same. Justice, humanity and compassion - their guiding principles. My father's selfless devotion to my mother in these last years is only further testament to their bond.
All in all, my deepest sadness in all this is that my children were not able to benefit from my mother’s love and wisdom as they grew up. Hannah was 12 the last time she had a cogent conversation with my mom; Matt was 9. As you can see much time has passed. And while I know they remember my parents visits to Tenafly twice a week when they were small, the tragedy for us all is that it stopped all too soon. So what can I say about my mom in just a few words? My mother was a great person, warm and loving, and I miss her.
