A Note from Sam Rickless

I remember Pearl as her nephew (she was always "Aunt Pearl" to me). When I was growing up, my family lived in Europe, and so what I remember are the trips we took every year or two to visit family in the United States. There were two home bases, my father's mother's house in Rochester, N.Y., and Pearl and Manny's house in Hewlett.


My memories of Pearl begin with a spotless, cozy, welcoming home, on a quiet treesy street. Pearl is so sweet, so generous, so kind. She makes me feel comfortable without saying a word. Her smile immediately puts me at ease. I see her now, sitting comfortably on her living room armchair working on a crossword puzzle. It doesn't take her very long. Eugene T. Maleska has met his match.


I see vast amounts of food, delicious food, more than enough to feed the whole neighborhood, to sustain animated political conversations, to feed the peals of laughter that reverberate around the dining room table. Passover Seders at Manny and Pearl's are not about ostentatious silverware and crystal: they are about right and wrong, loving and giving.


Pearl amazes me. She is not a large person, but she is strong, she is determined, she stands up for herself, she stands up for what is right. She has moral clarity, a strong sense of justice, a commitment to making the world a better place. A small woman with a big heart and unshakeable inner strength.


That is the Pearl who lives inside me and speaks through me when I lecture to my students about civil rights, about McCarthyism, about the struggles of working people under unregulated capitalism, and about the principle of equal opportunity for men and women, blacks and latinos, jews and muslims, rich and poor. Her greatest gift to me was to help me understand why it is important to take a stand, to be counted when it counts, to never give up.


love


Sam