April 9, 2008
Another day, another meeting, today I find myself in New York sharing my room with a colleague from Arizona. I woke up and got into the bathroom early so I could get done with my business before my roommate woke up so she would not have to wait on me. (Shocking that I might be a little high maintenance isn’t it?) As I began to look around the bathroom for my toiletries I noticed my roommates tooth brush on the counter. An ordinary toothbrush, blue with a pink rubber pick at the base, the toothbrush immediately threw me back 15 years…
I always had a bit of an awkward relationship with my grandfather. My earliest memories are of him being uncomfortable with the noise and chaos my brothers and I brought to his home. I remember trying to get my brothers to be quiet and behave so that he would not be angry or uncomfortable. I remember calling the house and he answered the phone, I must have been 7 or 8 years old and when he picked up the phone and said “Hello?” I immediately said “Is Bubby there?” I was unaware of my transgression but was strongly reprimanded for my lack of respect and manners. At my young age I was terribly upset about this disciplinary action and spent the next decade dialing the phone and praying my grandmother would answer, thereby avoiding the possibility that I would anger my grandfather.
One would think that I would have learned from my past behaviors, yet, on the weekend of my brother’s Bar-Mitzvah, as everyone had come to the synagogue for Friday night dinner, I came into the room and said hello to members of the family but never said hello to my grandfather. He was furious, but instead of speaking to me about it he sat all night at dinner and his anger with me grew. Eventually, my grandmother pointed out what I had done, or rather, what I had not done. At 15 years old I went to my grandfather and apologized. As I write about this experience I can still feel how I was shaking as I approached him.
I always felt I was on eggshells with my grandfather. I was uncomfortable when he was around. Yet, I loved him and respected him dearly. This was a man who served our country as a US Army Medic in WWII and was among the first group of soldiers to liberate Dachau. This was a man who moved his young family to be closer to his mother-in-law as he knew his young wife needed the support system she would provide. This was a man who worked to the bone to keep his family fed and clothed. A man who treated his wife like the queen she deserved to be treated as, supported her passions and participated in them whole heartedly. A very, very good man. Yet, I, was afraid of him.
I tried to learn the lessons and internalize my actions. I understood how brushing him off so I could talk to my grandmother or ignoring him in a room full of family and friends must have been very hurtful. I tried to be respectful and include him in my communication and in the excitements of my achievements but all the while inside I was thinking “OK, if I just get through talking to him I can get to Bubby…” I was going through the motions.
My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer when I was beginning college. The family, especially my grandmother, was stunned. Together we fought hard and were willing to try anything to lengthen his time on this earth. I watched my strong, empowered grandmother become tired and beleaguered as the treatments of my grandfather did not strengthen him, did not repair the damage of the cancer, did not provide hope for a positive outcome. As the ultimate result became clear, my grandmother brought him home to be cured with love.
The morning I was heading off to New York for the beginning of my sophomore year of college I stopped at my grandmother’s house. My grandmother was in the kitchen, the place I saw her most, she was chopping and washing vegetables to make chicken soup for my grandfather’s lunch. I asked what I could do to help and she asked me to take Zaidy’s toothbrush and to clean his teeth with the pick. I was immobilized with fear. How was I supposed to do this?
I went into the bathroom and picked up his blue toothbrush. I slowly walked into my grandparents bedroom and saw my grandfather lying on his bed covered to the neck with the blanket, the white bedspread barely revealing a bump in the bed as he was no more than flesh on bones. I approached him, trembling, as I had done in the past, but this time I was not afraid of sharp words - he was no longer able to communicate with words - I was afraid of how he would feel as his granddaughter needed to clean his teeth for him.
My grandfather was meticulous in everything he did. His clothes ironed, his personal items labeled and put away, cleanliness was a part of his nature. Here he lay, unable to keep himself as clean as he always did and needing my help.
I cried as I moved the pick slowly and gently around his gums. I apologized for having to do it, I told him I loved him and asked him to let me know if I was hurting him. I could barely see his teeth with the blur of the tears filling my eyes. He just looked at me with a look in his eyes that was calm and all knowing. He did not look angry, he did not look sad, he just looked deeply into my eyes and I calmed down and finished the task at hand. I told him I loved him as I left the room and returned his toothbrush to the bathroom.
As I left the house the smell of chicken soup filled my nose. I got on the train to New York. When I arrived in my dorm room there was a message waiting for me that my grandfather had died.
My final moments with him were moments of trying to pay him the respect he had been due my entire life yet I had not been able to give to him. On the day of his death, I finally got it right.
I will never be able to give back to my grandfather the respect he was due from me as I was growing up and did not give him, yet, as I remember the look in his eyes on his last day of life, I find my own peace in the message in his eyes. He knew I loved him and he knew his sharp words and his pointed discipline taught me to be a respectful adult. I did, albeit on his last day in this world, I did have the opportunity to show it to him.
I am guided by the words he put in my head and always attempt to be respectful to all who I have the pleasure of knowing. I encourage you to think of your own family and those who have taught you lessons. Be grateful that they were in your life and take the message they have given you and internalize it to make you a better person.
I thank you, Zaidy, for giving me the recognition of how to be a respectful adult. I love you and I miss you.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
My duties as a Woman
My thoughts on March 17, 2007...
I received what may be considered by most of my peers to be a combination of forward thinking and somewhat archaic messaging about what my duties are as a woman. It is precisely this combination of messages that have formed me into a Woman who believes that it is my obligation to help other women reach their potential and stretch the limits of what the world believes to be possible.
I grew up with two very strong female role models. My Mother and my Grandmother. I encountered other strong women who made an impact on my life during my formative years. But none gave me more consistent messaging than my Mother and Grandmother.
What was the messaging?
Mother:
You can be whatever you want to be.
You are beautiful.
You are strong.
I fought for the right to learn what was before only allowed for men, you can do the same.
Your obligation as a Woman is to your children. You must sacrifice your desires for your children.
Grandmother:
You are a strong woman.
You must find a good man.
You must have a peaceful home
Let your man feel he makes the decisions.
Be involved and active in your community.
Who are these women?
My mother struggled as she was raised in a male dominant Eastern European culture in Queens, NY. Her grandfather was an abusive man and did not particularly like women, primarily my mother. She was not given the same opportunities as her brother and was consistently told she was less than or not as good as.
With no other message this strong spirit believed what she was told. My mother came into her own with the birth of her first child, a daughter, me. She stood up to the questions of doubt that my parents, poor and far from their families, would be able to manage a child so early in their marriage and youth. While the marriage did fail 7 years later my mother raised me with strength and conviction fighting against many odds.
My mother, who never completed college, always worked and always held what felt to me as a child to be professional jobs. We had an open home where we welcomed guests and I learned to let the guests eat first in case there was not enough food. In my teen years lack of food was no longer an issue and it was just a question if the leftovers were going to last one week or two.
My mother told me about her childhood and what she dreamed for me. She told me I was beautiful every day even through my very awkward pre-teen and teen years. She made me believe I could do or accomplish anything, and without having other messages, I believed her. I struggled in school, I struggled fitting into groups, I struggled with my religion and all the while my mother kept up consistent messaging, “Dafna, you can do and be whatever you want to be.” My quote in my high school yearbook is: If you will it, It is no dream, that is the message I received in one ear.
In the other ear lives my Grandmother. This incredible woman dropped out of High School, providing for her brothers to be able to remain in school, to help run the family grocery store after the sudden death of her father when she was 14 years old. She married just before WWII. Sent her husband off to be a medic in a not very Jew friendly part of the world. She conceived my Uncle during one of my Grandfather’s military leave visits. My Grandmother raised my Uncle for his first three years in the home of her mother-in-law, persevered against all odds and gave birth to my father shortly after my Grandfathers return from his Service. She put herself through school as an adult and became a teacher in the rough public schools of Philadelphia and received her Masters Degree when she was already a grandmother.
These were not easy times. This strong woman held it all together. That was her duty as a woman and this is what she taught me. You cook, you clean, you keep peace in the home. When you are done with that you work, you learn, you contribute to your community and you do all these things on a daily basis. As a woman you always have many balls in the air and, while juggling your own, you are also responsible for juggling the balls of those in your home. They are all ultimately your responsibility.
What did I hear?
Let’s face it; I hit the jack-pot when it comes to female role models. While I don’t do everything the way my mother or grandmother would have me do it, it is because of their consistent messaging to me that I have the strength to believe I can do it and I can do anything.
So what do I tell my daughter? I tell her she is beautiful, and she is. I tell her she is bright, and she is. I tell her she can be anything she wants to be, and she will. I should note, I tell the same to my son as he too deserves positive messaging as he grows and develops into the gentleman he deserves to be.
I have a drive. I have a mission. I have a duty. It is my obligation to pass the positive messaging I received onto the women in my community and the women in the world around us. I watch women every day who have been beaten down by life and by forces around them who told them they were not good enough. Unlike my mother, these women believe this message and make poor choices affecting their future. We must not allow this negative messaging to penetrate our sisters and our daughters.
How frustrated I become when I read about the lack of passage of seemingly slam dunk legislation that could wipe out HPV by giving our daughters vaccinations when they are 11 years old. Yet, we have a fear that by giving them this vaccination our daughters will become sexually promiscuous? Do we not realize that by not promoting vaccinations like these, by failing to protect our girls, we are telling them “You are not good enough. You are not smart enough. You are not strong enough to make wise decisions.” We are knocking them down.
Perhaps there is a lack of understanding on how to raise strong confident and competent women? If this is the case it is the responsibility of women who received positive messaging like myself, or those who have overcome negative messaging like my mother and those who come from a different world but understand that women have the capacity to make things happen, like my grandmother, to teach the law makers, the teachers, the religious leaders, the CEO’s around us about the strength and wisdom of women.
We must fight for equity in pay, in educational opportunities, in access to preventative health care. We must take responsibility as economists predict 60% of the workforce being female by 2010 that these women are the CEO’s and VP’s not only support services. We think we are so far forward from our mother’s and grandmother’s days in terms of equity for women and yet out of the 100 seats in the US Senate only 13 are held by women. With Nancy Pelosi as Speaker of the House we certainly have come a long way yet we still have miles to go before we rest.
Anyone up for a walk?
I received what may be considered by most of my peers to be a combination of forward thinking and somewhat archaic messaging about what my duties are as a woman. It is precisely this combination of messages that have formed me into a Woman who believes that it is my obligation to help other women reach their potential and stretch the limits of what the world believes to be possible.
I grew up with two very strong female role models. My Mother and my Grandmother. I encountered other strong women who made an impact on my life during my formative years. But none gave me more consistent messaging than my Mother and Grandmother.
What was the messaging?
Mother:
You can be whatever you want to be.
You are beautiful.
You are strong.
I fought for the right to learn what was before only allowed for men, you can do the same.
Your obligation as a Woman is to your children. You must sacrifice your desires for your children.
Grandmother:
You are a strong woman.
You must find a good man.
You must have a peaceful home
Let your man feel he makes the decisions.
Be involved and active in your community.
Who are these women?
My mother struggled as she was raised in a male dominant Eastern European culture in Queens, NY. Her grandfather was an abusive man and did not particularly like women, primarily my mother. She was not given the same opportunities as her brother and was consistently told she was less than or not as good as.
With no other message this strong spirit believed what she was told. My mother came into her own with the birth of her first child, a daughter, me. She stood up to the questions of doubt that my parents, poor and far from their families, would be able to manage a child so early in their marriage and youth. While the marriage did fail 7 years later my mother raised me with strength and conviction fighting against many odds.
My mother, who never completed college, always worked and always held what felt to me as a child to be professional jobs. We had an open home where we welcomed guests and I learned to let the guests eat first in case there was not enough food. In my teen years lack of food was no longer an issue and it was just a question if the leftovers were going to last one week or two.
My mother told me about her childhood and what she dreamed for me. She told me I was beautiful every day even through my very awkward pre-teen and teen years. She made me believe I could do or accomplish anything, and without having other messages, I believed her. I struggled in school, I struggled fitting into groups, I struggled with my religion and all the while my mother kept up consistent messaging, “Dafna, you can do and be whatever you want to be.” My quote in my high school yearbook is: If you will it, It is no dream, that is the message I received in one ear.
In the other ear lives my Grandmother. This incredible woman dropped out of High School, providing for her brothers to be able to remain in school, to help run the family grocery store after the sudden death of her father when she was 14 years old. She married just before WWII. Sent her husband off to be a medic in a not very Jew friendly part of the world. She conceived my Uncle during one of my Grandfather’s military leave visits. My Grandmother raised my Uncle for his first three years in the home of her mother-in-law, persevered against all odds and gave birth to my father shortly after my Grandfathers return from his Service. She put herself through school as an adult and became a teacher in the rough public schools of Philadelphia and received her Masters Degree when she was already a grandmother.
These were not easy times. This strong woman held it all together. That was her duty as a woman and this is what she taught me. You cook, you clean, you keep peace in the home. When you are done with that you work, you learn, you contribute to your community and you do all these things on a daily basis. As a woman you always have many balls in the air and, while juggling your own, you are also responsible for juggling the balls of those in your home. They are all ultimately your responsibility.
What did I hear?
Let’s face it; I hit the jack-pot when it comes to female role models. While I don’t do everything the way my mother or grandmother would have me do it, it is because of their consistent messaging to me that I have the strength to believe I can do it and I can do anything.
So what do I tell my daughter? I tell her she is beautiful, and she is. I tell her she is bright, and she is. I tell her she can be anything she wants to be, and she will. I should note, I tell the same to my son as he too deserves positive messaging as he grows and develops into the gentleman he deserves to be.
I have a drive. I have a mission. I have a duty. It is my obligation to pass the positive messaging I received onto the women in my community and the women in the world around us. I watch women every day who have been beaten down by life and by forces around them who told them they were not good enough. Unlike my mother, these women believe this message and make poor choices affecting their future. We must not allow this negative messaging to penetrate our sisters and our daughters.
How frustrated I become when I read about the lack of passage of seemingly slam dunk legislation that could wipe out HPV by giving our daughters vaccinations when they are 11 years old. Yet, we have a fear that by giving them this vaccination our daughters will become sexually promiscuous? Do we not realize that by not promoting vaccinations like these, by failing to protect our girls, we are telling them “You are not good enough. You are not smart enough. You are not strong enough to make wise decisions.” We are knocking them down.
Perhaps there is a lack of understanding on how to raise strong confident and competent women? If this is the case it is the responsibility of women who received positive messaging like myself, or those who have overcome negative messaging like my mother and those who come from a different world but understand that women have the capacity to make things happen, like my grandmother, to teach the law makers, the teachers, the religious leaders, the CEO’s around us about the strength and wisdom of women.
We must fight for equity in pay, in educational opportunities, in access to preventative health care. We must take responsibility as economists predict 60% of the workforce being female by 2010 that these women are the CEO’s and VP’s not only support services. We think we are so far forward from our mother’s and grandmother’s days in terms of equity for women and yet out of the 100 seats in the US Senate only 13 are held by women. With Nancy Pelosi as Speaker of the House we certainly have come a long way yet we still have miles to go before we rest.
Anyone up for a walk?
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