Mama’s speech

 May 13, 2023

Rebekah.

First of all, it is truly an honor and a joy to be your mother. You were a sweet baby; an excellent sleeper which was very appreciated at my age. 

As you grew, through your childhood I did worry at times that you might be too sweet for this world. Too quiet to be safe.  I wondered, at times, how would you be heard and seen?

And so how absolutely perfect for this, Bamidbar, to be your torah portion. Your message on the parsha, is of course,  regarding justice and kindness, which is so representative of you. But from my perspective there are 2 essential parts to the story of Bamidbar that relate so perfectly to your growth into a young lady of integrity and strength while addressing my worries for you..

So setting the stage: Bamidbar, which of course literally means, in the desert, is a moment in our people's history of being together, but not having arrived home yet. We were a people not just waiting together; we were in an actual desert, without modern comforts, and with a significant risk of danger - not unlike the world we live in today can be. But we were together and even in a hostile place that helped us grow from whatever hardships we faced. I have seen this in you. While you prefer to endure things quietly and without much complaint, you have grown to learn to lean on your friends, your teachers, your family;  when you need help or comfort. 

The second thing that reminds me of your own journey is, when Hashem instructed Moshe to count the Jewish people, the instruction was שאו את-ראש (se’u et rosh),  to “lift their heads.”  It was that each individual may be intentionally cherished and recognized, not merely counted. As Rashi said, “Because they (the Children of Israel) are dear to Him, G-d counts them often.”

And this is what I have seen in you. I have seen, especially in the last few years, you raise up your head. I have heard you use your voice, share your heart, and demonstrate to the friends and family around you that you cherish them. You may not say everything on your mind, but you do not let an opportunity go by without saying the thing that is most important, often what the other person most needs to hear.

This life and the world we live in can be hostile and there is certainly evil in it. As you know, it has touched our own family directly, just a generation back. So how does one live with a raised head in such a world?

To quote Rabbi and author, Harold Kushner, of Blessed Memory, “Our souls are not hungry for fame, comfort, wealth, or power. Our souls are hungry for meaning, for the sense that we have figured out how to live so that our lives matter.” 

And what better way to live well than to recognize our own significance and to help others do the same. We raise our heads. We help others do the same.  And I see you, Rebekah, do just that. 

Mazal tov, to you, on all of your hard work for this day - but more than that for all the Blessings you bring to each of us, every day, that are privileged to know you.

An unexpected outcome

For Rebekah’s bat mitzvah, she opted to devote herself to a project based around Yad Vashem’s Twinning program. Through Yad Vashem, she was matched with a young girl who died during the holocaust and did not have a bat mitzvah of her own, in order to honor her.

Here are the details of her match and project, which Rebekah posted to a website we created:

https://www.eventcreate.com/e/rivkahneshama

This, in and of itself was a beautiful thing to do, but what happened on the day of Rebekah’s bat mitzvah celebration was unbelievable. Unknown to Rebekah and myself, our Rabbi, Uri Topolosky, had contacted the family of Rebekah’s match, Rivkah Low, who live here in the U.S. 

The day of the bat mitzvah, of course, Rebekah davened and leyned beautifully. Afterwards, Rebekah gave a speech and our rabbi traditionally gives the b’nei mitzvot a gift on behalf of the congregation. In this moment, however, he informed us of a surprise he had in store.

He told us how he not only reached out to Rivkah Low’s cousin but he had talked extensively with him. The cousin, Herb, was informed that Rebekah would be honoring Rivkah with her project and dedicating the day to her.  Herb was so moved and told his entire family about Rebekah, enabling generations of Rivkah Low’s cousins to participate.

In addition, Herb had sent to the rabbi a gift of a beautiful siddur, inscribed with Rebekah’s hebrew names. He also sent a card and a letter full of family pictures and information. Herb, who had submitted the information to Yad Vashem decades ago, told our Rabbi, he wondered what the submission would do - meaning his cousins and aunt and uncle were still gone. And now, here, this young lady, my Rebekah, comes along and honors his cousin with her project of candle lighting and tzedekah in Rivkah’s honor. 

May Rivkah, OBM, along with her parents, her sisters and her brother, may their memories continue to be for a Blessing.

May we all continue to celebrate life together and find connections despite any differences. May we continue to find ways to shine light in the face of darkness.

Rebekah July 2011

 Dearest Little Bek,

There are those who may take offense to the idea that I am older. Too bad. It is my blog and that is part of how this story came to be. So I am older. Not a “young mom” in any case. Definitely not Teen Mom material. Although I can appreciate the episodic befuddlement that is associated with those younger ladies.

In any case, that was what brought about the kindling of an idea that is now you, my second daughter. I thought, I am old. My husband is older. Our parents are even older. All of Ella’s cousins live so far away. One day she will be alone in a house full of cats and will say to herself, why am I an only child? So my parents could take me to Europe once in a while or afford a private school education I don’t really appreciate? Why could I not have a younger sister instead? Then your father really sealed it – he had the nerve to have a heart attack. He is better now, as you well know, but that was the real catalyst. Where some people may see a reason to pack up camp and retire I saw a need to expand. Now I make you sound like a community development project. But, in truth, that was how the idea planted in my mind.

I wanted your sister to have a life long friend and companion. Someone whose flavor and concept of the world was shaped by the same influences and people. Someone that she may love with all the pride and intensity with which I love my little brother. In fact, I thought for sure you were going to be a William, not a Rebekah. (Do not think for one moment that I am disappointed in that. You are you and were meant to be you, as I came to discover…read on.)

As soon as your father and I realized that you were meant to be a part of our lives, you appeared. A little plus sign on a stick. A flickering flash of light on an ultrasound screen. And then, before I knew, it this incredible expansion in my heart takes place. You have taken your place there.

I cannot believe that there can be such an infinite capacity in my heart when my emotions and mentality can be so ordinarily selfish, which is my unfortunate nature. I guess that is why all the great theologians discuss how God is Love. That God lives in the hearts. Because I could never be that infinite on purpose, as much as I may try. But you have done that for me. Just by being.

As a baby you are so easy to smile. People hold you and you smile and they say, “She didn’t just smile, did she? Isn’t’ that early for a “real” smile?” And they look again and you just smile right at them until they know you. Your essence seems to be to smile and be easy going. At least most of the time. You are, after all, only human.

If I was a really talented writer, I could convey so much more clearly how much I love you. But alas, I chose medicine rather than writing. So you will have to close your eyes and try to think of how much one could possibly love and remain a frail human. And that would be it. That is exactly how much I love you.

What started as a cerebral adventure on my part, “deciding” to have a sibling for Ella, brought me right back to our intention. To live by Love. I have a sense now that I decided nothing…no more than I could “make” you come into being. That I was, in all my frail humanity, led to you. As you were meant to be. As you were meant to take residence in our lives and in our hearts.

I cannot, either, describe to you how intensely and thoroughly your sister loves you. She adores you… is always bringing you items of tribute. Everything from her favorite dolls to a fresh diaper to my cell phone. She seems to desire nothing more than to let you know she loves you and is here for you. People tell me, “Oh just wait until later, they will fight and blah blah blah…” I don’t care for all that cynicism. Who cares. Right now is now. And all I can see is Love in this house.

Now your father I think is still in shock at his capacity for love and worry and concern. He seems to have been dazed in a sense, from the moment you both were born. At the same time, he keeps the house together. He makes dinner nearly every day. Practically cleans the house unaided by yours truly. He is our rock. In other words, he is hopelessly in love with all three of us. Even Lila, most of the time.

So that is our story. The story of you and I. Of how we came to be on this day. Today. I thought I was making a practical and important decision. Instead I find that our lives have been thoroughly blessed and altered (once again). I have realized I have been led to you. My littlest bit. Our darling Rebekah.

Now for your name. You were named for my brothers wife, your Aunt Rebekah. She is such an incredible mommy, lady, friend, sister – I cannot wait for you to get to know her. She is warm and loving and incredibly dear and yet strong, vibrant and powerful…Everything any mother would want her daughter to be. She is an example and leader in the world of “mommy” to me. And she is one of the first women in my life that became a dear friend to me. As I hope I am to her. It is a long story, for another day, but I am a late bloomer in the “I have close girlfriends” department.

Your second name is a different story. Caroline is the name for another dear friend. Now my friend’s name is Brigitte and well…it is a nice name but it wouldn’t work for you no matter how much I tried. But her daughter is Caroline. And when Mama and Daddy were seemingly having so much trouble bringing our family (you and Ella) into our lives, Caroline and Brigitte were always there for us. They kept our hope alive. There were times when I would give up inside, truly. I knew you and your sister were out there, in the Hall of Souls, waiting for us. But I began to doubt that your father and I would ever get to meet you in this lifetime. But then Brigitte and Caroline would be there. Caroline would look into my heart and somehow she conveyed your message. I guess because she was closer to The Source. It was like, “Don’t give up, what is meant to be will be in good time”. She and her mommy did that for us. I hope over time you will come to know them and love them as well.

Well back to the now. You are sleeping, for now. So I best shower while I can. I love you dear heart. See you when you wake. And in my heart always,

Mama.

Marcella 1st Birthday

 January 7, 2009 – January 7, 2010

Dearest Ella,

I will never forget the day you were born…We had been waiting for 16 hours of labor when the good doctor decided a c-section was the thing. Mama’s friends Beth and Brigitte waited the whole day with me and your father & Papa Craig. The doctor held you up in the air so I could see you and you looked so angry! You gave us a good holler and then they set about cleaning you up…you were so big!

You may not know this but we had been waiting for you for years and hoping for you and praying that you would come into our lives…and then there you were. So alive, so mad…so beautiful and healthy. You really took my breath away. Just ask your father if you don’t believe me…They tell you to sleep in the hospital while you can but I secretly would stay awake and just sing to you and kiss you. That was when I started calling you “little bit.” You were not that little, and your dad asked me what the nickname was from. I was too embarrassed to tell him it was that you were a little piece of my heart.

You were such a good sleeper, from the very beginning, it was like you knew we needed the rest….I was so afraid I would not know what to do with you. But each day would come and pass and we would figure it out. Your Uncle Bill was here to help the first few days and his experienced hand and being on California time were invaluable.

So a few highlights from your first year….

A few weeks after you were born, Barak Obama was sworn into the office of President of the United States. I sat there glued to the TV, holding you in my arms. Telling you all about it, describing the ceremony moment by moment. I felt deeply that day that if an African American could be voted into office, we were at the beginning of a new era. An era of more peace, less hidden oppression of minorities, more hope than ever of safety and security for everyone regardless of their skin color or personal preferences…or religion. I was so happy to have you in this new world…part of a great new future. Maybe the hormones had something to do with my emotions. But it was a great moment, nevertheless.

When you were four months old I went back to work full-time. That is when we met our own personal angel on earth, Coni. She was a natural with you. Eventually, when you started to talk, it was half in Spanish and half in English! I was so afraid to leave you at first. But I could see when I came home to you, you were safe and loved and so happy. She made a very hard decision, to go back to work, so much easier and even a little wonderful. She really became a part of our family.

When you were 9 months you took your first airplane flight. That part was not so fun. But we had Thanksgiving and a wedding for cousin Emily in Nebraska. It was cold but so fun and everyone took turns playing with you and your cousin Daniel. You were a darling the whole trip. Except during the ceremony you discovered what a big voice you had when in a stone church with cathedral ceilings. Luckily it was unseasonably warm for Nebraska so we spent some time out side.

You know you barely crawled before you started walking. But before that was the dancing. You had favorite songs, but pretty much anything would get you moving. People would come over just to watch your act. You did this thing were you would drop low during your little dance. You had a serious fan club of followers. And no one can be as proud of a child as your father would be of you. All he could talk about was you and each and every milestone. It was as if you graduated from Harvard every day, a thousand times over.

Lila, our trusty little puppy, was not as taken with you at first. She actually pooped in your room when we first fixed it all up. I don’t know how she reacted when she first smelled your scent. Our friend Erik brought home your baby cap for her to smell. I will have to ask him about that one day. But Lila became your dog, didn’t she. She is now as enamored of you as we are.

So, my dear little one, you kept growing. And before I knew it, it was your first birthday. I did what everyone tells new mommies and daddies not to do. I had too many people in our house! I invited everyone I know and then some. It was a little insane and overboard. But it was fun. And when everyone sang happy birthday, your face just froze. Halfway through, you realized we were all singing to you. You gave most of us the stink eye. But your piece of cake seemed to make up for all of that. You had not had cake before and completely relished the experience. And the icing.

So here we are. A family.

Words cannot express how much you mean to me. To your father. We love you so much little bit. Happy happy birthday. You have changed our lives forever and touched our hearts in a way we did not know was possible. When I try to describe it – it all sounds so cliché. But the fact is, our lives will never be the same. And we are more than grateful for that.

Love,

Mama

Trouble Sleeping in 2011

Hello Rebekah,

 It is 3 minutes into a new day, Wednesday, August 4, 2011. Tonight I type with one hand and erratically at that. With you… while rocking, shushing and occasionally replacing your pacifier.

You and I have been trying to go to bed since 9pm. Your daddy was in the mix but someone has to get up with Ella. Plus you and i have to get up at 6 to start our nursing schedule because I am working in the morning before I have a job interview….I am stoked about the interview. Even with less than 6 hours sleep. Not ideal, but we do what we have to.

I took us 30 minutes to write that paragraph….Now you are less fussy and heavier, and your beautiful eyes are closed. My sweet angel.

I want you to know, I treasure this moment with you. One day, I may have to barter with you for a quick hug…Like withhold the car keys until you humor me. But only when your friends are not looking, of course. But for now, you cannot get enough of me. So for this moment I am all yours.

And for always,

Mama

Reflections on this anniversary

 This year, we opted to do something a bit different to mark September 9. For the past 48 years, I have marked the anniversaries of the deaths of my Grandparents and Aunt Barbara in a variety of ways. 

So this year marked a different approach, and is meant to celebrate life. 

So I approached my mother, with our idea. A meal of some their favorite foods and some stories my mother would be willing to share, over zoom, to give us an idea of who these people were. I will admit I was afraid the topic would be upsetting, but it was the opposite - my mother was happy to recollect and speak with us. First task: find out some favorite foods.  Apparently Barbara liked all the typical Amercian teenager foods that my own childen eat: pizza and fries, of course. But as this was our first launch we wanted to upscale it a bit, so in honor of my Granfather, Bill Peak, we went with a steak dinner. 

Once we all sat down, a bit dressed up for the occasion as well, we connected with mom to hear stories. 

One of the things I find intriguing with ancestry research is the possibility to look back and find out something of a person. Not just a date or a name of a town, but how may I know this person. So while I may muddle through my own life and agonize or breeze through a million decisions, who would ever know? I could make spectacular errors or heroic ventures... and all of it may seem consequential in a moment but in the end may be catolouged by humanity as a gravestone and a small collection of records. A life represented by census papers and maybe a will or a marraige licnense. And that's it. The stories, unless someone wrote them down, are lost. I have this one 4th or 5th great grandmother who apparently wrote poems to her grandchildren. I happen to have one. It is a treasure because it is a representation of the who she was not just what she was.

So here I am, writing it down....I learn, not for the first time of how Grandpa Bill loved a steak. And that he could make fried chicken. I had heard that one before and it always struck me, since I grew up in a house where the only things my father could make were scrambled eggs and coffee.

I hear, not for the first time, about how both of my grandparents were atypical of their time when it came to issues of race and equality. My grandmother, who was from a LDS background in Utah, was especially impassioned about this. There is nothing about her background that would explain it (nothing against Utah, or the LDS, but we are talking about a woman born in 1922) but she simply knew that people of different races were equal and should be treated as such. My grandfather was apparently less vocal about this but did support this view in action. My mother tells us how my grandparents invited officers who were people of color, over for a meal, with the intention of demonstrating their beliefs. 

My mother recalls a party in honor of my grandfather's retirement from the Army. As her father had served his country within the intelligence community as well as the military we will never know everything he may have seen or done. But my mother recalls well a man at the party who told her that while she may not know what her father had done exactly, that she ought to know he had done great things for this country. At this party he received a presidential medal for his service as well. Grandpa Bill and Barbara are seen together celebrating his retirement.

Apparently, Barbara and her father were great pals. I have heard them described that way before. In the photo above is Barbara at age 13 or 14, about a year before she died, and so she really was the baby of the family. My mother tells us stories describing someone who was quite the little grown up.

Apparently, she was a very big reader because while they were stationed in eastern Europe the most American thing on TV was the Flintstones speaking Hungarian. So she read and she drew. She loved comics as well. But apparently she would read anything. My mother tells us that Grandpa would fall asleep reading his book and Barbara would take it off of him while he slept and read it herself. When Grandpa would wake up he could never find his books.

Other little snippets I had heard of them over the years: Grandpa like the song Mrs. Robinson, by Simon and Garfunkel. He liked to read the last page of a book before he started it. And he would do a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box. Barbara had the Lord of the Rings books and I have her copy of the Hobbit. Growing up, we had her collection of Peanuts comics, which I would read over and over..

So this writing is not about how they died, which was horrible and sad and will never stop breaking my heart. This is about who they were, honoring their memories and getting to know the people that were so loved.

More about my Grandmother, Bernice, will be coming in November when we will mark her yahrzeit on the anniversary of her passing, around November 8. 

In their Blessed memories, a donation has been made to 866-OUR-VOTE. This is a nonpartisan election protection coalition that works to ensure all voters have equal opportunity to vote. Based on what my mother said, Grandpa would have really liked that, for he loved this country and all it can be.

Also a donation has been made to Everytown For Gun Safety. Because I never got the chance to argue politics with my grandfather. And because the only picture my Aunt Barbara drew of her first niece was of my mother, pregnant.

May their memory be for a Blessing. 

Blueberry Buckle

blueberry buckle

what is it really made of?

laser focus of menace

charm and frustration

strong arms

a safe hand

the tears from weeping over dreamed up realities

tv dinner dates

connection and disconnection

shattered realities

old tapes of avarice and lost hope

in the end, 

fondness

warm wishes

and flexible love