There aren’t that many days in our lives when we feel truly special. At least I haven’t had that many. Even if we try to slow down, appreciate our day-to-day lives, and notice gestures of kindness and affection, we don’t often feel showered with love and respect. Maybe a milestone birthday, your wedding, or a retirement party, but sometimes those occasions are fraught as well. I had that rare experience of feeling enveloped in warmth, surrounded by people who were rooting for me this past weekend.
My brother, Mark, and sister-in-law, Pam, organized a book party for me to celebrate the publication of More Than Matzoh Balls: My Search for Jewish-American Identity. Some family and friends came together to toast my achievement.
Gary, my husband of 42 years and change, offered the following poem as his toast:
Linda and her Nana’s table
They were inseparable
A safe cocoon, so stable
A time so memorable.
Her family hid a shocking secret
No one spoke about.
A letter told them of the loss
Silence could not block out.
When we met, she also learned
How my parents survived.
While many fell, against all odds
They made it through alive.
Two families, two traumas
And two ways to cope.
Scars of anguish, fear and pain
Entwined with love and hope.
All this family legacy
Stirred around her brain
And mingled with modernity
In introspective pain.
How did Linda fit in?
And where did she belong?
Could she find her place and yet
Embrace that family bond?
So she started writing
Blog posts week by week.
Giving us those snippets
Giving us a peek.
A book was such a daunting task
But she had a tale to tell.
She wrote and rewrote endlessly
Dug deep into her well.
Sometimes it seemed impossible
Would it ever get done?
But then she found a publisher
A new phase had begun.
She wrote stories we need to hear
She wrote with care and love
What the human soul can bear
And can rise above.
And now the book is published
To fill the void with light
Filled with purpose, filled with hope
Invested with insight.
So now we toast our Linda
For nurturing the dream.
For showing how a world that vanished
Can sometimes be redeemed.
To Linda
Everyone lifted their glasses and took a sip. It was a special moment. Gary understood all that had gone into this, and he expressed it so beautifully. Sometimes I think he should be the writer in the family! Maybe when he retires, we both can be.
Whatever happens with the book in terms of sales or attention, it is not as important as having the love and support of family and friends. Of course, I won’t be disappointed if it sells, too!
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