Stories I Tell Myself

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!