My Various Jewish Mothers -- a guest post

A guest post from Hana’s friend Nell

Dear Lilah,

As you may know from reading Hana’s blog, my mother died last May.  She has been much in my thoughts since then.  And today as I made matzah balls in preparation for seder, I was thinking about my beloved mother-in-law Shirley, and how much she taught me about being Jewish.  (As you may also remember, I was raised Episcopalian in South Carolina, and like Hana, eventually converted to Judaism after years of living Jewishly.)  I realized that I have been lucky enough to have had a number of Jewish mothers.

I’m going to count my mother and my Granny Nell among them.  Granny Nell (my paternal grandmother) was known for her gracious home (in a great big old Southern house) and her ability to throw together a delightful spread from next to nothing, with little warning.  She also set beautiful formal tables for family holidays; her everyday lunches were pretty fancy too by our standards. (No ketchup bottles were ever allowed on her table; the condiment had to be served in a separate bowl.)  But she was warm and funny and smart, and all your time in her dining room was comfortable and entertaining. So I learned how a good hostess can make a meal special.  Given the Jewish emphasis on hospitality, I think Granny Nell counts as an honorary Jewish mother.

My mother planned and worried about all the little details before entertaining.  Mostly too much so from our perspective as her cleaning/cooking/serving minions, but her perfectionism often paid off in spectacular social successes.  I may have taken those lessons in perfectionism a little too much to heart (just ask Hana!), but those details often pay off.  Count Mama as honorary Jewish mother number two.

Shirley Hirsch was truly a proverbial woman of valor before severe dementia took over.  She had an education and career as a nurse before it was in vogue, kept working as she raised six splendid children, made it look easy to keep a kosher home, treasured her Judaism, cherished her family, and reached out to make everyone feel welcome and included.  Her relationship with Sol became my model for our marriage.  I loved walking into her house because I knew that I would get a huge hug and feel her absolute delight in seeing me – and because that house always smelled like the very best chicken soup.  Shirley was not the least bit pretentious, her table and her cooking were not fancy, but the love and warmth there were genuine. And I learned the practical points of Judaism from Shirley:  how to keep kosher, which foods go with which holiday, traditions, Yiddish-isms, and Jewish identity.  I never cook for a Jewish holiday without thinking about her over and over.

And then there was my Michigan best friend, Arlene (of blessed memory).  Outspoken, smart, full of art and culture, and interested in everything.  I was bowled over by her big personality, but I loved every minute of it.  We shared books, recipes, opinions and stories and worries about our children.  Though we could hardly have been more different, she was my first close Jewish friend, and most importantly, introduced me to the joy of a synagogue community.  I think of her too as I cook for holidays, remembering so many conversations about food and friends.

Betsy Giller was a friend and teacher that I shared with Hana (and many others) before she died ten years ago.  Besides all the Jewish history and Torah that Betsy taught, she embodied the joy of Judaism.  Betsy positively glowed on Yom Kippur, sitting next to me in choir while I felt grumpy about the fasting.  During choir rehearsals, she happily taught me Hebrew and liturgy as we worked through the music.  And over time, I absorbed enough that I began to feel comfortable instead of faking my way through it all – comfortable enough that I finally converted.  Betsy was quite short, but she was a dynamo.  I couldn’t help but succumb to her enthusiasm and joy in being Jewish.  And again, cooking – Betsy advocated brushing honey on the outside of your challah before baking.

This Passover I will think about my five Jewish mother-figures, each so very different from the others, but all strong women.  Each one will be with me as I cook and set my seder table, and I’ll remember how lucky I am.