I've made some progress looking for Uncle Jack. It's not very pretty and somewhat chilling.
I was never able to learn Uncle Jack's real story. Grandma said he "fell in with a bad lot." I think my father told me Jack's father wanted nothing to do with him but that Aunt Lil kept in touch with him in the 1930s.
Uncle Jack was arrested in Boston when he was young. Drove a car in a robbery, which he claimed he was not connected with.
In 1930, he was living with a wife and stepson in NY.
I found the stepson who died in 2005. His widow spoke to someone who is helping me, and said that he grew up in an orphanage and then on the streets before he joined the Navy.
This stepson had a son, who is not mentioned in his obituary.
That's three generations - father estranged from son, stepfather estranged from stepson, father estranged from son.
In a letter to the stepson's widow I wrote:
I think that, if my great-grandfather Mandel had everything to live over, he would have tried to find a way to reconcile with his son, and that in some way I am carrying the desire to make some healing of this breach.
Today, the 17th of Tammuz commemorates the day the Romans breached the walls of Jerusalem. Only today I realized that when we gave Sasha the middle name Yakov, we were also naming him after Uncle Jack (Jacob) Pezrow/Pesarevsky.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Jackson Browne - the best!
I got up this morning and was thinking of this Jackson Browne song. Thank G-d for Google - otherwise I would have had to remember the words myself!
It's a little maudlin, but if you know the music, you might like it. And this youtube is awesome!
Your Bright Baby Blues by Jackson Browne
I'm sittin' down by the highway
Down by that highway side
Everybody's goin' somewhere
Ridin' just as fast as they could ride
I guess they got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified
Pray to God for me, babe, he can let me slide
Well, I've been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast I run
I can never seem to get away from me
No matter where I am
I can't help thinkin', I'm just a day away
Where I wanna be
Now I'm runnin' home, baby
Like a river to the sea
Baby, if you could see me
Out across this wilderness
There's just one thing
I was hopin' you might guess
Baby, you can free me
All in the power of your sweet tenderness
Yeah, yeah
I can see it in your eyes
You've got those bright baby blues
You don't see what you've got to gain
But you don't like to lose
You watch yourself from the sidelines
Like your life is a game
You don't mind playin', to keep yourself amused
I don't mean to be cruel, babe
But you're lookin', confused
Baby if you can hear me
Turn down your radio
There's just one thing
I want you to know
When you've been near me
I've felt the love
Stirrin' in my soul, yeah, yeah, yes I have
It's so hard to come by
That feeling of peace
This friend of mine said
"Close your eyes
And try a few of these"
I thought I flyin' like a bird
So far above my sorrow
But when I looked down
I was standin' on my knees
Now I need
Someone to help me
Someone to help me, please
Baby, if you need me
Like I know I need you
There's just one thing
I'll ask you to do
Take my hand and lead me
To the hole in your garden wall
And pull me through, pull me through
It's a little maudlin, but if you know the music, you might like it. And this youtube is awesome!
Your Bright Baby Blues by Jackson Browne
I'm sittin' down by the highway
Down by that highway side
Everybody's goin' somewhere
Ridin' just as fast as they could ride
I guess they got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified
Pray to God for me, babe, he can let me slide
Well, I've been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast I run
I can never seem to get away from me
No matter where I am
I can't help thinkin', I'm just a day away
Where I wanna be
Now I'm runnin' home, baby
Like a river to the sea
Baby, if you could see me
Out across this wilderness
There's just one thing
I was hopin' you might guess
Baby, you can free me
All in the power of your sweet tenderness
Yeah, yeah
I can see it in your eyes
You've got those bright baby blues
You don't see what you've got to gain
But you don't like to lose
You watch yourself from the sidelines
Like your life is a game
You don't mind playin', to keep yourself amused
I don't mean to be cruel, babe
But you're lookin', confused
Baby if you can hear me
Turn down your radio
There's just one thing
I want you to know
When you've been near me
I've felt the love
Stirrin' in my soul, yeah, yeah, yes I have
It's so hard to come by
That feeling of peace
This friend of mine said
"Close your eyes
And try a few of these"
I thought I flyin' like a bird
So far above my sorrow
But when I looked down
I was standin' on my knees
Now I need
Someone to help me
Someone to help me, please
Baby, if you need me
Like I know I need you
There's just one thing
I'll ask you to do
Take my hand and lead me
To the hole in your garden wall
And pull me through, pull me through
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Fruit upside down cake
So I think the thing to do with too soft or too sour fruit like plums these days is to make an upside down cake. I've been experimenting with this.
I've been using a glass pie dish, which is probably a mistake. I think it covers too much area, so the cake is not deep enough. OTOH, it's a nice shape. Maybe an 8" round cake pan would be better.
Cover the bottom with whatever fruit you want. If the fruit is sour, sprinkle it with sugar and also cinnamon if you want.
Make the cake - today I used
1 and 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
sift together
mix separately
2 eggs
1/2 cup melted butter or oil
1/2 cup milk (use juice if you want)
Add wet to dry and mix. Spread on the fruit. Cook at 400 for 25 minutes until cake is done.
Alen said this was not as good as last time, when I made it with butter. This week I used oil. But I think last week I used a different cake batter like this:
3 eggs
1/2 cup melted butter or oil
no milk
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
And baked at 350 for more time - about 40-45 minutes.
If you try either way, let me know how it turns out.
I've been using a glass pie dish, which is probably a mistake. I think it covers too much area, so the cake is not deep enough. OTOH, it's a nice shape. Maybe an 8" round cake pan would be better.
Cover the bottom with whatever fruit you want. If the fruit is sour, sprinkle it with sugar and also cinnamon if you want.
Make the cake - today I used
1 and 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
sift together
mix separately
2 eggs
1/2 cup melted butter or oil
1/2 cup milk (use juice if you want)
Add wet to dry and mix. Spread on the fruit. Cook at 400 for 25 minutes until cake is done.
Alen said this was not as good as last time, when I made it with butter. This week I used oil. But I think last week I used a different cake batter like this:
3 eggs
1/2 cup melted butter or oil
no milk
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
And baked at 350 for more time - about 40-45 minutes.
If you try either way, let me know how it turns out.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Brains and all that
So Gabi has been accepted to a gifted program that will take her out of school once a week - supposedly they chose the top 2% of students, which includes 3 kids from her 2nd grade class and we saw 2 others there from other 2nd grades. She proudly wore a "geek chick" T-shirt she had received as a birthday present to the introductory event.
To say I have mixed feelings about this is an understatement. Gabi is about 6 months older than I was when I was put ahead from 2nd grade into 3rd grade, also presumably because people thought I was smart. Already a late birthday December child, that placed me 18 months behind many of my classmates in age and maturity. Smart, however, they define it, does not mean socially able or able to cope with such a gap.
It also seems to me that many people I know who have not been defined as gifted have much cleaner houses than I do. In my imagination, they do not wake up in the morning thinking "how will I possibly cope with this day", nor do they scream at their children. In short, whatever intelligence I have has not necessarily served me so well. As my sister's best friend's mother said when she was in high school, "Judy may be book smart, but she lacks common sense." (Sorry Judy - she said it about you but I'm quoting it here about me.)
At some point, after I graduated college, my mother told me something that rocked my world. She said something like this, "It really doesn't matter how smart you are, it's how hard you work and apply yourself that makes a difference in life." You're kidding???? Why didn't anyone tell me this when I was a kid?
My friend Doug in college liked to say, "We are the uniquely gifted of our generation." Maybe he didn't like to say it, but he wrote it to me once. Another piece of information that even if true has not done me much good - it seems to me many people of my generation have done much more than I have - of course spending my college years and much of my 20s wasted probably didn't help my lifetime productivity.
So I'm not going to deny Gabi the opportunity to participate in this program, but if anything I feel like it is sealing her doom - she will be doomed to a cluttered home filled with books, where instead of putting away laundry, washing dishes and making kids lunches, she'll spend her time like me writing blog posts and wondering what being gifted means anyway. And then wondering why her house isn't cleaner. Duh.
To say I have mixed feelings about this is an understatement. Gabi is about 6 months older than I was when I was put ahead from 2nd grade into 3rd grade, also presumably because people thought I was smart. Already a late birthday December child, that placed me 18 months behind many of my classmates in age and maturity. Smart, however, they define it, does not mean socially able or able to cope with such a gap.
It also seems to me that many people I know who have not been defined as gifted have much cleaner houses than I do. In my imagination, they do not wake up in the morning thinking "how will I possibly cope with this day", nor do they scream at their children. In short, whatever intelligence I have has not necessarily served me so well. As my sister's best friend's mother said when she was in high school, "Judy may be book smart, but she lacks common sense." (Sorry Judy - she said it about you but I'm quoting it here about me.)
At some point, after I graduated college, my mother told me something that rocked my world. She said something like this, "It really doesn't matter how smart you are, it's how hard you work and apply yourself that makes a difference in life." You're kidding???? Why didn't anyone tell me this when I was a kid?
My friend Doug in college liked to say, "We are the uniquely gifted of our generation." Maybe he didn't like to say it, but he wrote it to me once. Another piece of information that even if true has not done me much good - it seems to me many people of my generation have done much more than I have - of course spending my college years and much of my 20s wasted probably didn't help my lifetime productivity.
So I'm not going to deny Gabi the opportunity to participate in this program, but if anything I feel like it is sealing her doom - she will be doomed to a cluttered home filled with books, where instead of putting away laundry, washing dishes and making kids lunches, she'll spend her time like me writing blog posts and wondering what being gifted means anyway. And then wondering why her house isn't cleaner. Duh.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Totally worthwhile dessert
My friends are going to say this has way too much sugar - adjust as you wish.
We have a big plum tree in our yard with these tiny plums. This is the first year I made something with them - it's called Plum Pudding Cake from the Betty Crocker cookbook.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F/170 C
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar (she said 3/4 cup)
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
Mix these
Add
3 tablespoons oil
1/2 cup milk or water
Mix
Put in a square pan - she says ungreased but I'm thinking greased might have worked better
On the top put
2 cups sliced plums
Mix one packed cup brown sugar (I only had demerara but brown would be better)
with one teaspoon cinamon
spread this over the plums
Now pour 1 cup boiling water on top
Bake for 60-70 minutes until the cake part is done.
Sounds weird, but it's delicious. I'll let you see yourself how it turns out.
We have a big plum tree in our yard with these tiny plums. This is the first year I made something with them - it's called Plum Pudding Cake from the Betty Crocker cookbook.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F/170 C
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar (she said 3/4 cup)
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
Mix these
Add
3 tablespoons oil
1/2 cup milk or water
Mix
Put in a square pan - she says ungreased but I'm thinking greased might have worked better
On the top put
2 cups sliced plums
Mix one packed cup brown sugar (I only had demerara but brown would be better)
with one teaspoon cinamon
spread this over the plums
Now pour 1 cup boiling water on top
Bake for 60-70 minutes until the cake part is done.
Sounds weird, but it's delicious. I'll let you see yourself how it turns out.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The last time I saw Grandma
Yesterday was my grandmother's yahrzeit. Around the time she died, I wrote in my journal about my last visit with her. I wanted to publish it but couldn't really work on it. These days publishing is so much easier. But I'm not sure where my journal is.
And I'm still afraid, perhaps more afraid because this is more public than some small lesbian journal. A friend describes the "rolling the grave factor" and how she will do things that would cause her parents to roll once, but not more than once.
My grandmother was not shy to state her opinions. But I'm not sure I can convey the love and the pathos of our last meeting, or do justice to who she was when I describe it.
So let me start here - I had one grandparent for 22 years. Grandma was larger than life in part because encounters with her never ended there - they were always the subject of extended family conversations, often long after the visit and certainly for the first week or so. A certain amount of decompression was always necessary, and analyzing, describing and talking about Grandma was a family pastime.
Grandma was formidable. My dad explained to me that she had strong opinions but no higher education and that when one doesn't have higher education, convention becomes more important. I'm sure that's part of it. Grandma left school to work at either 12 or 14 - my aunt says it was age 12. But prior to that also, Grandma was highly alert for what it would take to succeed in America and absorbed every possible lesson available. I wrote more about this at her yahrzeit last year - you'll find it under family history.
Grandma lived to be 93. In the last few years of her life, she lost some of her fight. It was a great relief and at the same time very painful to see. Grandma had always been able to shoot to the heart, as she did when she said to me when I was in college, "you should get Judy your sister to show you how to put on make up so you can get more boyfriends" and when I said, "I have plenty of boyfriends Grandma" she had the perfect retort "yes, but they aren't Jewish."
But at the end, the zingers were gone. The stories were gone. I went to see her in Florida in 1995 and I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I gathered my courage, and I told her about Alen.
It goes without saying that Grandma was homophobic, with the reflexive homophobia of her generation and of someone who cared so much for convention. The gender issues raised by the women's movement were a constant challenge to her, along with her career-oriented daughter-in-law (my mom). When my brother and sister went down to visit her and my brother was about 11 or 13, Grandma said he should not use creme rinse on his hair and told my mom it would make him gay.
So talking to Grandma took some courage on my part. It went something like this, "Grandma I've met someone I want to share my life with, it's a woman, her name is Alen. We are going to have a wedding. I hope you will come."
"Grandma, remember so-and-so, who I brought to Florida a few years ago. You really liked her. She was also my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian."
I don't remember the responses to this part, but they weren't real positive.
At one point I said, "Look Grandma, you have lots of different kinds of people in your family. You have lawyers, you have dentists, you have lesbians". Grandma said in a wry tone, "Well the lesbians I could do without." She didn't mean me she could do without. She meant me being a lesbian. I got that. I'll never forget her tone, her laugh. It wasn't a criticism of me, it was a statement about how much change a person can handle in nearly 100 years of living.
The next morning I tried again. "Grandma, I hope that you can be happy for me. I have found someone I want to spend my life with." She said something like, "Well I don't see why you have to have a wedding."
As I write this, I'm only thinking two things. One is how much I loved Grandma and how I still miss her after 16 years. And the other is a kind of awe of myself that (after I had been out for more than 6 years), I actually had the guts to come out to her. I'm so grateful that I got to tell her I found my life partner before she died.
Grandma, as I sat crying in bed telling you this on the morning of March whatever it was 1995, I had no doubt in my mind how much you loved me and how much I loved you. As I sit crying writing this now, I miss you still.
And I'm still afraid, perhaps more afraid because this is more public than some small lesbian journal. A friend describes the "rolling the grave factor" and how she will do things that would cause her parents to roll once, but not more than once.
My grandmother was not shy to state her opinions. But I'm not sure I can convey the love and the pathos of our last meeting, or do justice to who she was when I describe it.
So let me start here - I had one grandparent for 22 years. Grandma was larger than life in part because encounters with her never ended there - they were always the subject of extended family conversations, often long after the visit and certainly for the first week or so. A certain amount of decompression was always necessary, and analyzing, describing and talking about Grandma was a family pastime.
Grandma was formidable. My dad explained to me that she had strong opinions but no higher education and that when one doesn't have higher education, convention becomes more important. I'm sure that's part of it. Grandma left school to work at either 12 or 14 - my aunt says it was age 12. But prior to that also, Grandma was highly alert for what it would take to succeed in America and absorbed every possible lesson available. I wrote more about this at her yahrzeit last year - you'll find it under family history.
Grandma lived to be 93. In the last few years of her life, she lost some of her fight. It was a great relief and at the same time very painful to see. Grandma had always been able to shoot to the heart, as she did when she said to me when I was in college, "you should get Judy your sister to show you how to put on make up so you can get more boyfriends" and when I said, "I have plenty of boyfriends Grandma" she had the perfect retort "yes, but they aren't Jewish."
But at the end, the zingers were gone. The stories were gone. I went to see her in Florida in 1995 and I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I gathered my courage, and I told her about Alen.
It goes without saying that Grandma was homophobic, with the reflexive homophobia of her generation and of someone who cared so much for convention. The gender issues raised by the women's movement were a constant challenge to her, along with her career-oriented daughter-in-law (my mom). When my brother and sister went down to visit her and my brother was about 11 or 13, Grandma said he should not use creme rinse on his hair and told my mom it would make him gay.
So talking to Grandma took some courage on my part. It went something like this, "Grandma I've met someone I want to share my life with, it's a woman, her name is Alen. We are going to have a wedding. I hope you will come."
"Grandma, remember so-and-so, who I brought to Florida a few years ago. You really liked her. She was also my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian."
I don't remember the responses to this part, but they weren't real positive.
At one point I said, "Look Grandma, you have lots of different kinds of people in your family. You have lawyers, you have dentists, you have lesbians". Grandma said in a wry tone, "Well the lesbians I could do without." She didn't mean me she could do without. She meant me being a lesbian. I got that. I'll never forget her tone, her laugh. It wasn't a criticism of me, it was a statement about how much change a person can handle in nearly 100 years of living.
The next morning I tried again. "Grandma, I hope that you can be happy for me. I have found someone I want to spend my life with." She said something like, "Well I don't see why you have to have a wedding."
As I write this, I'm only thinking two things. One is how much I loved Grandma and how I still miss her after 16 years. And the other is a kind of awe of myself that (after I had been out for more than 6 years), I actually had the guts to come out to her. I'm so grateful that I got to tell her I found my life partner before she died.
Grandma, as I sat crying in bed telling you this on the morning of March whatever it was 1995, I had no doubt in my mind how much you loved me and how much I loved you. As I sit crying writing this now, I miss you still.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Uncle Jack found
For those of you who followed the family history thread, I do feel I have been remiss in not reporting that my new found cousin Andrew (from my grandfather Julius's side) found my missing great Uncle Jack (from my grandmother Zena's side) in a 1930 census, living in New York, and married to an English woman named Edith who had a son, Robert Anglin. Oh how I wish I could find Robert - he was 6 in 1930 - he would be now 87 if he's still alive. Edith was from England, probably not Jewish, thus perhaps the reason for the estrangement.
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