Commencing

I have been keeping the UPS guy very busy lately.  Birthday gifts.  Graduation gifts.  Bar Mitzvah gifts. Wedding gifts! (Read previous blog).  I am not a shopper, but at least I know my way around the Internet.  We've been celebrating a lot.




In May my daughter graduated from Brandeis University.

It was the weekend after Mother's Day.  The weather was spectacular.


The build up to the weekend was intense ... May is such a busy time.  Our youngest son just celebrated his 18th birthday and was in the midst of his AP tests, proms, and Hebrew High School Graduations.  His finals and social life were colliding and crashing together and not leaving much time for trivial family obligations, but thankfully, his sister's graduation ranked high enough to carve out the entire weekend.


Our older son, who turned 25 the following weekend, was juggling a full time job, two grad classes and a part time job at a synagogue, but had to miss the last day of Hebrew School to celebrate graduation day with his sister. Since he lives in the Boston area, he didn't have to travel so he also managed to squeeze in a Bar Mitzvah that weekend and of course finish his lesson plans for the week.  (Did I mention he is putting himself through grad school?)


I think the blog would go on forever if I told you about what my husband and I were doing.  But to give you a snapshot, it was an incredibly busy time for my husband that required quite a few late nights and a lot of travel.  And as for me, I found myself at a crossroads again.  Certain things this year didn't turn out as I had hoped jobwise, and I was in conversations with new leads, sending out resumes, and trying to finish up with the work I had left to do in the current situations.  I had this feeling I was running out of time... both at my current work, to get things done, and out there in the job market to find new employment.  And for the first time, I had heard the feedback that "they were looking for someone younger" when I did not get a call back for a particularly good position. Not legal, maybe not fair, but reality. Youch.


Back to our story.


An enormous kvell-point (hey, that's catchy!) was the fact that my parents and my in-laws were with us to join us for the festivities and nachas shepping (okay, now that sounded better in my head than it looks on the screen).  We had a great weekend in and around Boston, catching up with friends, cousins and each other.  Family dinners were events that the best party planner on the planet could not have more skillfully arranged.  


That's not to say that there weren't some awkward moments.  My dad ordered an expensive bottle of wine and the newbie waiter poured everyone a glass and the bottle was empty before my father got even a taste.  My mother-in-law spilled that very same wine on her jacket and nearly refused to be in the great group photo you see below.  (You'll notice she's in the back row, despite her diminutive height, making sure the stain is covered by the graduate.) 

 There was an incredible amount of phone calling and texting back and forth between all of us to make sure we all made it  to each spot at the right time.  (What DID we do before smart phones???)  


And, on Sunday, my father-in-law, who is 87, was finding it difficult to walk to the next event... which was up a steep hill.  We had just missed the shuttle, and the line for the next one was long, and in the hot sun.  I went to the police and politely asked for a ride for just my in-laws, and maybe some water for them, as the rest of us could walk.  As the police cars were all being used he quickly radioed the Brandeis Emergency Team, and in no time we are surrounded by the crackerjack squad of uniformed Brandeis students who all had walkie-talkies and little else.  They had no available car, van or other mode of transportation; no water, and no chair for my father-in-law.  In the meantime, my husband, having assessed the ineptitude of the situation, had walked the half mile to our car, and is back for his dad.  Then the pre-doctors and pre-lawyers, having feared the worst, walked my father-in-law up the hill to the car, and the crisis was averted, as we rehydrated with the water that is always in the car.  As we parted ways, one of the young squad members, a bright Brandeis junior, said to us, "think of it this way... in 10 years we will all be doctors."  Well, there's a relief.


The weekend culminated in the big event.  Graduation.  We sat in the bleachers, far removed from my daughter, though I did see her a few times from where we were sitting.  As the seniors came marching in I was flooded with feelings. 


First, my pride in my daughter, graduating with honors from this  school known for its academic excellence.  She had a great four years, and I could not believe that this day was here.  I looked around at the faces of my family, and then at the faces of the others around me... and I realized that we must all be feeling the same feelings... bittersweet really does describe it.  We are all pausing to recognize that a milestone has been reached.  I glanced at my older son, who had graduated from Brandeis just three years earlier.  Was he remembering those feelings his sister must be feeling? Was he amazed, as I was, how much he had done on his own since his graduation?  I looked over at my younger son.  His graduation from high school was a month away   Was he thinking about going to college?  Working at camp?  Finding a snack?


And I couldn't help but think of my own graduation, from this same institution...31 years ago... ours was outside on a beautiful sunny day, the Sunday after Mother's Day.  Rumor has it that a few of my classmates took to the bong prior to commencement ceremonies, but just to clear up any misunderstanding here, those heavy-lidded looks and glazed-over eyes were caused by the soporific speech of a Mr. Walter Mondale, using us to slingshot his Presidential campaign into the headlines...of the Brandeis paper "The Justice" at the very least.


I remember being eager to be done with school and get on with my jobs: the Unit Head for a summer camp, and then in the fall, the program director at the Hillel at Northeastern University.  I sat at my graduation and ignored the words being spoken at us.  I had sewn pockets into my graduation gown and tucked a water pistol into one, and a container of bubbles into the other.  I had fun playing during the ceremonies, as carefree as I'd ever be.  I had my whole life ahead of me.


Now I looked at the row of robed graduates and tried to find my daughter.  How much more seriously had she taken her studies?  Her graduation?  I wondered what her face might look like now as she listened to the speeches.  


I listened carefully.  "Carpe Diem." "Go for it." "Take chances." That was the theme.  In a world where finding a job is so difficult, and so much emphasis is placed on the almighty dollar, these kids were also told that they might never do as well as their parents.  I thought about my daughter, and my two sons... and thought about people's definition of "doing well."   What kind of a world were they inheriting?


The President of Brandeis gave a great speech.  I have attached links to his speech and the other speeches at the end of this blog.  But here is the part of that speech that really got to me:

As for risk-taking, is there any greater risk in this society than the shear risk of being yourself? Of trying approaches to life without certainty of success or outcome? Here we can refer to two great modern philosophers, if you will. One, the great Dr. Martin Luther King, who said that faith is being willing to take the first step without knowing that the rest of the staircase is there. The other, another great philosopher, Dr. J., Julius Erving, who some of you will remember invented playing basketball above the rim. It seems to me that if we’re gathered in Gosman, we should talk a little basketball. Dr. J., when he played his college ball not far from here at the University of Massachusetts, was cautioned by his coach once, “Son, never leave you feet without knowing where you’re going to come down.” He said, “Sir, I can’t play basketball that way.” And you can’t live your lives that way either. 

As I sat in those bleachers, watching my daughter and her peers, a lot of my life was unclear, and a lot of decisions were ahead of me.  That was the same for all of them, I realized, and that little piece of wisdom rang as true for me as I hope it did for those college seniors.   


They have their whole lives ahead of them, and I guess it's okay to leap before you look sometimes.  It's scary but it's exciting too.


After graduation, we waited for my daughter and I delighted to see a global celebration on that giant lawn outside the gym at Brandeis University.  Families of every different background, speaking every different language were hugging and taking pictures and appreciating the accomplishments of their special one.  As I got out of my own head for a moment and took a mental picture of this, it was really something to celebrate.  We were all celebrating the future.


My daughter has her whole life ahead of her.






Click here for the official Brandeis Commencement slide show.







Yesterday my son graduated high school, and the myriad of feelings arose again.  He was all smiles, and waved to us in the crowd.  He is ready to move on, and ready to be at camp and then college.




Again it's bittersweet, as we are about to learn what it is like to have no children at home, and parenting will take on a new meaning.  I sat and pondered the dichotomy between endings and beginnings. It all happened so fast.  

I still have some giant decisions to make. 
These events have given me time to see that my most important job, raising my children, continues to give me the most pride.   Now that they are all reaching their milestones and about to leave the house, I'll get back to my giant post-it pad of pros and cons and decide what the next step is for me.


Last week I attended a wonderful seminar, Teva, which engages learners in three and a half days of classes and experiential learning combining Judaism and the environment. At the conference, I met Theo, a sophomore in college, during a  class where we went into nature with our cameras and matched our photos with pieces of text.  (My masterpiece is below... )


We got to chatting on the lunch line.
He isn't sure what he wants to do, not sure what to major in.
"You have your whole life ahead of you," I tell him, as that's what I've been thinking about and writing about lately.
He looks at me with a confused expression.
"Don't you?"  Theo asks me.
"You're right. I do. Thanks for reminding me."

This idyllic spot is Suprise Lake Camp, in Putnam County, NY, the site of
the Teva Summer Seminar.

Click here to read Brandeis President Fred Lawrence's address.
Click here to read the Commencement address by student Daniel Liebman

Dear Uncle Jerry

Dear OUJ,
  First of all, you know we mean no disrespect by this nickname... O.U.J.  It stands for Old Uncle Jerry.  When the kids were little, we used it to differentiate between you and my Dad's brother, the other Uncle Gerry.  He also seems old to them, but not as old as you were.  It was meant to just remind them which uncle we meant, but it became a real term of endearment, as you became more and more a part of my kids' lives.  You were really more like another "great-grandfather" to them, more than a great-uncle in the way you paid attention to them, doted on them and made them feel loved.  But this is not about about my kids (for once).  I'm writing to tell you about one of your grandkids today.
   I know how you loved your grandchildren.  One thing you never did was boast about them to me when my kids were around.  You had a way of making my kids feel like they were the most special and right now I wish I had the words then to thank you for that.
   But the photos you showed me when I visited you by myself of your wonderful grandkids, my cousins' children, showed me your deep love for them.  You and I would catch up and fill in the pieces about what we had heard about each one.   Laughing about  Alisa's sass, and how her little sister Anna was trying to emulate that.  And how Auntie Jan would have so enjoyed these two little girls who joined our family after she had passed away.
   Or talking about the three boys you probably knew the best and your hopes for them... E, A and P... and just how proud you were of the way they were growing into young, handsome men.  You never admitted it, but I saw the way your eyes teared up when you talked about the way their dad cared for you. I hope that E, A and P know how deep your love was for them.  Maybe I'll tell them.  It's that mushy grown-up stuff that I have to do once in a while, I can't leave it all to my mom.  I know you looked at all three of those boys and you saw your daughter's face in each of theirs... and you know what a gift each life is.  She and I have remained very close, you'll be happy to know.
   And then we have three more radiant wonderful grandchildren... each of whom I have been in touch with throughout their lives, but am now getting to know as young adults.
  Uncle Jerry, you would be so proud.  M graduated college and is trying to figure out what to do with her life.  This is a common theme among college grads!  I was lucky enough to see a new piece of her artwork and it was stunning.
  Her big sister Rachel lives near me, so I see her more frequently.  Rachel has become a real New Yorker, and has alluded to the fact that she's handling life's challenges. Anyone who meets her would definitely agree!  But the real reason I'm writing today is to tell you about your grandson, Josh.
  This gorgeous golden child... the middle child of your eldest, my cousin Mike.
  A people pleaser.
  I don't know whether Mike, or anyone, told you, but Josh went through a really rough patch, Uncle Jerry.  Who knows why. When you died, I think it might have been unclear if Josh would have lived to see the year 2012.   I don't know if you knew about this.  I know I didn't, because unlike some of us in the family, my cousin Mike is a "holder-inner."  So we didn't know that Josh was fighting his demons and struggling the way he was.  We saw him at your birthday party that summer, and he was delightful and sweet, as always.  I don't know where he was in his battle at that point.  I would like to ask him about his story sometime, but this past weekend was not the time.
  Uncle Jerry, I'm writing to tell you that Josh is okay.  More than okay.  This "boy" is a young man now, and he met  woman named Danica.  Danica's family is nice, warm and welcoming.  They are Jewish, and they are from New Jersey!  I think you might have liked them. I have only met them (Danica and her parents) a few times, but they feel like a long lost part of the family. There is real love there.
  And here's the last piece... O.U.J. here's why I am writing to you tonight.  As you know, Mike and his ex-wife Katie did not raise their kids with any strong religious connection at all, but from what I remember, their compromise was to join a Unitarian church, so their kids would have something.  You never mentioned this at all.  You never even spoke of religion with me, or how your grandkids were being raised.  But Josh has spent that last year studying with a Rabbi and taking classes and has "converted" back to Judaism. I just know you would be so proud to know this, and your mother, Grand-mom Mildred, would have too.  His other great-grandparents, my grandparents Madeleine and Benjamin would have also been so happy, though in their way, they would not have showed it very obviously.  I guess that's where cousin Mike gets it from.  At one point I whispered to Josh how proud his family would have been to know that he was coming home to his roots.
  He married Danica on Sunday, Uncle Jerry.  Under a huppah that was decorated by his now mother-in-law.  During the ceremony, a butterfly landed on the huppah and seemed to watch the service for a few minutes.  If I were a little more sentimental, I might even think it was your spirit keeping an eye on things, but I am not that corny.
  Josh wore a yarmulke with his Hebrew name stitched on it in white thread.  He took the name of your father, Yishai.
  During the cocktail hour, I noticed that your daughter had placed lots of great photos in the rooms of the mansion where the wedding reception took place.  The one that really caught my eye was one I had never seen.  It was you and your father, in tennis sweaters with huge smiles, and a twinkle in both of your eyes that matched that of Josh's.  Bright, alert and brimming with promise.


  I just wanted to let you know... you would have loved it.

  I've gotta get going, but know that you are always in my thoughts.  Here are a few pictures from the ceremony.


  We miss you so much,


  Love,




 Juliet

can you see the butterfly in the upper left?

Josh and Danica