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September 21, 2005
Seraphic Nanny
"Why is it raining!?"
Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to drive Offspring #3 to school, she looked out the window and demanded an answer to her question. Actually, she wasn't really asking a question, she was just letting me know that she was annoyed with the weather. Afterall, this is California and it is just not supposed to rain in September.
Nevertheless, I am a parent and when one of my children asks a question I feel duty bound to answer. It's my job to impart knowledge, wisdom, truth.
"It's raining because HaShem is crying."
Offspring #3 pins me with a look that's like: Did Daddy really say that?
It takes me a moment to realize what I have just said; it takes me a moment to remember where this has come from.
Nanny.
My grandmother. My mother's mother: Chana Gittel, Z'L.
There are people in my life who have influenced me so deeply that it's impossible to measure. Nanny is one of these people. She was always there, a solid and sturdy woman who spoke heavily accented English, and whose disciplined and self-assured manner was the keystone of our family.
I remember that Nanny used to teach herself English by reading Charles Dickens out loud.
I remember that Nanny used to make omelettes for me and then cut out smiling faces in the eggs.
I remember that when my parents went away for Shabbos, I always stayed with Nanny and Aunt Pearlie and being with them was heaven for they spoiled me shamelessly.
I remember Nanny telling me that back in Europe she carried a bayonet in order to defend her children.
I remember that whenever I was sick my mother Z'L would call Nanny before calling the doctor.
I remember that Nanny spoke proudly of her years as a teenager in Berlin. She was employed as a seamstress in the French Atelier Department of Kaufhaus auf Westens, the finest department store in Berlin. She may have been the only Jew employed in the store at the time. She proudly said that her department made clothes for the Kaiser's daughters. Nanny did some modeling of the clothes because she and one of the Kaiser's daughters wore the same size. Nanny was very proud of this connection to royalty.
I remember as a child firmly believing that Nanny would never die and when she did I was an adult, married to Karen for six months and still I waited for her to rise from the dead. It took several days for me to realize that she was truly, irrevocably gone. It was a shattering experience. Our family was never the same. It was as if everyone was nudged out of orbit. Nanny was born in 1892. She was niftar in 1978. She witnessed two world wars, saw Europe descend into incomprehensible madness. Nanny also loved America and taught me to appreciate what a wonderful country this is, especially for Jews.
I think about Nanny every single day and sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can still see her sitting in her little apartment, looking out the window, as rain falls on Brooklyn, her chin resting on the head of her cane.
"Nanny, why is it raining?" I ask.
"It is raining," Nanny says, "Because G-d is crying."
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at September 21, 2005 08:27 AM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
What a poignant and warm portrait you've painted for us, Robert. Not every one of us is fortunate enough to have or to have had a Zaidy/Bubby or even a "Nanny" in our lives -- thanks for sharing yours!
Posted by: Pearl at September 21, 2005 10:12 AM
Pearl:
The portrait is still incomplete. I have yet to write about TP who lived with Nanny most of her adult life. Two great ladies.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at September 21, 2005 10:28 AM
Robert, I really hope you transcribe these memories into a book. I'd love to be able to turn the pages, and watch my kids reading your words.
I'd love to be able to have a shabbos table talk with my family, sparked by Mr. Avrech's latest thoughts.
Thank you for making the intangible and meaningful experiences of life, so meaningfully tangible.
Posted by: Yael at September 21, 2005 10:43 AM
Robert, thanks for sharing that memory of your Nanny. I too, was fortunate to have not only one, but all four grandparents well into my 20's. Being that my father died when I was 10, it was all the more important to have those connections. I watched my grandparents lose a child, and yet never noticed their pain. My grandfather wrote love letters to my grandmother until the day he died, and never missed an opportunity to tell the latest joke. All four of my grandparents taught me about survival, humor, and family loyalty. I can only imagine what it was like to travel by boat, far from your home (Russia) to a world so different, and manage to survive so gracefully. I'm so thankful for my relationship with all four of them.
Posted by: Randi at September 21, 2005 10:44 AM
Yael:
I actually published a little book about Chana Gitel a few years ago, but it's just for the family. Thanks so much for your interest.
Posted by: Robert at September 21, 2005 11:07 AM
I was fortunate enough to know my grandparents and great-grandparents well. My great-grandmother died when I was 13, and I can still picture her untying her grey braids which were pinned to the back of her head, to show us how long her hair really was. So clear and vivid a memory. How old were you when your Nanny passed away?
Posted by: mcaryeh at September 21, 2005 12:29 PM
This was beautiful, Robert. What a special and wonderful woman.
I had all 4 of my grandparents until a few years ago. Only 1 is left. I miss the other 3 every single day, esp. that they can't be here to watch my beautiful daughters grow.
Posted by: Stacey at September 21, 2005 03:25 PM
This was another very special piece. Thanks so much for warming my heart today. I don't know if you realize quite the affect that you have on people.
Posted by: JC at September 21, 2005 07:15 PM
Kaufhaus des Westens, aka KaDeWe; it still exists, I know it well. How incredible that your grandmother worked there- what a tiny world we live in!
Great post, as always. Thank you.
Posted by: Alice at September 21, 2005 07:53 PM
Alice:
The store still exists! Imagine that! I had no idea. Thanks so much for telling me.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at September 21, 2005 10:21 PM
Robert,
That was beautiful. At the young/old age of 36 I am privileged to still have three living grandparents. More than ever I find myself listening to their stories and I get more pleasure than I can express from watching them with my children.
Posted by: Jack at September 21, 2005 11:29 PM
Jack:
You are a fortunate man. Don't forget to take notes.
Posted by: Robert Avrech at September 21, 2005 11:37 PM
Hate to disappoint you but the KADEWE you see
today is a completely new store built over the old one! It has always had the reputation of being a store carrying the finest of merchandise. I must add
that my mother was a superb "tailor" until the day
she died.......always had a eye for fashion and
what was appropriate for "ladies and gentlemen" to wear! No SHMATAS!!!!!!
Posted by: T.P. at September 22, 2005 11:01 AM
Thanks for sharing your recollections of Nanny, Robert. As someone who lost all of her grandparents before the age of 4 -- I only have one memory of the one who lived long enough to see me born -- I love living vicariously.
Posted by: Esther at September 22, 2005 08:20 PM