Our family at Seth's Bat Mitzvah in Tampa
Sharing it all with Jessica...
“Would you and Uncle Art be willing to read the Prayer for Peace at the service tomorrow afternoon?” she asked.
I felt tears come to my eyes and replied, “Of course, we’d be glad to.” She handed me a photocopied piece of paper with the Prayer and reminded me if we had any questions to ask before the service on Saturday afternoon.
It took me a minute to compose myself as she walked away. I was touched by her request that we be part of the Bar Mitzvah service. We had participated in small ways once or twice before at other family events but usually it was Art who was asked. Perhaps I was overly emotional because of the family gathering for the weekend. I was thinking all weekend about our 45th wedding anniversary. Some of the same family members including Hilary, when she was 4 years old, had been at our wedding on Feb. 16th, 1975 in Orange, Connecticut. I had come into Art’s family 45 years ago and yet for much of that time felt like the outsider. (Art was the first in his family to marry outside the Jewish faith.) At Seth’s Bar Mitzvah in Tampa last weekend the invisible barrier was not there. I was a part of this warm and loving Jewish family that was Art's family.
Growing up in South America, I was envious of the culture built on strong extended family connections . I saw it all around me from the time I was very young. I knew that was not something I had in my life. We had no family in Chile, Peru, Argentina, Brazil, and Colombia – all countries we lived in until I went away to college. Instead, my adventuresome parents had willingly left home in their early 20’s to go far away and start their own lives.
Dad took a job in Bolivia and moved to Chile while Mother waited to get a passport for 2 years because it was war time. She traveled to Chile in 1944 to marry Dad in a Chilean Civil Service ceremony in Spanish. “I didn’t understand a word,” she said. “I didn’t care because I was happy to finally be married.”
They had their reasons for wanting to go far away and leave family behind. Mother was the shy, quiet, third sibling growing up under the shadow of a beautiful and popular older sister who garnered all the attention. Dad, was the unwanted baby whose Mother died at 29 and whose father left him to be raised by grandparents in their fifties and already old. He was the “poor” relation who was determined to go as far as it took to prove himself. Other than occasional visits which we made every few years to the States, we never lived close to family. Mom and Dad said they never regretted the path they chose.
Mother often said to me, “It’s not all as great as it looks”, when I would express envy over the Latin American multigenerational families who seemed to rely and enjoy each other so much. I didn’t believe her. To me my Argentine or Brazilian friends had a real sense of belonging which I never felt. They were loved and had a place in a large extended family. Cousins grew up together, aunts and uncles grew old together, and grandparents were respected and cared for by all.
When I married Art we went back to South America to live in Santiago, Chile, and then in Costa Rica and Manila, Philippines. As an adult living in these countries I still found myself the outsider looking in to the extended family culture . I had a baby in far-away Chile but no siblings, cousins, even grandparents close by for family support. That was always missing in my life.
I remember Art’s mother, Ceil, telling the story of finding outt she was having twins. “I came home and cried,” she told me. “I didn’t know how we’d manage with two babies.” Then she added that when the twins (Art and Norm), were born, her sisters came every day to help with the feedings and to offer moral support. I loved that story and still think about it today.
Going back to Argentina recently reminded me of my longing to be part of an extended family. I asked my Argentine classmate Eva, whose husband has dementia, “How do you manage on your own?” She told me matter-of-factly that everyone in her family helps her out. Her granddaughters come to sit with their grandfather when she needs to be away from the house because she won’t leave Brian alone. They come to dinner at her house every Friday night for the shabbat dinner. In turn, Eva helps her recently widowed daughter financially and in any way she can. They are in and out and part of each other’s lives every day.
My Anglo Argentine friend, Teeny, who lived across the street from me when we were growing up, has a husband dying of lung cancer. She married an Argentine, against her Anglo parents’ wishes, had four children and has 15 grandchildren. It has been a happy marriage. When I saw her in November, Jaime was going through a difficult time with chemotherapy She told me her daughter, Dolores, had come to stay with her, and her grandchildren from “the campo” who are going to college in Buenos Aires, board with her. She has caring family all around her now that her parents are gone and her beloved older brother has died. She will always be cared for as the matriarch of the big family she and Jaime created together.
Last weekend we travelled to Tampa for Seth’s Bar Mitzvah. (Seth is our great nephew and grandson of Art’s sister.) Like the many family gatherings for Bar, Bat Mitzvah’s, weddings, and funerals I have been to during our 45 year marriage, this one was no different and just as elaborate and fun. Almost everyone in Art’s extended family came from Colorado, Connecticut and Massachusetts. All the cousins were there. We hadn’t seen most of them for several years since the last event. This time, Hayden, Jessica, and Austin were there. I liked watching Hayden reconnecting with family and loving being a part of an extended family which he did not grow up with either.
Hayden & Art
Our party guy...
Trying not to look too hard at each other for those signs of how we are growing older, we were genuinely delighted to be with family again. Art and I are now part of the “oldest generation” in the family. As we took part in the weekend events leading up to the Bar Mitzvah and the celebration afterwards it reminded me how I have always admired the importance of family in the Jewish culture. Now, married to Art for 45 years I can say I am very much a part of Art’s family
As we said our good- byes and thank yous to Hilary and Jeff, they reminded us, “Don’t forget, we’ll see you back here for Arielle and Alyssa’s Bat Mitzvah two years from now.” Hilary seconded Jeff as she hugged us both. I felt embraced by family…Art’s family…but now my own.
Family together in Tampa....
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