This post does not fit neatly into one of my regular categories; so, I have created a new one called "It's Personal".
This week is the second yahrzeit (death anniversary) for my Bubbie (grandmother). She died at 93 on April 1, 2010, while Jon and I were in Asia.
I miss you, Bubbie. In your honor, I am publishing the tribute I wrote for you the day after you died because I could not attend the funeral. Here's to all of our great work, and remember that the world only spins forward - let our great work continue!
A Tribute to My Bubbie Florence Davidson Shafner
By Brian Fishbone (written April 2010)
One tough broad. A charitable heart. A quiet force. A Davidson, Shafner, Fishbone, Gensburg, and Hirshman family institution. My Bubbie Florence Davidson Shafner.
Florence Shafner played many roles in her life – daughter, wife, mother, volunteer leader for the Red Cross and Hadassah, teacher, friend, and even poet (did you know she wrote limericks? She shared a few with me while I was in university). But today I will focus on the most important role she played in my life – Bubbie. In this tribute, I will share some personal memories from my childhood and adulthood, as well as personal reflection.
Let me first give you some context as to where I crafted this pseudo-eulogy (Bubbie did not want one – so we won’t call it an official eulogy). I am in Malaysia right now, on a bus from Kuala Lumpur to Melaka. Jon and I are on our month-long holiday in Southeast Asia and Western Australia; we currently work as English teachers in Seoul, Korea. And it makes complete sense for me to write this tribute here. Why? Because Bubbie is directly connected to this experience in at least two ways.
· Bubbie was a teacher, and the seeds of my love of teaching were in part planted by her (as well as many others in this family, including my mom).
· Bubbie and Zadie (oh yes, there’s no talking about Florence without some mention of Rapheal, my Zadie Shafner – there will be memories of him in this tribute as well) were the first supporters of my world travel experiences. They paid for my 5-week teen tour of Israel (as a bar mitzvah gift) at age 17, a trip that began my transformation to adulthood, and they quietly helped to finance my summer study abroad in Sevilla, Spain while I was at Muhlenberg (I would find this out much later).
And all they ever asked in return after a grandchild’s trip was that the grandchild go over to 207 Gardner Avenue when he or she came back and share photos and stories. World travellers themselves, they relished hearing about the world through the narratives of their grandchildren.
Wow, that last sentence made me cry a little. I miss them both very much.
Okay, back to our story. Now that you have some context for this tribute, let’s get on with it. I think I’ll tell the story in two parts, first through a child’s eyes and then from the lens of adulthood.
CHILDHOOD
Let’s begin with childhood. Here are three of my sweetest childhood memories of my Bubbie.
1. 207 Gardner Avenue
First, allow me to paint a picture of this grand New London, CT house in the 1980s when I was growing up. Bubbie and Zadie lived a mere three minutes from our house at 2 Mary Butler Drive in Waterford, CT; so, we were there often. We would make a special trip if Mom had to give something to Bubbie or Zadie, or just stop by if we saw either of their cars in the driveway.
Depending on the time of day, you could usually predict where to find Bubbie in the house. In the daytime – in the living room reading a book and/or listening to classical music on the sofa or sitting at the kitchen table playing solitaire. Closer to mealtime, she would be cooking. In the evenings, she would be in the cellar watching TV (often very loudly, as she was hard of hearing and refused to wear a hearing aid for many, many years). And if Zadie was home (he seemed busier in retirement – from managing the orthodox Jewish cemetery to driving across town to save 5 cents on paper towels), he could be found reading the newspaper in his yellow chair in the living room, reading through the mail or Aunt Hannah or Uncle Phil’s papers at the kitchen table (always in the chair closest to the phone so that he could pick it up quickly!), or perhaps in summer tending to his garden in the way-backyard.
Oh, how I loved those visits. I remember them vividly. Their house was a child’s delight in so many ways, but most importantly, a visit to Bubbie and Zadie’s meant one thing – SUGAR! There was an unlimited supply of Andes chocolate mint candies, Pearson Coffee Nips, and flat Coca-Cola (oh, the syrup-y goodness of it!) for Marianne and me. And let’s not forget the treasure trove that was their cellar, from 1950s copies of Life Magazine to countless gallons of apple juice and rolls of paper towels bought on sale lining the back bar.
And no matter how many times we visited a week, Bubbie never tired of seeing us. Yes, William may have been grandson numero uno, especially to Zadie, but Marianne and I enjoyed a year-round closeness that I will treasure forever. They were ALWAYS pleased to see us.
Now a quick footnote. I loved visiting Bubbie’s by day or night, but I hated staying there overnight, especially in the creaky old bedrooms upstairs. I swear they were haunted. If there was no other alternative and I had to sleep over, I insisted on sleeping downstairs in my mother’s old room (at that time Zadie’s “office”, if you call a mountain of papers in no discernable order an office!). But Bubbie was always patient with my dementia. It was never any trouble for her to clean the room up for me.
And my sister and I simply loved being in her presence. I can still feel today the warmth of her love for us, even in those early years of our lives. It has not faded, and it won’t in the future. Whether I was telling her about a recent “A” I got in history class or about something more mundane from my childhood world, she always demonstrated interest with active listening and follow-up questions.
2. Goldy’s Family Restaurant
Another place is special in the part of my memory that belongs to Bubbie and Zadie – Goldy’s Family Restaurant, which once resided on Colman St. in New London, CT (and is open yet again - updated April 2012). My father traveled often for work, and usually when he was out of town, on Wednesday nights (I believe that was the night of the weekly lobster special – very important to Zadie), they would take me, my mother, and my sister out to dinner there. What special times we had there! My fondest memory of Bubbie at Goldy’s involved her selflessness when it came to me. I always ordered the BBQ Chicken with fries, and no matter what she ordered, she always chose fries as the side dish so that I could have more of my favorite food. Even if she felt like a baked potato or vegetable, she never wavered. Always ordered French fries. Isn’t that a beautifully simple act of great love for a grandson?
Now, I should be fair to her. If you had asked her about her most salient memory of our dinners at Goldy’s, I am sure she would tell you it was when she ordered a beer with dinner one night. I had a big mouth at the time, and when I heard her order it, I told her plainly, “Bubbie, women don’t drink beer.” She laughed heartily and took it in stride. Or perhaps she’d muse about my limited, finicky diet. Always lettuce, carrot, celery, green pepper, and Chinese noodles with no dressing from the salad bar, the aforementioned BBQ Chicken and fries, and chocolate ice cream for dessert. Never any deviation – you could set your watch by my meal choices. In fact, when my diet expanded greatly in my 20s, I had trouble convincing her about the new foods I liked. The question would always be asked with a tone of utter shock, “Brian eats filet mignon? This I have to see!”
3. Christmas Day
And the last childhood memory of Bubbie that I want to share is of Christmas Day each year at 207 Gardner Avenue. At this point, some of you might raise an eyebrow – how in the world can Christmas Day be important to a bunch of Jews? That’s when we celebrated Chanukah at Bubbie and Zadie’s house, no matter when the actual holiday fell. After all, we were a practical pack – this was the one day everyone had off from work.
I think this was hers, and my, favorite day of the year. For the first part of the day, which I’ll refer to as the multi-course extravaganza, she toiled quietly in the kitchen behind the scenes and served food. We’d start at 1pm with champagne, and the appetizers were often the same – shrimp cocktail, pigs in a blanket, and chopped herring with crackers (I know, not exactly kosher!). Then, within an hour or so, the big feast commenced – salad, turkey, brisket, many sides, 2-3 desserts – the list could go on and on. And after dessert, I’d get the signal from her or someone else that it was time to open presents! I’d organize them all and distribute them one at a time to grateful recipients.
I could talk a lot about my love of that day each year, but this is about Bubbie. You know, Zadie often gets credit for keeping the family together, but Bubbie loved these gatherings just as much as he did. And the gang was all there at Christmas (and also at Thanksgiving, but that was at Aunt Bunny’s house) – Bubbie, Zadie, my parents, Marianne, me, Aunt Leslie, Uncle Robbie, sometimes William, Aunt Bunny, Uncle Hy, Rosemary, and often thrown in the mix was cousin Hyim Shafner, with his countless tales of psychiatric patients and witty jokes. Bubbie was never the center of attention on Christmas Day, but I think that’s how she liked it. Sometimes, I’d catch her in the corner of my eye – she’d be sitting at the table while everyone was eating or in the corner of the living room during the opening of presents, and she always had a quiet smile on her face. Those celebrations were a part of her great work on this earth, and I will always, always remember them, and her.
ADULTHOOD
I now want to share three memories of Bubbie from my adulthood, and then I’ll conclude.
First, one memory I’ll always cherish is the long talks we had when I’d come home for winter and summer break while attending Muhlenberg. I would go over to say hello and end up staying for one or two hours. Boy, could she and I talk! She always wanted to know about my courses and what I was learning. And I would in turn ask her about her own university experience at UConn from the 1930s (well, it was called Conn Aggie then). I think she loved reliving those times with me. And she always told me, “Brian, when I went to university, I felt as if all the windows in my house had been thrust open and all this fresh air came in.” I loved that quote, and her, so much that I used that quote often in my corporate training classes focused on personal development. And we would often swap teaching stories! Those hours together cemented our already strong bond. In those hours, I think we recognized how similar we are and why we cared so deeply about each other – we both shared a passion for educating others, learning, and understanding the world and its diverse people.
A quick aside – she was proudest when I got my masters degree and began teaching at universities. She positively glowed that I was a college professor. In fact, she gave me something like $100 as an MBA graduation gift, and she told my mother that she would make it $500 if I got my PhD. That memory makes me smile – she’d do anything to have a doctor (PhD that is) in the family.
Another time I vividly remember is what I’ll call Bubbie’s rebirth at Cross Road Senior Living. The final years at 207 Gardner Avenue had been extremely dark ones for her, but when we all finally got the stubborn old broad to move there, she blossomed. Men were chasing her left and right – she always had a lunch and dinner companion. She seemed happy again, and I was thrilled. However, I must note she never once played Bingo, and she’d want me to make sure I told you that. She thought activities like that were for old ladies.
And now for my final memory of Bubbie. It is our last phone call, in March 2010, a few weeks before she passed away. She sounded very weak, and it finally became real to me. When I hung up the phone, I told Jon that I had a sick feeling, that it had been the last time I would ever speak with her. I cried. I knew she was already in hospice care, but every time I called or visited, she always put all her energy into seeming healthy for me. It turns out many people in the family knew about this ritual – Bubbie always looked forward to my calls and visits. In fact, my mom told me that someone had called Bubbie that same March day, after I had, and she had declined to speak with him or her. It was as if she knew it would be our final call. Let’s face it. She knew.
Was there some divine revelation in our last call? Some parting words of wisdom? No. Just a very simple call in which she asked me when I was coming home from South Korea. I told her it would be October (7 months later), and there was silence. We both knew in that moment – this was it. Time had caught up with us. There would be no more 1-2 hour talks. I am so lucky to have had my grandmother in my life for nearly 34 years – not everyone gets such a blessing. But the call nevertheless made me very, very sad. In fact, I am crying a little as I write this.
She had little strength left, and we wrapped up the call quickly. Jon kept reminding me to say “I love you” to her loud enough, and I did multiple times. She heard me. She said goodbye. I said goodbye. And that was the end of our personal contact on this Earth. The call’s simplicity and its emotional rawness surprised me.
She passed the phone back to her aid Kelly, who by the way took such good care of Bubbie in her final years, and I asked Kelly if Bubbie had heard my “I love you.” Kelly confirmed this and said that though Bubbie was weak, she was smiling from ear to ear. And that is the final memory I will cling to – how happy our relationship made her.
CONCLUSION
So, now comes the time for me to close this tribute. Again, some words to describe my Bubbie – love, courage, resilience, strength, ferocity of mind, selflessness, matriarch, scholar, wisdom, kindness, and the list could go on and on.
She will ALWAYS be with us. She lives on in our memories. For example:
· In my love of telling her about my courses and travels.
· In Marianne’s birthday shopping sprees for new clothes.
· And in Ryan’s love of the hot dogs in the Cross Road dining room where we all enjoyed so many meals together.
I am sad, but I am comforted knowing she’s with Zadie again. It makes me smile.
Now, I must say goodbye to Bubbie. This is very personal, but you can be part of it. Toward the end of her life, Bubbie confided in me that she feared having committed what she called sins of omission, that she had not done enough for other people. I told her flat out, “That’s bullshit, Bubbie.” She touched the lives of so many people, especially those who will hear or read this tribute. So, I think it’s fitting to end with a quote that will always make me think of Bubbie – it’s from Mother Theresa, and I have loosely quoted it as follows:
We may not all do big things in our lives (like cure cancer), but we can all do small things with great love.
Bubbie’s spirit will always encourage us to do small things with great love, whether that’s spending quality time with your child or grandchild or volunteering for a worthy cause.
Goodbye, Bubbie. You touched us all, and I’ll miss you very, very much.
