I come from...

This is my first post, so , by way of introduction I'm sharing some bits of my background. There will be more to come later about many of these.

I come from…

Russian Jews and Ellis Island.

Matzo ball soup, and seemingly interminable Passover dinners. Chanukah decorations made from Styrofoam and sequins. A brass menorah, and also one with bubble-lights.

Dogs, frogs, snakes and turtles. Elaine’s horses – little ones to play with at home and big ones to ride.

TV Westerns and cops shows and a box full of toy guns. We shot each other daily, and became adults who hate guns.

Snow angels, ice skating on wobbly ankles, sledding down ‘devil’s hill’ in the golf course.

Cold, dark winter nights with Dad’s tires crunching on the snow. The cozy kitchen with fried chicken in the electric skillet, mashed potatoes & green beans.

Daily family dinners, and NO taboo discussion topics. Family conferences when tensions rose.

Jigsaw puzzles with a piece missing until someone gave it up so they could put in the last one.

Mom’s gourmet cooking and my Franco American spaghetti. Devil’s food cake on birthdays. TV dinners with the Wonderful World of Disney.

Family game nights – Dad, the popcorn-making expert because that was the job of the first one out in Monopoly, and he just wasn’t that competitive.

The Thanksgiving table filled with family and stragglers who had no where to go.

Fear of missing out – FOMO – so never wanting to go to bed.

Gr. Sonia’s unconditional love when she visited from the fraternity in Iowa City, bringing Stella’s sticky pecan cinnamon rolls. (We always used ‘Gr.’ to abbreviate Grandma.)

Gr. Eva’s new high rise apartment looking down on Dutch elms that arched over Grand Avenue. Merengues and macaroons and little brown sugar cookies. Taking my little dachshund, Liebschen, to spend the night.

Esther from Norway who lived with us for a few years and cleaned and laundered, and helped take care of us and showered us with love.

Summers at Clear Lake, running free all day. A life jacket to protect me that didn’t stop the giant splinter from the dock. Then summers at Camp – 8 weeks in the north woods – swimming, canoeing, crafts, archery, horses, songs and putting on plays. Then summers at home with a swimming pool where I gave lessons to children and one petrified adult.

Walking home from elementary school for lunch.

The giant oak tree in the middle of the front lawn. Rustling leaves. Hooting owl. Tending the pile of burning leaves in the driveway every fall.

Nancy’s cavernous attic with big steamer trunks and old clothes and riding boots that came up to my thigh. Clever little girls turning it into a Halloween haunted house.

Scrabble, boxing on the radio, football and golf on TV (& big ½-time marching bands).

Neighborhood kids playing hide-and-seek or football till it got too dark to see.

Slumber parties with Ouija boards & charades. Dad joining us in the morning (doing a great Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies).

Books, books and more books. Reading to each other and by ourselves.

Mom. The queen mum/mother of organization and efficiency. The consummate hostess. Generosity with hidden strings attached. The teller of “little white lies.”

Dad. The gentle doctor/father, dispensing unconditional love, patience and humor. Always the mediator.

Music - folk & jazz & classical. Lying under the piano while dad played.

Listening to the latest comedy albums with groups of my parents’ friends.

The 1960’s — Activism. Assassinations. The Civil Rights Movement. The Haight. Cigarettes and dope.

I come from logic & reason, practicality, productivity, integrity, and giving back and sharing.

And I come from so much privilege – safety and security and laughter and love, good health and financial security. A good education with no debt beyond the gratitude I owed to my parents.

It all feels like an embarrassment of riches. Am I doing enough to pay it forward?