My 200th Post and a surprise topic. . .

Dear Abba,

Bet you never thought you'd be a blog entry, since you died before the Internet really caught on big. It has been 14 years, almost 15 now, and I still think of you every day, and yeah- for the most part, Abba, I resented you. . .but I have to be honest now, Dad, I have to tell you somehow, that I now understand so much of what you were, and I now understand so much of what went into the shaping of your parental style.

The stories you told- I am so sorry that I really did not understand, but I am so damn grateful that you repeated them, I remember them all, and I tell your kinderlach all the time. . . you know the funny ones, about how you learned certain English words, and how you used to try to teach Savta those words, how quickly you learned the swear words, and all of the ways you tried to show how "American" you were. . .all the way to Viet Nam, and back to show how glad you were to be in this country.

I remember the stories from the Ukraine, the shtetel that Savta came from, the arranged marriage that lasted 30 years, the pogroms that led to emigration, and the way your face changed when you talked about the people left behind that were never heard from again after 1943. I remember the pride in your face when you wore your uniform how you stood so tall. . .all 5 feet 9 of you. . .how proud you were of Jeff and Jonah when they also enlisted. . .and how you and Jeff teased Jonah for joining the Navy.

I know that many of the things about me that people say they respect and admire came from you, Ema did not have that and it was actually a combination of your influence and my INTENSE desire to the the COMPLETE opposite of Ema that I sit here today- struggling in a life I did not really choose, reaching for a goal that may not mean shit, and still going forward, because you taught me never to quit.

I have to be honest, you were right in many things, it is almost impossible to be both mom and worker. . .I resented the implication that because I was a woman, I could not do it. But I remember the last talk we had before you died- the one where you were looking forward to meeting your 3rd grandson, as soon as your "cold" cleared and how you could not wait to see how much he looks like you! Remember? You told me that you were proud of who I was, and even though I did not always listen, I always heard you. I was already saying I wanted to go back to work, and remember? You told me that day that women COULD do it all, it was an option, but that the world ran on rules that rich men wrote, and that so long as rich men wrote the rules, they would never really care what it meant to be a woman, they would just pretend to. . .and that would always make it impossible for women to really be equal. Moms worked hard, but it was the wrong KIND of work, seen as low skill, like your job as a soldier. You remember? Remember how you told me to continue on as that soldier? And not to quit until never? That if things were going to change then someone had to stand up, and not back off, and that no matter what happened, I would be able to hold my head up. ..and be proud of my actions? You warned me it would hurt, and you said that people would not be kind, but you urged me to stick to my beliefs, and not worry about the consequences. . . .you told me to remember that when you were in combat you thought about the family you wanted to have someday, and how you refused to give up wanting that dream, remember telling me not to give up?



I remember Abba, I remember you every day- I named Precious after you. . .I remember everything, Abba.

Thank you for it all, I love you.