Dear Community,
I hope that you will allow me the indulgence of using this column for something personal this week. Tomorrow is my Bubby (grandmother), Helen Light Senior’s 100th birthday [To avoid any confusion, my late mother, Dr Helen Light, and paternal grandmother Helen Light shared the same name].
While we celebrate Bubby’s significant milestone I would like to tell you a little about her and why she means so much to me.
Bubby was born in Lomza in Poland in 1925. She was among the very few members of her extended family who were able to escape Poland before the horrors of the Shoah.
I have gotten into the habit of mining her for information about her life in Lomza. I ask her about how she celebrated the yom tovim, and what she would eat throughout the week. How would they refrigerate their meat? Whether or not they had access to hot water?
Unfortunately, at 100, one’s memory is not what it used to be. While Bubby remembers lots of important things, some of the finer details are more elusive.
Nonetheless, I feel that I have some idea of what her life was like and also I have an understanding of the beautiful relationships that seem to be at the forefront of her memories.
I often think of the torment my great great grandparents would have faced farewelling their children and grandchildren. At the age of 13, Bubby had to get on a ship and travel across the world to Australia. She had to say farewell to her beloved relatives in the knowledge that she was unlikely to see many of them again.
My grandmother’s grandfather was a Rabbi and a bit of a macher (community leader) in Lomza. They had a special relationship. I am sure that he must have felt that he was saying goodbye forever, but also that he had no idea how his offspring would live Jewishly all the way down under.
At every family simcha and on other grand occasions I imagine just how proud he would be to know that his granddaughter’s grandchildren were living Jewishly. And that her grandson is the Principal of a Jewish school, noch! (moreover)
Both of my paternal grandparents travelled to Australia on the ship, the Oronsay, with their respective families. Bubby has told me this story of encountering a young girl around her same age who wanted to play with her. Due to her experience in Poland she was certain that the girl would not want or would not be allowed to play with her if she was Jewish. When the girl asked her if they could play, my grandmother's response was to warn her. “I’m Jewish,” she said. The girl’s response - “I’m Church of England - nice to meet you.” A firm friendship was formed.
I hope that you will allow me the indulgence of using this column for something personal this week. Tomorrow is my Bubby (grandmother), Helen Light Senior’s 100th birthday [To avoid any confusion, my late mother, Dr Helen Light, and paternal grandmother Helen Light shared the same name].
While we celebrate Bubby’s significant milestone I would like to tell you a little about her and why she means so much to me.
Bubby was born in Lomza in Poland in 1925. She was among the very few members of her extended family who were able to escape Poland before the horrors of the Shoah.
I have gotten into the habit of mining her for information about her life in Lomza. I ask her about how she celebrated the yom tovim, and what she would eat throughout the week. How would they refrigerate their meat? Whether or not they had access to hot water?
Unfortunately, at 100, one’s memory is not what it used to be. While Bubby remembers lots of important things, some of the finer details are more elusive.
Nonetheless, I feel that I have some idea of what her life was like and also I have an understanding of the beautiful relationships that seem to be at the forefront of her memories.
I often think of the torment my great great grandparents would have faced farewelling their children and grandchildren. At the age of 13, Bubby had to get on a ship and travel across the world to Australia. She had to say farewell to her beloved relatives in the knowledge that she was unlikely to see many of them again.
My grandmother’s grandfather was a Rabbi and a bit of a macher (community leader) in Lomza. They had a special relationship. I am sure that he must have felt that he was saying goodbye forever, but also that he had no idea how his offspring would live Jewishly all the way down under.
At every family simcha and on other grand occasions I imagine just how proud he would be to know that his granddaughter’s grandchildren were living Jewishly. And that her grandson is the Principal of a Jewish school, noch! (moreover)
Both of my paternal grandparents travelled to Australia on the ship, the Oronsay, with their respective families. Bubby has told me this story of encountering a young girl around her same age who wanted to play with her. Due to her experience in Poland she was certain that the girl would not want or would not be allowed to play with her if she was Jewish. When the girl asked her if they could play, my grandmother's response was to warn her. “I’m Jewish,” she said. The girl’s response - “I’m Church of England - nice to meet you.” A firm friendship was formed.
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