A Response to Birthday Greetings 2015

Well Friends, I am still over the top honored to have received your birthday greetings and yes, I had a very happy birthday. It was a day filled with the ordinary: a walk to our beautiful Laurelhurst Park, participating in a fun photo project with Paul, and doing what one does on a lovely warm day. The ordinary is very special.

Sophie's 8th grade graduation ceremony in a hot high school auditorium was the site of my evening celebration. Two years ago we watched Jake graduate h.s. on the eve of my birthday. I am now the grandmother of 3 high school students, one college junior.

Best thing I can do for myself is enjoy what the years bring, including sorrow. I know this sounds contradictory, but the years also bring grief for the people in our lives lost, for diminishment of health, and other losses too numerous to name. So how can I enjoy all that the years bring? Well if I am grieving, I was lucky enough to have had something to lose. Quite the opposite of the song belted out by Janis Joplin. However, I am glad I have something to lose.
Back to who and what I still have: Wow, I feel rich with living. Love and gratitude for all of you. Thanks for being in my life.

L

Celebrating Mother's Day

Celebrating Mother’s Day was always a very big thing when I was a child. Mama deserved to be celebrated; so we did. Dad bought her a corsage and bouquet, along with a very flowery card. We kids gave her and Bubby homemade cards, actually cards made in school. 

Lilacs played a very big part of our Mother’s Days then. They blossomed in our garden at home and are fixed in my mind as inextricably linked to that day in particular. People in our family didn’t go out to eat then except for a special occasion. For Mother's Day, we mostly  to The Spinning Wheel. That restaurant on a farm on the outskirts of Chicago had lilac trees with winding paths. These we'd wonder after our meal. It also had a gift shop, which included boxes of chocolate covered ants! (http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2013-12-13/news/ct-hinsdale-spinning-wheel-torn-down-20131213_1_restaurant-theme-park-exhibit)

The dinner menu (dinner on Sunday was midday), included prime rib, salmon, chicken, mashed potatoes, appetizers such as cottage cheese and peaches, corn niblets, very Americana. It was served by waiters, not in a buffet line. To us it seemed very fancy. And Mama and Bubby didn’t have to cook. I thought the soft white rolls, and soft white bread was wonderful. A very fancy change from the freshly baked challahs, bagels, kaiser rolls and rye breads we usually had at home.

When Paul and the boys celebrated Mother’s Day for me, they continued the tradition of cards, and often made me breakfast in bed. We took both Paul’s and my mother out one special Mother’s Day to a restaurant at the end of Huntington Pier. It was a lovely champagne brunch with baskets of popovers;  the menu included Maine lobster. My mother who never drank had imbibed a glass of bubbly. She said: “I’m going to have lobster.” We all had chins on the table. Gasping I remember saying: Mom, you don’t eat lobster.”  She firmly responded, "I will have the lobster." Her cheeks were sweetly pink and her eyes were quite determined. She was just as firm forever after denying that she’d ever ordered it. Paul's mom, Florence didn’t keep kosher, but knew Mama was quite strict about it. She laughed, but she didn’t say a word. Dad remained silent. Hey, it was Mother’s Day!

Now our sons continue to honor their wives, mothers-in-law, and me. Brunch, barbecues, a restaurant dinner. It varies. The best thing about these celebrations from generation to generation, is the love, the memories. Some cynics say this is a holiday invented for commercial purposes. For me it is full of memories, good times together, and lilacs. 

I sure miss Mom, Florence, Bubby, our Aunts, who were like other mothers to us, but I have them with me in my heart and how we carry forward celebrating. 

To all mothers, Happy Mother’s Day

An Engagement without a Proposal on the Howard St. El & Riding That El to Get Married

Today I reposted a story shared by a friend in Portland who, as I had, also grew up in Chicago and graduated from Senn H.S. A couple got married on the Howard El Line (elevated train line). That was the one I used to go downtown from my neighborhood. Paul and I got engaged riding the train on the Howard Street line (now called the Red Line). I said: "When should we get married?" Paul answered: "Next Summer?" Me: "Let's tell them." It was during Thanksgiving break. We had gone downtown via El, to look at emeralds shown to us by the jeweler Peter Piper, a family friend (yes, that was really his name). That was it. No proposal, no great romantic setting like on our first date. It was a decision made pragmatically so we could share our news with our respective families that weekend while Paul was home from college in Champaign/Urbana.

I was living with my parents in Chicago and working for a pediatric practice as a receptionist. I felt a need to take a break from campus living and studies. Cousins Bob Bloom, also at the University of Illinois, and Fredi Bloom, studying at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, were at my parents' home for Thanksgiving. It was a perfect time to announce our engagement to people we loved so much. We didn't need to decide to get married, just when, because somehow we'd already had an unspoken agreement that we wanted to share our lives together. I am so glad we were on the El.

We took the same El to get married before a Judge on July 24, 1965, one month before our big Jewish wedding in a synagogue. I was pregnant (much to my embarrassment in the age of "good girls don't,'" although we all did). My mother wanted our baby to "have a name." This was because Paul was doing research on the Kaskaskia River downstate, and "in case anything should happen the baby should have a name." And so on a very hot humid day, we took the El to the Courthouse accompanied by my friend Ginny. We giggled through the ceremony, had a lovely lunch at a then upscale hotel. Home again on the El.

So congratulations to the couple who got married on the Howard Line El, and thanks for the memories.

Being Mama on Pesach

I miss my mother most of all during the week before Passover. Mama schlepping the dishes she packed in boxes to store away for the eight days; Mama unpacking the 4 sets of Pesadich dishes (the dairy for everyday and the one for the Seder; the same for the flaisech set), the two sets of pots and pans (dairy/milchek and meat/flaisheke);Mama sweeping and wiping away every crumb of chametz as she stored the rest, lined the cabinet, refrigerator, and counters with plastic so no chametz would touch our food for Passover; Mama cooking chicken soup, making the charoset, grating the horseradish, Mama the quintessence of this holiday.

The last Seder in her own home was catered. I hired the only Kosher caterer in town, and our wonderful cleaning woman (Mama’s also) to help unpack the Passover dishes, set up and clean in the no longer lived in house in SW Portland. Dad by then was at Robison debilitated by Parkinson’s. Mama was living at Rose Schnitzer Manor paralyzed on her left side by a stroke. But both of them sat at the Seder table in their own home with all their children and grandchildren. 

It was at a Seder at Robison Jewish Home 9 years after Daddy had died, I knew it would be my mother’s last.  Mama couldn’t make it past the first half of the abbreviated large group Seder. Since she asked to go to bed, leaving this holiday she loved, I knew she was leaving us.

And so I bring her to me in making the kitchen chametz free, in making chicken soup with kneidlach, in lighting the holiday candles and sitting at our very large family Seder. Pearl Lipkin thank you for the blessing of your life.

How I Decided Never to Go Out with Paul Again, Then Married Him

Mama a nice boy asked me out! I had run downstairs wrapped in a towel, another one wrapped around my head. I stood dripping water off my legs onto the yellow, green-flecked linoleum on our kitchen floor. This was after my mother had called upstairs to tell me that Paul was on the phone.

Paul and I had met in the student lounge of Navy Pier; we were standing under a beautiful dome in what is now a restored ballroom, with glass-paneled doors.  Through the windows, we could view that vast expanse of Lake Michigan.  

My high school friend Bob G. had introduced us. Paul was wearing a bowler hat, navy paisley-print long-sleeved shirt. He had very kind beautiful brown eyes, Princeton-cut black hair, and no mustache then.  I looked up at him feeling extremely happy just being in his presence. He was gentle and telling jokes and making me feel quite safe. I saw boats beyond the pier’s edge and felt it quite right that was the backdrop for meeting Paul.  He was  a nice friend of a friend with whom I had chatted. I didn’t think about him again after our chat.

So I surprised myself by leaping out of the tub, not bothering to dry myself before running to the upstairs phone table. 

Hi, you got me out of the tub. I am standing here wrapped in a towel. Uh, oh, why did I tell him that? What must he think?

“Uh, he responded”, and then thought better of saying more. ‘Listen I have tickets to the Schubert Theater to see Stop the World; I Want to get Off.  Want to join me?”

You mean with Julie Newmar and Joel Grey?!! Sure, I’ll go.

“You will?!” His voice sounded one octave higher.

Laughing, thinking to myself: What fool wouldn’t want to go to see the hottest musical with the big hit song, “What Kind of Fool Am I?”

Ok, I will pick you up Sat. evening at 7. We’re double dating with my friend Bob P. and his girlfriend.

Why am I disappointed that we’re double dating? I don’t say that aloud, but I am surprised that I feel that way.

I surprise myself for the third time by racing downstairs to tell my mother about the nice boy asking me out , and forgetting to mention that we are going to this famous musical.

The date was so perfect that it could have been instantaneous falling in love. Our relationship didn’t happen that way.

First the date:

Stop the World I Want to Get Off was an allegorical play about a couple in love, getting married, having kids, and their love changing, disappointing and turning cold. It had a poignancy. After theater, Paul told me we were going alone to a special restaurant. But first, we were going on a boat ride on Lake Michigan. Bob and his girlfriend went their way.  

Three Things He Got Right, No Four

So far I thought, Paul got it right with me three times already. I love theater, and I love being on water in a boat, and I love the Chicago skyline. We shared our dreams for our individual futures on that ride. I watched the city lights and beautiful buildings from the rail and spoke of wanting to live near the ocean. I wanted to try the West Coast. “So do I.” Paul told me. He said he wanted to be a Marine biologist. Wow! That was impressive. By the time we disembarked we had a good knowledge of each other’s desired future, and no idea that we would want to share a future.

We went to Hackney’s on Harms. On a dark, what was then country road, we passed the forest preserves. Inside was a nice version of typical family American restaurant with a specialty.  The burger was served on dark pumpernickel bread with bleu cheese. The French fried onion rings were fabulous. They came in a square basket. Ok, this getting it right with me four times. I loved food: a bleu cheese burger on pumpernickel? Amazing!

FIFTH got it right: FAMILY

During that meal, Paul told me about his family; he didn’t mention that the father and mother he told me about were divorced. I later learned he was too embarrassed. It was the very early 1960’s. But he did ask me if I wanted to go see his father perform in Death of a Salesman. Wow! His father is an actor and singer! I told him about my family. We both adored our large and loving extended families. Could anyone by now not be in love? Not yet. But really in LIKE.

Sixth got it Right: The Stars

Under a sky so milky with stars thanks to being away from city lights,  Paul held his arms around me, and we stood close while looking up and felt our presence on a planet that is part of the Universe. Often, my father shared his love of astronomy with me by taking me away from city lights to explain the constellations. It felt like a connection to be with someone so familiar. There I was with a boy who’s humor, ethics, warmth and goodness was just like my father’s.  I wasn’t consciously aware of that, but I was very comfortable. So when he said:

“Gee, this is fun, we’re going to have to do this again.” 

I agreed. Looking up at him again, with the bowl of stars as his background. I felt as if we should stay that way for a long, long time.

           “I’m working up at Pine Point Resort at Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin this Summer, before I go downstate.”

Me too!  I’ll be at Elkhart Lake, but I will be working at Schwartz’s Resort. I’ll be a counselor for the kids, how about you?

“Yeah, I will be a counselor too. Bob Grossberg is also. This is going to be a great Summer.”

He opened the door for me, and as I slid into the bench seat of his 1951 Plymouth, I was thinking about Mickey’s Corvette, and David’s Thunderbird and the Cadillacs I rode in with the other guys I’d dated.   With someone like Paul, I could enjoy riding in an old Plymouth. 

“Say, do you want a ride to school?”

Sure! 

“Ok, I will pick you up at 8:30 Mon. morning.”

Whoops! Three Things He Got Wrong: No Make That Four

First mistake: Paul honked the horn Monday morning. I was a bit surprised that Paul didn’t come to the door for me, but ok, he wanted to get us to our classes on time.  The big hunk of old Plymouth had other people in it! At first, I chastised myself for thinking about how cool it was to get into a sleek red Corvette convertible instead.  But the honk? I knew I wasn’t being petty about that.

Second thing: I thought Paul would get out, and open the door. 

Third mistake: Hey wait a minute, another girl, Sandy was in the front seat!  I sat in back with two other people. 

Fourth mistake: The clincher came when he asked me to chip in for the gasoline for the ride. Cancel out great first date, I told myself. I am NEVER going out with this boor again! I liked Thunderbird convertibles and Corvettes better anyway. If I was going to spend time with guys who were boorish, I might as well enjoy being in nice cars and going to expensive restaurants, and not having to pay for the gasoline when they drove me to school!

Uncle Paul to the Kids, and What He Got Right  the Seventh Time, Outweighed the 5^th Wrong

For some inexplicable reason I did go out with Paul again. And when I got to Elkhart Lake at Schwartz’s resort, Paul tried to phone me.

Fifth big mistake: That phone call got me fired. Since I defied the rules spending off-duty time at naughty Pine Point Resort, I guess I got myself fired too. 

So there I was waiting until my parents could come and pick me up, working in the office at Pine Point resort, staying in the dorm for the girls who worked there. Paul and I dated, but waved to each other when we went out with other people there. He was definitely in the party crowd, since everyone who worked there were partiers. Some of the guys were gigolos for the women vacationing sans husbands. Quite a place.

It was really fun!  There were: Mattress parties with movies into the wee hours hosted by the owners’ son, Roger. Roger used a large hall, put mattresses out on the floor and ran movies for the staff.  Everyone danced before the movies.Sometimes I saw Paul with a date; he saw me too. No jealousy involved.

Mom and Dad had a weekend at Schwartz’s, while I fumed at Pine Point knowing my own parents had betrayed me! Really! Paying a place that fired their daughter for being a “wild girl”! Yep, that’s what they thought I was. And who can blame them. A guy called the first night I arrived. The owner said: “We don’t let the help get phone calls here.” 

Mistake number five: Paul: “Well f**k you!” To my boss! 

You would think I’d be done with him. Nope. I talked a friend Phil into driving up to Elkhart Lake for a weekend. We stayed with the help at Pine Point. The owners liked me; “Wild Girl” though I was (not).  Paul and I spent great time together, when he was not being “Uncle Paul”.  I got to hang out on the green wide lawns watching him lead Duck, Duck Goose with the little kids, comfort owies, and just ask to hold a baby, and smile lovingly down as he looked down into the baby’s face. He’s going to be the father of my children. Wait! Did I just think that? Yes, I did.

Sunday, as Phil and I were leaving the resort, I saw Paul standing with Allison, the sister of a guy I had dated. He had his hand under her chin, displaying the same tenderness, (or was it lasciviousness?) that he had when gazing into my eyes.  A huge wave of jealousy overwhelmed me. 

However, since I was still dating other people I let go of that jealous feeling quickly. We went downstate to University of Illinois for our last two years of college and had so much fun. He and I waved to each other in my dorm lobby, while on dates with others. We made up cheers at our Rose Bowl-bound Illini football games. 

We cooked together. We both participated in plays. I cast him in my directing class final scene from Sartre’s No Exit. His main line was: “Estelle, we shall climb out of Hell” not an easy line for anyone to say when it was supposed to be drama, not comedy.

He introduced me to his family at a huge Fishman family brunch. I loved them. I introduced him to my family. He loved them. And both of our families were warm to each of us.

We still dated others and waved amicably to each other, but mostly we spent more and more time together. On Parents’ Weekend we decided to make a big meal at Paul’s apartment for his mother, Aunt Laura, Cousin Margie, and my parents.

Even though my mother thought it was inappropriate, since we weren’t engaged, she got over it. And how could she not love Paul? Paul’s mother Florence wasn’t sure about me at first. This she told me later, but we became quite close and remained that way. 

After our junior year, while I was on a trip to New York with my family, I learned that mutual friends were fixing Paul up with a date. By then he and I were spending nights together.  I allowed myself jealous waves and finally found myself telling my girlfriends in New York City that I was in love with Paul.

 That “nice boy” and I became engaged in our senior year in college and got married in 1965.  Two sons who have made us so proud, two wonderful daughters-in-law, and four grandkids, later, I am still head-over-heels in love with Paul. And we both still make lots of mistakes with each other. 

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