Memory

I started this post at 11:54 p.m. — 6 minutes before the day officially ends and becomes March 10, a day that means nothing to me. Today, though, March 9, would have been my Bubby Cyrille’s 79th birthday. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of her. And, for kicks, tonight’s episode of The Colbert Report was hysterical, and laced with Jewish humor that my Bubby would have appreciated.

For those of my readers who didn’t have the pleasure to meet my grandmother, she was a gem. She and my Zaydie Sam were the perfect pair — favorite grandparents, nurturers to the core. Nothing was ever too important to put aside for family, and it was her family-comes-first mentality in particular that continues to help me weather any argument I have with my siblings. When it comes to family values, my Bubby Cyrille was my role model. She spoke to her siblings daily, and supported them in all that they did. The discovery of three-way calling brought their communication to the 21st century.

I’ll always remember:

  • Green – her favorite color
  • Blintz souffle – my favorite of her Yom Kippur break-fast recipes
  • Jaguar – her favorite shade of nail polish
  • This Little Piggy Goes to the Market – the game she played with our toes when putting us to bed
  • Her Thanksgiving poem
  • Her recitation of the 4 Questions at Pesach in Yiddish
  • Her bottomless, photo-filled handbags
  • Her clip-on earring and pin collection

She found the silver lining in every situation, even during her last days, and I hope I am as fortunate to find even a sliver of that happiness in my lifetime.

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