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I Called Her Aunt Anna
The stories behind how Jewish families bond with those of other religions have always fascinated me.
I grew up in an Orthodox, then later Conservative Jewish family. My parents were very close with a woman from a Greek Orthodox family. Her name was Anna, but I loved her so much and felt so close to her, I always called her Aunt Anna.
She came into my family when my dad joined a partnership with three brothers who were in the restaurant supply business. She was the secretary.
My dad told me the story that Aunt Anna and one of the brothers, Eddie, were very much in love. But it was not to be. Eddie was from an Orthodox Jewish family; Anna was from an Orthodox Greek family.
Eddie was my dad’s best friend. They went everywhere together.
One day in 1946 my dad and Eddie were doing errands. It was a quick visit to a doctor’s office where Eddie was having a checkup. As they were leaving, Eddie started to breathe heavily and grabbed his chest. He died hours later of a heart attack. He was in his early 30s.
My parents and Aunt Anna never got over Eddie’s death. My dad told me he promised Eddie to look after Aunt Anna for the rest of her life. And he did. Aunt Anna never married, and she was very close to our family until she passed away at 90 in 2012.
Aunt Anna was there when I was born and attended almost every event that happened in my life. She told me lots of funny stories about her family the whole time I was growing up. When it was time to go away to college, she took me clothes shopping. I had eight real aunts, but Aunt Anna was always there for me.
She was about 5’4”, had dark brown curly hair, big wide brown eyes that twinkled and a big smile. She was always dressed beautifully, and I loved her perfume. She was very special to me.
She was one of five daughters in a very close Greek Orthodox family. I remember visiting her parents’ house when I was a little girl. The desserts and all the specialty dishes I tasted were so delicious. The family was warm and welcoming. It was like being in a Jewish home. When I was very young, I remember one time going to church with her. I was awestruck with the colorful windows and high ceilings — very beautiful, but very different from the synagogue I was used to.
Aunt Anna always made a big deal on my birthday. I still have some of her beautiful gifts that I treasure. She was so caring, a good listener and supportive — even sometimes when my very own parents wouldn’t listen. And I always felt that she missed so much in life because she never married.
She was very active in the Greek church. In fact, she worked in the church for many years before she came to work for my dad. I always thought she would have made such a great mother, wife, etc. I always felt I was the daughter that Aunt Anna never had.
After my dad passed away, my mom came to Detroit to live in an assisted living development. I discovered that Aunt Anna moved to a senior living complex, so I got Aunt Anna and my mom together for several phone calls. But then they suddenly stopped, and we were unable to connect. I found out from her family that she passed away in 2012 — six months before my mother.
Sandy Hermanoff
A LONG-HELD SECRET
Fast forward to 2013 when I was in my office, and I received a phone call from Aunt Anna’s nephew who I hadn’t heard from for years. We exchanged greetings and then he told me his whole family couldn’t figure out why my parents and Aunt Anna were so close. I told him I was sorry she had never married and that I missed her. I was sorry that my mom and I couldn’t come to her funeral because mom couldn’t make the trip.
He hesitated. He cleared his throat. Then he just divulged that Aunt Anna and Eddie found out that she was pregnant in 1943. Aunt Anna went to another state, had the baby and brought it back with her. The baby was adopted by a family two years later. She grew up in a wonderful Jewish family, went to college and married a great guy — a doctor. He told me where they lived in Akron but didn’t have any contact information. Her name was Susan Schwartz and her husband’s name was Barry.
I was numb and dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe it. Why had my parents not told me about this? The baby was one year younger than me, so had we played together as infants? Where could I find her — and what would I say to her? Was she brought up Jewish? Greek? Where was she and what did she look like? Did she ever try to find her birth mother, and did she ever contact her?
After I collected myself, I looked up the name — and there it was!
I called the number and left a message. “I don’t know how to start this, but my parents and your birth mother were best friends, and I never knew about you. Please call me. I would like to know all about you. Your mother was my second mother. This all is a big shock to me.”
About an hour later, the phone rang. The woman on the other end sounded just like my Aunt Anna. I had a lump in my throat. I couldn’t believe it was not her. Her voice and the way she pronounced her words was uncanny.
That was the moment Susan came into my life.
Susan and I exchanged stories. We laughed and we cried. She told me she had tried several times to reach Aunt Anna. She even brought flowers to her on one occasion, but Aunt Anna said she knew who she was, and she could not
be in her life. She closed the door on Susan’s face. Susan and Barry were devastated.
After an hour of conversation, I invited Susan and her husband for a weekend visit. We both had so many questions that needed answers. She was hoping I could close the information gap; I was hoping she could do the same for me.
We talked a few times before Susan and Barry came to visit. She knew of people who were friends of my parents, and we tried to put pieces of the puzzle together. But we couldn’t find where she was staying before she was adopted when she was around 2 years old.
Susan and I figured out why my birthday was always such a big deal to Aunt Anna. Eddie and I both shared the same birthday. I was Aunt Anna’s substitute daughter.
I anticipated the day Susan and Barry came to the door. I was excited, emotional and nervous. But when I opened it, Susan was beautiful and petite with straight, short gray hair and Aunt Anna’s smile. She talked just like her; had the same mannerisms: her hands, the way she spoke, laughed, smiled. It was Aunt Anna.
On that day, my husband and I gained two new friends and family members: Susan and Barry. We continue to visit (not as much as we’d like during COVID), but we know each other’s kids/ grandchildren, relatives, etc. We talk often, exchange gifts, emails and text each other on holidays and birthdays/ anniversaries.
As I take a few paces back and look at my life, we are blessed to have Susan and her family in it. My heart breaks when I think Aunt Anna could have had so much nachas with Susan, her husband, children — her grandchildren.
Certainly, times have changed. If Aunt Anna and Eddie would have met today, perhaps they might have married, had a family, and celebrated both Jewish and Greek holidays together. Mixed and interracial marriages are more accepted — a discussion for families and clergy everywhere.
A sad story, but a happy ending. A good thing came out of the love that Aunt Anna and Eddie had: a great friendship with a talented and beautiful friend I will enjoy for the rest of my life.
Susan and I don’t have all the answers, but we have each other.
Sandy Hermanoff is an area public relations consultant who loves to cook and bake. The names in this story have been changed to protect their privacy.
PARTISANS, POETS, AND THE RACE TO SAVE JEWISH TREASURES FROM THE NAZIS .
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New Vaccination Policy at Temple Beth El
For nearly two years, much of our communal dialogue has been dominated by the cloud of COVID-19. Every one of our institutions — synagogues, agencies, Federation — has wrestled with questions about how best to protect our community from this pandemic. And yes, protect means honoring the value of pikuach nefesh (saving lives) by trying to ensure each individual’s health and safety … but it also means protecting our mental and spiritual heath, and preserving our ability to lead Jewish lives even under these unprecedented circumstances.
It should not be a surprise that while we are all on the same “team” fighting against COVID, there have been variations in our responses. We all want the same thing, but there is more than one path to get there. In that vein, I am proud to let you know about a new policy approved by Temple Beth El’s Board of Trustees a few weeks ago.
Effective immediately, and on a temporary basis, all adults will be required to show proof of full vaccination to attend Shabbat services at Temple Beth El. Grounded on the best scientific and medical guidance, our Board took this action for three primary reasons:
First, it is clear that ensuring vaccination is the best way to keep people safe. Studies and stories all indicate that our Jewish community is among the most highly vaccinated groups in the country. Still, as we watch the rise of Omicron, and as COVID is surging to its highest levels, this step
is intended to create the peak degree of safety. And while Shabbat services are only one element of all we offer at TBE, our Board wanted to make it clear that they are not preventing anyone from having access to their clergy or to Temple in general. Second, as we all begin to (hopefully) emerge from the pandemic, it is vital that people feel safe coming back to Temple. Although this one is more Rabbi Mark subjective, many people are simply
Miller more comfortable knowing that everyone around them is vaccinated. So, this policy is designed to encourage more and more people to join us for services in-person (even as we, like many synagogues, continue to offer a high-quality virtual option every week at www.tbelive.org). Lastly, we emphatically believe that being part of the solution is the Jewish
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New Year Resolutions that Go Beyond Ourselves
Though we’re already several days into January, even a belated resolution can signify a step toward the type of progress we desire.
Benjamin Disraeli wrote: “I am prepared for the worst but hope for the best.”
Mel Brooks sang: “Hope for the best, expect the worst.” In slightly different ways and from very different platforms, both the statesman and the comedian identified the same precarious mix of optimism and pessimism inherent in their shared Jewish faith. Since one of the foundations of Judaism is a trust in God, it’s understandable that we would find these conflicting impulses within ourselves, recognizing the challenges of adversity while maintaining positive beliefs about the ultimate outcome. We’ve come to expect misfortune over the millennia, but we’ve also learned to rely on our faith to get us through.
This combination of discordant attitudes is not unique to Jews but is characteristic of peoples who have suffered subjugation. African American poet Maya Angelou addressed the same apparent contradiction when she said, “If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.”
As did Irish author George Bernard Shaw, who observed: “Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the aeroplane, the pessimist the parachute.”
When a historically oppressed group perseveres, it’s because that blend of optimism, determination and hope keeps us going. That’s why recent polls showing a sizable drop in the number of Americans who made a New Year’s resolution for 2022 are so disconcerting.
A New Year’s resolution is a sign of personal optimism, reflecting an individual commitment to selfimprovement. And even for those who are less hopeful about future prospects for their community, their country or their world, a resolution to improve an aspect of one’s own life suggests a belief that it’s worth the effort to achieve that progress.
But a CBS News poll this month shows that only 29 percent of Americans plan to make a New Year’s resolution this year, down from the 43 percent who made that commitment at the end of 2020. A similar survey taken by The Economist and YouGov demonstrated that those who are more optimistic about the future are more likely to make resolutions. It appears that a growing number of us simply believe that it is no longer necessary to demonstrate such resolve — even to ourselves.
Even those who rely on the Almighty to help us overcome difficult obstacles also understand that God helps those who help themselves. So, the lack of motivation to make a New Year’s resolution may indicate a loss not only of optimism but a loss of hope as well. Most of us are not able to eliminate COVID, remake the American political landscape in a manner more to our liking or magically resolve longfestering crises in the Middle East and other global hot spots. But individual initiative and determination can be the first steps toward broader change.
Even though we’re already several weeks into January, even a belated New Years’ resolution can signify an important step toward the type of progress we desire. So here’s hoping that at least some who have read this far will still consider that type of personal commitment. In addition to the more standard promises to lose weight, read more, change jobs, etc., there are other types of outward-facing
resolutions that can make a difference in the lives of others, should we care to attempt them. Participating in a neighborhood park cleanup won’t solve climate change. Mentoring an at-risk youth won’t eliminate income inequality. Writing a small check to a worthwhile community group won’t Dan Schnur end homelessness. And having coffee with someone from the other political party won’t heal the intense polarization that has infected our politics. But such individual efforts can add up to larger change, and small steps forward can make the bigger challenges seem a little less overwhelming. For most of the year, we’ll spend our time discussing problems of national and global import. These conversations are necessary, but they can also make us feel somewhat helpless … and pessimistic. But a New Year’s resolution could make a difference in someone else’s life — and help restore a sense of optimism to ours.
Dan Schnur teaches political communications at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. He hosts the weekly webinar “Politics in the Time of Coronavirus” for the Los Angeles World Affairs Council & Town Hall. This article first appeared in the Jewish Journal.
thing to do. I realize that vaccinations have become controversial in some quarters, but they shouldn’t be. COVID has been a scourge to all of us, and while we can’t control the world around us entirely … perhaps the most fundamental message of Torah is that we, as human beings, do play a vital role in creating the future we desire. And I am confident that that future will soon be within reach as more institutions across society take steps to educate and encourage people to get vaccinated, to wear proper masks, and to act with both caution and optimism.
The one thing we cannot do in the face of evil or suffering is fail to act. Paraphrasing the words we declare every year during the High Holidays … the work of our own hands and our own hearts has the power to counteract even the most challenging reality. I pray that we are up to the task!
Rabbi Mark Miller is the senior rabbi at Temple Beth El in Bloomfield Township.
letters
A Touching Column
Dr. Jeff London’s article, “40 Years of Psychiatry: What Have I Learned?” (Jan. 6, 2022) touched me deeply with his honesty, humility and hope. I have practiced psychology for many years and can identify with his perceptive insights and lessons about the human condition.
I especially resonated with the following paragraph: “The thought that one never knows the effect you might have in each encounter has helped me through the ups and downs of 40 years of practice. It was also a wonderful life lesson.”
Yes, we have psychiatric medications that metaphorically go after problems in our hard drives. And yes, we have psychological therapies that help correct cognitive distortions, irrational beliefs and rigid coping styles in our software. But, as Dr. London reminds us, “we often just need a connection with another person to find our own way back home.”
— Steven J. Ceresnie, Ph.D. Psychologist Plymouth
CORRECTION
In “Help Wanted,” (Jan. 6, page 14), Melissa Pletcher’s title was incorrect. She should have been described as Volunteer Services Coordinator.
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