At four and a half feet tall (give or take an inch or two), she is a giant of a woman. Bronia has been through it all. She endured the murder of most of her family in Europe, was imprisoned in several concentration camps and was eventually sent on a death march. She relocated to America as a young woman lacking money, connections or a good grip on the English language. She has been a wife, mother, business owner, grandmother, community volunteer, public (and “motivational”) speaker and beloved friend.
She called yesterday to say her car had broken down and asked if I’d take her to the grocery. As we strolled up and down the aisles, I was struck by her sense of determination, dignity and pride. It was obvious she wasn’t feeling well, but she kept on moving. It was clear she was down, but she kept on smiling - greeting a beloved friend or fan by the produce counter, again in dairy, again in the check-out line and once more in the parking lot. I was sure she would run out of steam, but she seemed to brighten with each and every encounter. After shopping, she invited me into her home (along with my friend Sandy who had accompanied us.) With much animation, she delivered one of her legendary spontaneous lectures. Sandy and I, held captive by her charm, commitment and compassion, heard about the importance of being strong, even in the face of adversity.
Bronia loves to sing a song (it’s in Yiddush) that has a chorus with the following English translation: “I’m gonna LIVE, LIVE, LIVE [she puts full blown emphasis on these words] until I die, die, die.”
I don’t know anyone who does “living” better than Bronia.
No comments:
Post a Comment