In Search of the Missing Photo

I never met my maternal grandmother, even though I am named after her; in the Jewish religion, it's a custom to name one's children after someone who has passed on, so that person's memory will live on in the world through the good deeds we do. So, while I'm Donna in English, I'm Devorah (Debra) in Hebrew-- which I believe was my Grandma Dora's Hebrew name.

My mother, of blessed memory, loved her dearly. Unfortunately, my grandmother endured many health problems, and she died young-- she was only 44, and from what was described to me, it certainly seemed like cancer. Today, the story might have a very different outcome, but in 1939, there were so few treatments available. My mother never fully recovered from watching what her mom went through. Even decades later, when telling me about the woman who was my grandmother, it would bring tears to my mother's eyes. 

I've heard so many stories of how compassionate and generous my Grandma Dora was. I always wished I could have met her.  Despite living through the Great Depression, and despite her poor health, I am told she was somehow optimistic; she was a very spiritual and caring person, and I know my mother always tried to emulate her. 

But while I have the stories my mother told me when I was growing up, I have no picture of my Grandma Dora. None. For whatever reason, no photographs from her life seem to have survived. I have found various documents online via Ancestry.com -- census records, streets she lived on, when and where she married my grandfather... but not one photo. 

I feel very fortunate that photographs of my mother, and my father, survived. I even have photos of a few of my relatives, and a couple of photos of my maternal grandfather. But the woman who was such a profound influence on my mother-- if anyone did take her picture, no-one has ever found it.

Every year, in September, just before the Jewish New Year, I visit the graves of my departed relatives, and I visit hers too. And when I stand before her gravestone, I imagine what she looked like, what she sounded like (my mother told me she would sing lullabies in Yiddish-- I wish I had heard those songs). I wonder if she would have liked me. When she was growing up, the roles of girls were so restricted, but by the time I was a teenager, so much had changed. Neither she nor my mother was encouraged to go to college, for example; but I was able to go, and I even graduated. I'd like to think she'd be pleased.

But above all, I wish I could tell her that while she died far too young, there have been so many advances in the treatment of cancer since then, and I am living proof-- as many of you know, I had cancer surgery in December 2014, and thanks to modern medicine (and by the grace of God), I am still here, at age 76. And for as long as I have on this earth, I will continue to do good deeds in her memory, in my mother's and my father's memory, and in the other relatives of mine who have passed. But there will always be a part of me that wishes I'd been able to meet my Grandma Dora. And I will continue to wish I had just one photo to remember her by.   

Brought Up to Believe (Or, What Does It Mean To Get A Good Education?)

When I was growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, parents were eager for their kids to go to college. Back then, in a very conservative time, the expectation was that girls would learn to become teachers or nurses or executive secretaries (prior to becoming wives and mothers, of course); and boys would learn to be engineers, doctors, and businessmen. There was a plan, and everyone was expected to follow it, since (allegedly) we'd always done it this way.

Back then, we studied English Literature-- mostly British and U.S. writers, 99% of whom were white and male. And we studied World History-- but the focus was on Europe and no place else. We studied U.S. History-- but the focus was on America as a great country that had done amazing things. Agreed, America had in fact done some things that were amazing. On the other hand, however, there was no conversation about how Native Americans (or "Indians") were treated, no discussion of poverty, or people with disabilities, or discrimination. Nothing that was negative-- after all, we loved our country, and we were told that to question the dominant (positive) narratives was unpatriotic.

Yes, we might study Comparative Religions-- but the default position was Christianity, and all the other faiths, while misguided, were to be tolerated. The Holocaust? Barely mentioned. Slavery? The main thing was it ended with the Emancipation Proclamation. (And we never were told that some of the Founding Fathers had owned slaves.) Segregation? Not a thing to dwell on. Antisemitism? Not a thing to dwell on either. Racism? Nothing to discuss-- the constitution said we were all equal. Gay people? They were considered deviants, so why talk about them? (Some folks today insist there was no indoctrination back then-- but as someone who thought differently about some things, I can tell you that only certain viewpoints, and certain beliefs, were welcome. I was often told I had the "wrong" beliefs.)  

Even in college, there were a lot of things we weren't supposed to talk about. Occasionally, I had a professor who did things differently, a professor who was thought-provoking and encouraged us to analyze some trend or question what we had been taught. But for the most part, everyone adhered to the norms of traditional culture. I respected those norms, but all around me, it was an era of social change (the women's movement, the civil rights movement, the gay rights movement, etc.), yet many of my professors would have preferred to avoid any discussions about any of that. In fact, I got in trouble when I tried to bring some of these topics up. I was told to stop asking questions. 

But I couldn't. And I still can't. Frankly, as an educator, I think asking questions like "why did this happen?" or "has something like this ever happened before?" can be important-- especially now. We're about to start a new school year, and yet, in large parts of the USA, there are conservative politicians insisting that what we need is to go back to the way things used to be in the 1950s. To avoid "controversial concepts" and to avoid "divisive issues." To never discuss anything that might possibly offend someone (I'm not a mind-reader; how can I predict what will offend a student?). There are states where laws now forbid students from reading certain books or penalize teachers (including professors) if they introduce a view of history that contradicts the dominant narrative. 

How is this a good thing? How does pretending there's only one interpretation of history help us to understand world events? In the 1950s and early 1960s, perhaps education was easier because there was one "approved" perspective and one dominant narrative. But we're in 2023. And it's a different, more complicated world; just telling students to memorize certain facts may not work as well as it once did. So, if you're in my classes, you may learn some stuff that you don't agree with. That's okay. And you may learn some stuff you think is 100% correct. That's okay too. But what we don't need is to prevent conversations about the issues from occurring. What we do need is to let students learn: teach them to examine the issues thoroughly, and to respect each other's views-- something that didn't happen very often in those mythical "good old days" some folks want us to return to.