taylweaver | Transitions

I realized tonight that two weeks have gone by since I have seen anyone on the Upper West Side - with the obvious exceptions of M, who was my Yom Tov guest, and A, who came for a visit that was just long enough to remind me how much I missed everyone (That having been said, I very much appreciated the visit) There are also a number of people whom I have not seen for about three weeks, people I normally see on a weekly basis. It's been a while. Three weeks is a long time not to see people.

I also realized that, over those past three weeks, I have been in so many different settings - first, there was the end of student teaching and my masters project and Pesach cleaning - lots of work and exhaustion. Then there was Pesach - the sedders, with 30 people in our house in Teaneck. Then three days by myself in my apartment - during which I saw no one but my classmates. Then back home for the end of Pesach and a very subdued sort of Yom Tov. Then a lot of cleaning, a funeral, and three days being at home while my father sat shiva - all of these people in and out of the house all day long. And now, back in my apartment and maybe a bit lonely, because only one of my apartment mates is currently home.

And this shifting from setting to setting, context to context isn't over yet. Next week, I get some down time - maybe. Finishing up schoolwork and such. And then, the week after that, I graduate. And then I start my summer job. Well, my first summer job. I still need to find something for the second half of the summer...

Our house was so busy today - not in the full of people sense, but in the my father didn't really get a chance to eat lunch because there was always someone to talk to sense. For most of the day, people were there in small numbers, and my father was at the center of an intimate circle. All day, he was telling stories. I heard so many stories today that I feel like I can't remember a single one now - just this general sense that my father is so good at telling stories, and that my family has so many stories to tell.

This evening, my father was speaking with a close friend over the phone, after everyone had left. He was telling her how it's hard, having people from different parts of his life visiting at the same time, because he's not really supposed to introduce people to each other. Instead, he decided to use stories to help people get to know each other, by finding some event or experience that would connect different people to each other - maybe another mutual friend, or maybe the fact that they both went to Ramah. So he used these stories and reminiscences to connect people to each other. It just served to make me once again aware of how wonderful an educator my father is, but it also brought to a conscious level in my mind the power of stories, and the fact that my father knows how to use that power. He loves stories - he collects haggadot partly for that reason, I think - and he tells stories, and he has taught me to appreciate stories. It is amazing how much can be accomplished if only you can find the right story.

I also came to see my grandfather in a different way, through other people's eyes - he was described tonight by my brother as the patriarch of the family, and it's true. My brother pointed out that even if my father was leading the sedder, my grandfather was in the seat of honor, and that even though he was the fourth child of six, he was the one who quietly assumed that role as the leader. I never thought about it that way until I listened to my brother this evening. It's amazing what comes out when you share memories and tell stories. It was such a rich experience, sitting in that circle today, at different points throughout the day, and listening to the different stories my father recounted to different sets of people. He was very much in his element, and I learned so mcuh about who my grandfather was. In some ways, I have come to know him better over the past few days than I did when he was alive. (A comment that someone else also made when they came to visit).