March 3
My wonderful mother passed away late Wednesday of congestive heart failure. Jan was an original, a brilliant and creative person who loved poetry, root beer floats and classic movies. I can’t believe I’ll never be able to call her for advice or to brag about her grandchildren (the “baby geniuses,” she called them) again.
Jesse and I will share plans for her funeral as soon as we can.
The past few months were difficult for Jan, but I’m choosing to think of her as she was in this photo, taken three years ago today: relaxing on the couch with a good book.
March 4
I’ll share some of my favorite photos of Jan over the next week or so… My mom never stopped standing up for what she believed in. Then: an anti-war protest at Skidmore in the 1960s when RFK visited campus. My mom’s at far right, hair parted in the center, holding a peace sign.
And more recently: The Binghamton women’s march in January 2017, which she participated in with me and my daughters.
March 5
These are some of my favorite photos from when Jesse and I were little. As a mother, she was ahead of her time in every way, from breastfeeding and baby-wearing to Pinterest-worthy birthday parties decades before the Internet was created.
Years and years later, when I was a mom myself, I could truly understand the patience, creativity, intelligence and dedication that went into baking us homemade cakes, driving me to a bazillion ballet classes, painting personalized pumpkins for Jesse’s friends every fall for his birthday, reading us so many books, taking us to museums, all of it.
March 7
Watching the rain and listening to songs that remind me of my mom this morning. We always had music playing at home. When I was little, I thought every song was either Paul Simon or The Beatles, maybe Joni Mitchell if I was sure it was a woman’s voice. Later, when Sophie was little, I remember my mom singing “Stay Up Late” by Talking Heads to the baby, especially when she was asleep and my mom wanted to play with her.
Here’s Jan in 1978, wearing the Dr. Scholl’s sandals she loved.
I put a few songs that remind me of Mom into this playlist:
March 9
My mom loved being a grandmother, starting from the days when the babies would sleep cuddled up on her chest in the big chair in our living room. No interest or accomplishment of theirs was too obscure or too small to be celebrated. She established the girls’ massive personal libraries, even buying every single children’s book that had the name “Sophie” in the title when Sophie was born.
Once when we were on our way home from the mall with my mom, 2-year-old Sophie objected to her sitting in the back seat. “No, Bubbe, get out of this car!” the toddler shouted. Other grandmas might have burst into tears. But my mom said, “That’s a seven-word sentence! Wow, Sophie!” and got in beside her car seat.
My mom, who had orchestrated all kinds of elaborate birthday festivities for me and my brother, joyfully joined in when it was my turn to do the organizing. My favorite was when she donned robes to teach “Herbology” at Sophie’s Hogwarts-themed party.
The kids remember watching lots of movies at her house and the way she would have them pick out an ice cream treat at the supermarket — and let them have Klondike bars for lunch while they were visiting.
We will miss her so.
March 10
My mom was a reader her whole life — before, during and after her years as a librarian. She had an insatiable curiosity about the world and read widely on subjects ranging from science to art history, with tons of fiction and poetry always in the mix.
These were the books she took off her shelves during her last couple of days at home. From a children’s classic to an appreciation of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the stack is a great representation of Jan’s flexible, boundless intelligence.
Jan gave books as gifts, talked to everyone she met about what they were reading and often advised people not to keep reading a book if they weren’t enjoying it. (Myself, I’m a compulsive finisher.) She never left the house without something to read.
She was probably the best-read person I ever met, as comfortable discussing translations of the Iliad (I believe she was partial to the Lattimore) as she was murder mysteries (favorites included the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich and Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache books). We bought two copies of “The Master and Margarita,” and were looking forward to reading it together soon.
My mother connected me to writers who changed my life (I first read Vonnegut after receiving one of his books as an afikomen prize when I was 14) and to a life of the mind that continues to nourish me.
March 12
My mom was an excellent, unconventional cook. She was a vegetarian most of her life. She tried to steer us away from anything sugary as kids, but turned out to be a very permissive grandmother.
We have so many funny food stories in the family.
One year, Jan tried to prepare a very traditional Hanukkah dinner for a party. To her, that meant serving brisket. She marinated the meat in something extremely hot before cooking it. When the kids tasted the meat, we all were left in tears from how spicy it was. A guy at the party who boasted about how much he loved hot food took some and ended up downing an entire pitcher of water. My dad later put the leftovers into a special Tupperware container marked with a skull and crossbones.
When I started public school in sixth grade and (finally!) tried cafeteria food for the first time, I encountered an amazing dish at lunch one day. It was like lasagna, but instead of eggplant there was meat in it! I raved about it to my mother, who could only roll her eyes. (Obviously, her veggie lasagna was superior; luckily for me, I realized that not too many years later.)
When I graduated from high school, a family friend gave me the Betty Crocker Cookbook. He wrote a note to me that said something along the lines of: “I know the kinds of things your mom cooks, but you should know about what everyone else in the country actually eats.”
My Australian grandmother was not such a great cook. I remember my mom telling me that after she married my dad she eventually realized she didn’t have to make the same meals in the same rotation that she had eaten growing up. Jan was especially relieved that she never had to have meatloaf with stewed tomatoes again! She and my father made their own applesauce and tomato sauce when they lived in Doylestown.
Jan loved Vegemite on slightly burnt toast, licorice, fried scallops, French pastry, Indian food, grilled cheese (swiss on rye) dipped in good mustard, watermelon, mashed potatoes, quiche, omelets and gazpacho. In the past few months, the mushroom soup from Whole in the Wall was one of her favorite meals.
She believed anyone who could read could cook. She took on complicated recipes without worrying (the way I do). She made spanakopita in perfect little triangles, stuffed grape leaves and amazing banana bread with apricots and nuts in it. I can remember getting roped into chopping vegetables for gazpacho more than once with Heather when we were teenagers.
I’m going to share some of Jan’s favorite recipes here so you can give them a try if you’d like.
March 14
My mother was laid to rest today after a week of rollercoaster March weather that saw springlike temperatures, two snowstorms and minor flooding. I will miss her always.
Give voice to the anguish in your heart.
Talk. Weep. Rage.
You grieve deeply because you loved deeply.
Grief is love not wanting to let go.
— Rabbi Earl Grollman
March 18
This weekend, Jewish communities across the country will be marking the 100th anniversary of the first American bat mitzvah.
My mom took on so many projects leading up to my bat mitzvah in 1988. Here’s a classic behind-the-scenes photo of her on the couch in her nightgown. Looks to me like she’s talking on the phone while lettering the favors she was creating for the teens who attended. We each received a small acrylic clipboard with our name and a drawing on it.
My mom also embroidered my tallit. She was famous for finishing big projects at the absolute last minute, and this was no exception. We were tying the knots in the tzitzit at the corners on the way to Temple Judea the morning of the bat mitzvah!
When people would ask her what the theme for the party was going to be, she famously used to reply: “God, Torah and the Jewish people!” They would laugh and she would look them straight in the face and tell them how serious she was about it. And, indeed, there was no theme in sight that day, not even at the height of 1980s kitsch.
I’m so glad my own daughters were both able to experience the joys and challenges of bat mitzvah preparation, and that my mom was there to celebrate with us.
March 21
Today is World Poetry Day. I’m thinking of my mom and of the way she experienced other lives, other places, other emotions through reading and especially through reading poems. I thought I’d share a couple of contemporary pieces we both enjoyed.
My mom was passionate about poetry. She attended the Dodge Poetry Festival with her dear friend Ryki many times during the past 20 years and amassed a poetry book collection of around a thousand volumes.
I was an English major but never developed a love of poetry to match my mom’s. In fact, one of the memories I’m sorriest about from my teens is the night Jan took me along for a poetry reading at the local community college. The Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko was speaking that night. He was a celebrated dissident known for a long poem titled “Babiyy Yar,” about the Nazi massacre of Jews in Kiev and the Soviet Union’s refusal to acknowledge it. I recall feeling drowsy during the reading and being ready to leave the minute it was over. I’m sure my mom would have liked to have stayed, maybe get her book signed. But we left.
Jan never stopped seeking out intellectual and cultural events like that. And with time I was a (much) more reliable companion for them. We had tickets to hear Margaret Atwood speak at Binghamton University next month.
The Coker Family 