Some people just don't realize how cool they are; i.e., my Aunt Yetta. She lived to be pretty old, in spite of a slew of serious medical problems. When I slept over my Russian Jew grandparents' house, Aunt Yetta took charge. She showed me the "secret attic" in the home that had previously been owned by my Italian Catholic grandparents; a pretty liberal place, don't you think? Is it any wonder that I think bias is boring?
When I was a child, she taught me how to make matzoh brie. When she visited Massapequa where I grew up, I showed her the contents of my very private "junk draw". She never laughed at my treasures, rather found them intriguing. She loved my junk... and she never "told". Ah, trust is everything. In her old age, she crocheted little wreath ornaments for our tree. Ya had to love Aunt Yetta, a woman who understood balance: lasagna/matzoh brie and Christmas ornaments/Chanukah menorahs. The world never has enough compassion for difference.
Most astounding from this gem of a human being was her kindness when my Dad, her brother, died; it is still palpable to me. She came upstate and stayed with our family till she sensed that we were okay to be alone with our sorrow; and she said, "Your Dad had so much to live for, I wish G-d had taken me." I sadly heard that again from Michael Jackson's brother a couple of weeks ago. Does that epitomize love, or what? Of course, I didn't want Aunt Yetta to go, understanding that life just doesn't work that way; but, still....
We never forgot each other's birthdays. So, as I thank my family and friends for a superior and ongoing July 16th celebration, I must say, "Happy July 17th, Aunt Yetta; you are still the coolest to me!"
Seriously, everyone needs an Aunt Yetta.
