Our Father Our Child

I just read Our Father Our Child by Sudy Rosengarten. It was a poignant read.  She tells about her father-in-law, a G-d fearing, fervent Chassid who raised seven Chassidishe children in Toronto before there was any Jewish schooling there, quite a miracle.

 

He and his wife eventually move to Eretz Yisrael and Mrs. Rosengarten and her husband move there too, so her in-laws will have children near them.  Time passes, children are born, grandchildren marry and live in Eretz Yisrael.  Her mother-in-law dies and the book tells about how Mrs. Rosengarten and the extended family do their utmost to care for their partriarch.

 

There are parts to cry over and one very funny chapter to laugh over.  It's inspiring to read of a staunch Yid whose service of Hashem was with such a tmimus and simplicity.  And it's moving to read how the family admires him, loves him, and rallies round him.  It's sad to read about how he eventually ails and suffers.

 

The title of the book is a bit disturbing (see previous post) since referring to him as a child does not sound all that respectful.  It is true that eventually his needs are looked after as one looks after a child, and it is also true that it sounds like they had the utmost respect for him.  The title could have been better.  And the subtitle about the devotion of a daughter-in-law was unnecessary.  Although the author's devotion comes across clearly, the book is not about her.

 

All in all, I would recommend the book, both for the description of a fiery servant of Hashem, for the love of Yiddishkeit that comes across, and for the description of how a family devotedly took care of their father/father-in-law/grandfather.

How We View the Elderly

There was a good article written by Malkie Schulman entitled, "Old People Aren't Adorable."  She is bothered by a subtle disrespect that she frequently observes toward our elderly.  She thinks that the reason for it is that when we see someone physically incapacitated, we often assume they are mentally incapacitated.

 

She describes doctors and nurses not treating the elderly respectfully, though I have to say that I disagree with an example she gives.  Her friend wants to know why, when she takes her mother to the doctor, the doctor speaks to her, the daughter, and not to her mother.  She complains that he acts as though her mother isn't there or is a two year old.  Well, I think the answer lies in her question.  Did she "take her mother to the doctor" when her mother was 30? 40? 50?

 

This reminds me of an anecdote in "My Father, My Mother, and Me" (see here ) in which an elderly mother gently chides her daughter when her daughter says to someone, "I'm taking my mother to the wedding."  Her mother said it would be nicer if she said she was going to the wedding with her mother.  Likewise, saying, "I'm taking my mother to the doctor," sounds like taking a child, while "I'm accompanying my mother to the doctor" is altogether different. 

And did her friend sit quietly throughout the doctor visit or did she take charge? If her mother was the one who spoke to the doctor from the very start while her daughter sat in the waiting room, or if the daughter sat quietly in the examination room, the doctor would know to speak to her mother.

 

Another peeve that Schulman airs is the way people sometimes refer to seniors as cute or adorable.  She thinks it lacks deference and is appropriate for babies and little children.  And when kids went to visit a frum author in her eighties and came back saying she was "very sweet," she wondered whether this meant they did not appreciate her knowledge, her piety or talent.

 

I know what Schulman means.  I've also cringed at well-meaning comments.  For example, after seeing an elderly, ailing person, a young girl described him as "being alert." There was nothing wrong with that, but it rubbed me wrong anyway.  We often exclaim over certain newborns as being alert. 

 

I've cringed at an ad for a senior residence which described the activities available.  Maybe because it sounded like day camp.

 

Then there's "keeping the elderly occupied."  Like little children ...

The Contrast

It seems to me that although there were always fragile people, still and all, people who are older than 65, especially those who were born in Europe (perhaps North Africa as well), handle losses with far greater resilience than younger people.  When you read about the Holocaust and think about how people who witnessed the worst and lost everything or close to it, went on to establish families and in many if not most cases they raised normal children, as well adjusted as anybody else, it's nothing but remarkable. 

In contrast, today's young people don't seem able to cope with adversities far less traumatic than seeing one's family betrayed, wasting away and murdered.  We are inundated with articles in the frum press about people amongst us who are suffering from a multitude of problems and who are not coping with them.  The numbers of frum people on medication to help mitigate anxieties and other such ills is staggering, so it is said.  And anxieties (aka lack of bitachon) are of our own making (I am as guilty as the next one).

As I observed an elderly person the other day, who recently loss her spouse, I thought about this and what I came up with is that the seniors amongst us did not grow up with a feeling of entitlement.  Their parents worked hard and they expected to work hard.  Life wasn't easy and that was life.  Young people in Europe did not negotiate allowances, they didn't expect to be entertained by their parents on Chol Ha'Moed or any other time.  Fun wasn't their supreme value.  They were children and their parents were parents, not their pals.  Americans  too, used to know their place when they were children.  They helped work in the family business and sometimes pitched in to support their families.

It's hard though, to recreate the mentality of yesteryear when our lives, in so many ways, are simply not the same.  Mental health professionals, including religious ones in our communities, are doing their best to inculcate us with the belief that we are suffering from one "disorder" or "syndrome" or another if not outright "illness," and frum publications vie to "undo the stigma". 

I look forward to the swing of the pendulum when we will leave the psychobabble behind and focus on core values once again.