Coming Full Circle

Dear Boo and Bubble,

The humorist Andy Rooney once wrote, “It's paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn't appeal to anyone.” With almost 72 revolutions around the sun under my belt, I can relate to the statement. There is such exhilaration in the opportunities offered to those whose lives roll out in the way they should…with enough days to gain insight and wisdom looking back over time…and especially the chance to offer such to their offspring and beyond like I try to do for you with The Bridge Project.

For me, though, the one most particularly gratifying benefit of a long life is the prospect of getting to “re-experience” events and circumstances that were profoundly meaningful the first time around…but with the added understanding of their significance that only hindsight can impart. It’s like getting icing on a cake full of delicious memories.

A few weeks ago, this very phenomenon happened to me. It was the coming-of-age celebration for Douglas and Rachel Woldorf held at the Tree of Life Congregation in Columbia, SC. As a point of orientation, in the Jewish faith when a boy turns thirteen and a girl twelve, they are considered old enough to take responsibility for their actions and to officially participate in Jewish worship. It is one of the most significant rites in the faith…one that is preceded by months of commitment and preparation…including intense study of the Hebrew language, learning passages from the Torah, preparing a sermon, and dedicating time to community service…all of it culminating in a Shabbat service recognizing the achievement. For a boy, this is call Bar Mitzvah. For a girl, Bat Mitzvah... and anyone who witnesses a Bar or Bat Mitzvah comes away with a profound understanding of the rich history of the Jewish people and of the familial bonds so entrenched in their faith.

Douglas and Rachel are the children of Lauren Gendil Woldorf, who was your Aunt Bee’s best friend growing up in Columbia. The two girls met on the first day of first grade at Forest Lake Elementary School and immediately bonded over their common pairs of pink tennis shoes. Through the years, until Aunt Bee’s ballet took her on a different path, she and Lauren were inseparable. Lauren went on every vacation trip with us and participated in all our family activities. As a result, Captain and I came to know her parents—Steve and Sheila, two of our dearest friends—and our families grew very close.

Over the years, we shared our traditions with each other. Lauren spent many a Christmas Eve with us and woke up Christmas morning to her stocking filled with surprises and loads of presents under the tree. When we sat down at the table for turkey and dressing, our guests included Steve and Sheila. Conversely, we were always invited to their home for the lighting of the Menorah during Hanukkah. It was a relationship based on love, mutual respect and appreciation for our chosen religions.

A little over 27 years ago, Lauren attained her twelfth year and started the ardent journey toward her Bat Mitzvah. At the same time, Aunt Bee began classes at Trenholm Road United Methodist Church, a commitment that would ultimately lead to her prescribed confirmation as a full participant in the worship of the church. We didn’t know it at the time, but the days on which these two best friends formally matured into their respective faiths would fall on the same weekend…Shabbat on Saturday and Sabbath on Sunday.

Both of your great grandfathers on your mother’s side were still alive and they came to Columbia that weekend. Although their primary intent was to witness Aunt Bee’s confirmation, both Granddaddy Schaefer and Granddaddy Cottrell were included in Lauren’s Bat Mitzvah and the festive celebrations that followed. However, the significance for us all became more poignant when Lauren invited Aunt Bee to actually participate in the service…at the time, a very rare honor for a Christian.

After the tribute to Lauren on Saturday, we all…the Tallys, Gendils and two granddaddies… gathered on Sunday morning at Trenholm Road Methodist for Aunt Bee’s confirmation service. The glorious weekend came to an end as we ate lunch together around our dinner table, heads bowed…lifting up a prayer in our chosen faiths to the God who had brought us together by the happenstance of pink tennis shoes.

As I once again sat in a synagogue…watching Lauren’s children Douglas and Rachel standing in front of the congregation reciting the language of their ancient fathers and receiving blessings from their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles…my mind harkeneed back to that day over a quarter century ago. And, I couldn’t believe that enough time had passed for this history to be repeating itself. It seemed only yesterday that Lauren and Aunt Bee were standing there together, both only twelve years old. We had come full circle.

You both know that Granddaddy Schaefer used to write editorials for The Greenville News for several years before he died. After he came home from that weekend, he composed one to commemorate his observations and feelings for those who read them. I think it only appropriate to share with you his words — that rang so true then and remain so now.

What Great Teachers Grandchildren Can Be

Sunday, May 17, 1992 — Schaefer Kendrick

And the Lord God said it is not good that man and woman shall be alone, therefore, he endowed them with the power to beget, and it came to pass that Adam and Eve did create children, but they were sorely marred. So…God said, “I will not leave it to Adam and Eve to create grandchildren. This I shall do myself, and they shall be the brightest gem in all creation.” And so, he did, and so it was, and so it is.

I have seven grandchildren, all girls, each of whom is a three-dimensional, moving monument to the story related above. They have an inner beauty of innocence of divine origin which declares the glory of His might works. They teach. They teach their grandpa that age is not measured by time, that age is a frame of mind, an attitude, an outlook, a zest, which, when rightfully practiced, mocks the mortician into a morose meditation on mendacity. They teach. What great teachers they are!

This past weekend, granddaughter Lyn was my tutor. She is our “going on” 13-year-old. Her best friend since first grade is Lauren.

On Saturday, Lauren had her Bat Mitzvah. She invited Lyn, Lyn’s mom, dad and sister, and Lyn’s two surviving grandparents, Cottrell and me, to join in the celebration.

I had never been to a Bat or Bar Mitzvah. It was a profound experience, made more deeply profound for me by Lyn’s participation in the service.

My late mate, Mary, was a thoroughly inoculated, social gospel oriented, ecumenically minded, John Wesley united Methodist who joined my Baptist church because we were settling in my hometown, and she felt strongly we should worship together as a family. She never verbalized this thought, but I knew her well enough to know that deep down she felt it to be Baptist arrogance to refuse to recognize the validity of her Methodist baptism. And though she was immersed from the tip of her toes to the top of her head, she remained a Methodist until the day she died.

This granddaughter of ours, who was participating in her friend’s rite of passage, was wearing her white dress in which she would be confirmed in the United Methodist Church the following day.

As I sat in the synagogue listening to Mary’s granddaughter read from the Torah; as I heard Lauren declare in the Hebrew tongue her faith and heritage, I could hear, echoing down through the ages, the faint sound of the ram’s horn calling the children of Abraham and Sarah to once again assemble to celebrate the right of passage, and to affirm and reaffirm that these chosen people of the Book did, and will, survive slavery, exile, inquisition, pogroms, ghettos, dispersal, persecution and even holocaust.

Yes, the ram’s horn will again and again and again summon the faithful to celebration and to survival. And they will celebrate, and they will survive.

As I sat in the Tree of Life Synagogue, I found the definition of ecstasy I had searched for, for so long! It is the state of mind when one has thoughts so lofty, they are beyond the reach of words. Shalom.