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Heart to Heart
Bar Mitzvah Memories
By Gert Thaler
San Diego Jewish Press-Heritage, January 17, 2003
Memo to co-publisher and editor-in-chief
Harrison:
Dear Boss:
I have become accustomed to your e-mailing me ahead of deadline
telling me the theme of an upcoming issue and suggesting I may wish to relate a
story touching upon such theme. So you can imagine my surprise when I received
last week's issue about bar/bat mitzvah and my not having been
asked to slant my weekly (sometimes weakly) column in that direction. I can only
conclude that the reason you did not prevail upon me is because you
knew I was deep down under the covers with that damn infection for which Drs.
Dennis Goodman and Wayne Hooper have finally taken me off all those
"get well" pills. So I guess I should thank you for your
consideration, Dear Editor, but woman that I am, I stay true to my sex and have
some last words
on the subject.
From the moment last week's issue came in my front door, I settled into my usual
Thursday habit of covering my favorite pieces before turning back to
the beginning and taking in all the other stuff. But it was those adorable
photos of yesterday's bar and bat mitzvah achievers that really had an
effect on me.
I was carried back to my own yesterdays and ceremonies that I am personally
aware of, and I'll begin with a story that has been told over and over and
over again because San Diego County Sheriff
William Kolender is so pleased to tell it with great pride. Many of the
people who have come to San Diego may not be aware that Sheriff Bill was the
first, "The Very First" (as he proclaims in his proud baritone voice)
bar mitzvah at Beth Jacob Synagogue in its original location at 32nd and Myrtle
Streets in San Diego's North Park area in 1948. It would be only a few years
later that he would join our local police force, see himself rise to become the
most popular chief of police the city has ever known and, after several years,
go on to serve in the cabinet of Gov. Pete Wilson in Sacramento, returning a few
years later to be elected San Diego County's sheriff. At 67, Bill is now serving
his third term and still with misty eyes he tells his favorite story of being
Beth Jacob's "first."
There was another bar mitzvah that remains in my memory, this one of Marilyn
Rabin's son, Andrew Hirsh, who, in February of 1962, before his bar mitzvah the
next day, after taking a shower reached for a towel and somehow his ring got
caught on it and in continuing to pull even harder, Andy's index finger was
pulled from its socket and it appeared the ceremony would have to be canceled.
But, being a persistent kid, despite surgery, arrangements were made for the
show to go on, and being accompanied by medical equipment that supported his
right hand in the air, the entire event went off as planned. Gritting his teeth,
the patient was returned to the hospital and today, still wearing the ring at
the age of 44, Andy lives in Los Angeles, is the
father of twin girls and works in the film industry.
Readers probably have their own bar/bat stories to tell, but I am also reminded
of my nephew Alan Douglas' big day in 1954, when his mother (my
sister Lee) had a heart attack and, although our entire family attended the
ceremony at Temple Beth Israel, where Alan;s father, Morris
Douglas, was a
former temple president, his mother tearfully lay in her hospital bed, deeply
disappointed. Today, Alan, at 61 years of age, lives in a suburb of
Sacramento and has just retired as treasurer at Temple Or Rishon in Orangevale.
My own sonıs bar mitzvah was more than just another passage through life for a
boy who was not an astronomic scientist at 13 and whose height
was measured under five feet. We had to have a special foot stool built so that
when he stood on the bima he could be seen by congregants. To this
day I can still hear the words he said and read, all perfectly done, but as to
knowing what he looked like at the moment I cannot tell you. My tears of pride
flowed in profusion and suddenly the endless after-school hours spent in Hebrew
school under the guidance of Rabbi
Baruch Stern (Beth Jacob
Synagogue) and Cantor Friedman added to the parental reward.
It was a gala weekend climaxed with a party for 350 people at our home, with the
consul general of Israel walking into the house with his family and
members of his staff laden with baskets and boxes and taking over a section of
the kitchen in order to prepare and serve honest-to-goodness Israeli
foods, which in 1963 were still new experiences for many of us.
Most of our readers have, themselves, been a parent to a Jewish child reaching
this pinnacle in his or her life. For each of us those moments are
among our most precious memories. It is part of the cycle in our life patterns
that parents plan for. And grandparents at a grandchild's birth are
usually heard to comment that they "should only be allowed to live to have
the naches" of attending the event.
I have been blessed thus far to have such naches on two of these
occasions, for my own grandson and granddaughter. So now my thoughts are
aimed at the joy of seeing them under a chuppah. Still, having a 5-year-old
grandson, my great joy will be that I too will be able to join the family
on his special day.
Our daughter's bat mitzvah marked a milestone. Whenever I hear my good friend,
the sheriff, reminding me he was the first bar mitzvah at Beth
Jacob, I always try to top his story, for Linda Thaler Neiman was the first bat
mitzvah in the synagogue, which in 1960 was known as San Diego's Modern Orthodox
Synagogue and she was permitted to perform from the bima. Today in her
50s and the mother of my two older grandchildren,
she is one of the most organized persons I know and a serious golfer.
When she was 12 years old, she was pretty sure of what she wanted in life, and
her insistence at having a luncheon for only 12 of her best girlfriends
as a celebration, instead of the hoopla her parents had planned, was respected.
I am reminded of that bat mitzvah day of driving all the way across town to the
Kona Kai Club on Shelter Island (Point Loma) and having the
bat mitzvah cake resting on the roof of my car, forgotten to be placed on the
back seat. But, most importantly, of pride and pleasure to those 12 luncheon
guests is the fact that most of them still live in the area and have nourished
their friendships to this very day.
It is not always so fortunate that a celebrant reaches such a day with both
parents and two sets of grandparents in attendance. (For some, even a
great-grandparent.) Such was the case for our grandchildren, Dan (now 25) and
Shelley Neiman (now 23), whose beginnings at Soille Hebrew Day School set the
stage for such an achievement as they continued their Judaic studies at Adat
Yeshurun Synagogue.
On Jan. 25, Dan will observe the 13th anniversary of his bar mitzvah at Adat
Yeshurun Synagogue and many of the same family members and friends
will join him at services. Surely, this will be my moment of naches,
shared with his other grandmother, Elsa Neiman. Today, Dan is a financial
manager and Shelley is attending her first year of law school.
All of these stories relate to members of the San Diego community who are still
connected in one way or another to their roots as with so many other
families.
Everybody has memories of the yesterdays that we cherish. My stories are not
much different from the ones that readers could relate.
But, Dear Editor Don, you had to write the final paragraph to today's column
when you informed me as I worked at my computer that unless you were
mistaken my 83rd birthday would be observed this year and you wanted to make
note of the date. When I inquired of such necessity of information, you
elaborated on the biblical phrase of "three score and ten" as the
expectancy of one's lifespan in the days of our sages and how the 83rd year of
life has
been likened to becoming 13 for a second time.
With a little coercing, I found myself accepting the challenge of a second bat
mitzvah, and I've already reserved the shul, begun designing the
invitation, thought up the menu, made a list, and, oh yes, set a date with the
rabbi for my revitalization. (Hope he has the stamina!)
Don's closing remark? "Boy! What a story thatıs going to make!"