Jewish Fathers...

I woke up crying...what is my current obsession with my Jewishness...must be Frankl maybe?...babies trying to get here?...don't know...

Anyway, I had a wonderful dream last night. I was sitting in a beautiful ornate dining room. The kind with big crystal chandeliers, beautiful linen tablecloths and napkins, fine crystal...a ballroom setting, quite lovely. I dream of these settings a lot...these gatherings of family and feasting, very nice.

So, I was at a table with Peter and others and the topic of Jewish fathers came up. I was trying to explain the experience, in my family anyway, of the fathers and daughters..this profound emotional connection shared between then...how the fathers enveloped their daughers with this amazing tide of love and feeling cherished. We daughters were walking/talking treasures and felt that way with our fathers. I'm speaking of myself and my cousin Vicki. That's my experience. As I grew older, I learned of the Jewish Princess and saw it through my filter but the stereotype of the whiney, spoiled rich girl didn't seem to fit my experience of the middle class, chubby, only-a-princess-in-the-eyes-of-her-father reality.

In the dream, as I explained this emotionally nourishing and greatly satisfying relationship, my mind was flooded with multiple images of my dad and I. I was NOT an attractive child. I had no discernible talents. I was average in every sense. I didn't talk much. My life was very inward. I spent far too much time alone...I was a "bouncer"...one of those kids you see in institutions or, as I like to say, Bosnian orphanages, just bouncing away in my perfect little silent life...until my dad arrived and then I was EVERYTHING...loved, pretty, talented, funny, something...a grownup that looked at me and smiled when he walked into the room...an amazing feat in the unenlightend 50s and 60s. Poor mom had her hands full...bless HER heart. Dad died when I was 17, about a month before I graduated from high school and that was it.

Anyway, as I was explaining this wonderful father/daughter relationship at this dream table, Pops came into my mind. Pops (my Jewish stepfather) married my Mom when I was only 19 years old (I'm 51 now and he's 94) and it occured to me in the dream that since he developed some senile dimentia, our relationship has, ironically, become more and more like my dad's and mine. He makes me feel loved, funny, valued and treasured. I know, I know, you have to be a little demented to love me...yea, ask my ex-husband. But, what a blessing he has become to me. A few months ago I was in Ohio and we were both standing at the kitchen sink, he, age 94 and I, 51 and we were both taking "fiber"...and I said to him, "Jeesh Pops, you've been around long enough for you and I to take our evening fiber together...whodda thunk it?" and we both laughed.

Well, this is turning into a post much longer than I wanted or expected...must be cathartic. So, again in the dream, as I was extolling the virtues of Jewish fathers, I felt the weight and love of generations of Jewish men for their daughters falling forward, that's the best description I have for it. And then my sons came to my mind. And I woke up crying because I know it will be carried forward through my sons...this ability to love and cherish and make their daughters understand their worth, especially in this day and age. I woke up with a full heart...just needed to get it out. Spirit of Elijah thing...I feel more and more...those grand babies waiting to show up... Love to all.