My bubbe, Regina Blumenthal, passed away Tuesday night at the age of 85. The lovely Romanians who run the small Scottsdale residential facility where she’s been living for the past few years say she ate her dinner, let out a big sigh and gently left the dimension. May we all pass so easily.
She was born Regina Dines in Warsaw and came to New York as a child after my great grandfather sniffed something ugly in the Polish air during the mid-1930’s. She married my piano-playing grandfather, George Blumenthal, towards the end (?) of WWII and lead a bohemian life in Coconut Grove near Miami. She had my mother in 1945; she had a son a few years later who died of cystic fibrosis at four years old. She never mentioned my mother’s brother to me; I only know because my mother told me.
I don’t know when she began to paint, but I have several giant, abstract canvases in dark, complex colors that I never get tired of looking at. She contracted rheumatoid arthritis at some point before I was born and never painted again, but she always talked about art. She and my grandfather knew more about classical music that anyone I’ve ever met to this day.
I don’t remember her as being anything other than old, but these last five years she reached a zenith of cronedom, sitting like a Buddha on her couch, her big dark eyes blinking. I wish I could post a photo of her when she was young, ’cause Here she is the summer before my mother was born – (muchas gracias, Pepe Pringos!!) she was a real knockout. My mother, her only child, and my father devoted so much time and energy to her care – they’ve set a very high bar for honoring one’s parents. When it became necessary to move Bubbe and my grandfather to Scottsdale from the Miami home that they’d lived in for over 50 years, my parents spent weeks sorting through piles of junk Bubbe insisted were treasures. When my grandfather became ill and couldn’t care for himself anymore, my mom and dad bore the brunt of Bubbe’s hysteria with much grace.
Bubbe could be difficult and dramatic, especially as my grandfather was dying. She also had a great sense of humor and deeply appreciated beauty in all forms. She truly loved my grandfather; when El Yenta Man and I went to visit with our then-2 month-old son, she showed us recent photos of them skinny-dipping in the pool. What kind of 70-somethings are still hot for each other?
She was not religious at all. Her father was hyperobservant and mean, mean, mean, so I think she associated Judaism with her negative upbringing. She didn’t attend my mother’s bat mitzvah a few years ago, and she wouldn’t come to the synagogue for my grandfather’s memorial service. She requested to be cremated, and we’re planning to spread her ashes in Miami’s Biscayne Bay, the same place my mother spread my grandfathers’. I guess this isn’t necessarily kosher, but it’s what that side of the family has always done. I told this to a frum woman I know and she was horrified. But what difference does it make to God if a body breaks down in a gust of flames versus decomposing slowly in a box? Doesn’t it all end up as dust on the shelves of heaven?
Even though I can picture her shaking her gnarled index finger at me, I’m going to say the Mourners’ Kaddish for her anyway. I’ve always learned that we say it for ourselves, the living, because the dead have already returned to the loving arms of our Creator, so she can just ignore me. In fact, I hope she’s too enthralled to be sitting at my grandfather’s heavenly piano once again.
Rest in peace, Bubbe Reggie.
baruch dayan emet
What a wonderful woman! You come from great sources Yo.
Baruch dayan haemet.
Yo, please accept my condolences. By the way, Bohemians are the best!
Also, Rashi approved of women reciting Kaddish (I think Rabbi Feinstein did as well). If you’re into lengthy books on limited subject matters, try ‘Kaddish’ by Leon Wieseltier – he’s the literary editor
of New Republic Magazine; Orthodox upbringing, Bohemian adulthood. It’s perhaps my favorite book, a compilation of midrashim and a history of the kaddish interspersed with his comments.
Thank you so much for sharing her story, and my condolences to you and your family. I remember seeing those paintings at your house and now I have some wonderful stories to go with the woman who created them. She sounds like she was truly one of a kind. You are in my thoughts dear friend.
baruch dayan emet…
May you be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
Yo, I hope one of my grandkids can write something so tender and loving when I hit the sky.
Yo,
In my line of work, I often get bummed that I only get to know interesting people when they are so very sick. Thank you for introducing your Bubbie to us, giving us the opportunity to know her. I am glad that she had such a dignified journey. Be well.
Oh my darling, what a beautiful tribute to your Bubbe! She would be annoyed you told anyone she was from Poland (she was SO contemporary American) and secretly very pleased you talked about her trendsetting, Bohemian lifestyle. Your grandparents were “the couple” to know for crazy Coconut Grove parties. Your rebellious, non-conformist streak comes from an artsy woman who entertained many with her intelligence, humor and costumed-style–all done without apologies for eccentricities. She loved you.
MOM
What a beautiful tribute. We both know that Reg was a complex person. Your words truly express the exquisite pleasure of a genuine relationship with such an individual and the quirky price that we willingly pay for the experience. I’m proud to say that none of the time-honorerd cliches about mothers-in-law even come close. Instead I have a rich, unique and lengthy list of pleasures and prickles born of a relationship that has been a huge factor in my life. In the end I always sought her approval. I think I saw it in the warm smile she managed the day before she left us.
Dad
Well done. You said it all. I think in her mind, she was that free-spirited, beautiful, eccentric artist until the very end. Reading your tribute and seeing that picture (which I’m guessing was taken on Miami Beach) makes me think that minus a 60 year gap, BR and GG are two people that I would have really had fun hanging out with. It’s fun to think about when I go places they frequented (I ate lunch at the Rusty Pelican not too long ago). Thanks for putting that up. Ara
Jessica,
I feel very lucky to have met both your grandparents. Seeing the pictures you posted with your thoughtful essay completed something for me. Maybe it is seeing them in their youth.
What romance, what beauty and intelligence.
The apples did not fall far from the tree. I feel lucky to have known your family and witnessed so many wonderful moments over the last 31 years.
Kindest regards and our condolences,
Kate
Jessica,
She sounds like an amazing person. I couldn’t believe how much you look like her! She’s beautiful.