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Dearest Ruth and Judy,
We always talk about Bea in terms of her age, but when I think of her it’s her courage, loyalty, curiosity, and passion that I admire. Raising you guys alone, traveling the world alone, facing race and gender discrimination, being a political activist. And her “softer sideâ€â€”potholders in every color of the rainbow, the flaky layers of rugelach and spanakopita, and the richness of her Fanny cake and chocolate truffles.
We are so lucky to be so fiercely loved by her. I think of her sitting in her corner of the sofa leaning towards Harry, both of them deep in conversation. Teaching us her recipes so the chocolate truffles, Bea juice, Fanny cake, bread pudding and rugelach will not die with her. Urgently wanting to share her favorite pans so we can keep making good things in them. Telling us her stories—I wish they were written down. And the fussing—the crochet feuds, the humidity, the door slam and whatever it was that caused her to screech Ruthhhhhhhhhâ€! We knew we were losing her when her voice got softer. And yet, she still passionately loved that last best sunset on Block Island and chocolate ice cream cone (see attached).
She has made our lives so rich.
We always talk about Bea in terms of her age, but when I think of her it’s her courage, loyalty, curiosity, and passion that I admire. Raising you guys alone, traveling the world alone, facing race and gender discrimination, being a political activist. And her “softer sideâ€â€”potholders in every color of the rainbow, the flaky layers of rugelach and spanakopita, and the richness of her Fanny cake and chocolate truffles.
We are so lucky to be so fiercely loved by her. I think of her sitting in her corner of the sofa leaning towards Harry, both of them deep in conversation. Teaching us her recipes so the chocolate truffles, Bea juice, Fanny cake, bread pudding and rugelach will not die with her. Urgently wanting to share her favorite pans so we can keep making good things in them. Telling us her stories—I wish they were written down. And the fussing—the crochet feuds, the humidity, the door slam and whatever it was that caused her to screech Ruthhhhhhhhhâ€! We knew we were losing her when her voice got softer. And yet, she still passionately loved that last best sunset on Block Island and chocolate ice cream cone (see attached).
She has made our lives so rich.
