CHOOSE TO SHINE

This month will mark the tenth yahrtzeit of my dear mother, Marsha S. Shine, after whom I named this column. Masha Chaya bas Dan z”l was niftar on the 8th day of Adar II, only a few days before Purim.  Her southern charm radiated to everyone she met. I find personal and profound meaning  in the fact that she was born on Simchas Torah and that she died the week of Purim, both times of joy.

Although she was born on the Lower East Side, she spoke with a Southern drawl.  Her family had moved to Memphis, Tennessee, when she was a young child. It was there that she adopted the slower Dixie lifestyle. My mother got a job at the age of 13 to help support her mom and younger brother. At age 21, she married my father and moved to Chicago, where she found work at a temp agency. She was fired when she got pregnant with me. She encouraged my dad to pursue his dream of owning a commercial art and printing company, so they moved back to Memphis. She helped run the business and did all of the typesetting. She could type 120 words per minute on her IBM Selectric, with zero errors. She became a certified professional secretary and later went to work for the Jewish Family Service. It was there that she became involved in the Jewish community. Although she was not raised in a Torah home, she sent us to the Memphis Hebrew Academy. Later she attended shiurim with my father, and she became fully committed to Torah observance.

My mother was the administrator at Plough Towers, a local high rise for the elderly. She continued her education at Memphis State University, with a specialty in gerontology. She was named student of the year for her perfect GPA. She also organized the first retired senior volunteer program in the state. This program created meaningful ways for elderly residents to give time and service back to their community, and it won several awards.

Our home was a haven for Jewish travelers. People knew they could come at any hour and find food and lodging in our home. My mom took over a clothing gemach from an elderly woman who could no longer keep running it. She examined  every piece to look for holes or stains. Clothing would slowly fill every room of  my parent’s home until a container could be shipped off to Israel.  She took special joy in hand knitting baby blankets for anyone she heard was expecting. She also became close to Rebbitzen Pam, and would drive her on whatever errands were needed. 

I find it ironic that she never got to complete her doctorate since she had helped three separate people earn their own doctorates. It is noteworthy that she specialized in elder studies, but did not live to enjoy her own retirement years. She was always thinking about others, and rarely about herself. I remember visiting her on Erev Purim when she was assembling mishloach manos. Among the festive treats were two huge baskets. My wife asked to whom those would be sent. My mom lit up like a little kid and answered, “they are for y’all of course!” No matter what she did for anyone else, her family was always her primary focus. I am awed by the many things she did for us. She sewed our clothing from scratch, took us to violin lessons, typed our homework, and showed us what it means to “Go and Do.” That was her favorite expression. 

When she was diagnosed with her final illness, I was astounded by her presence of mind. She would always thank her nurses and doctors for every single thing they did. She sent me to buy individual boxes of Godiva chocolates to give out to the hospital staff. She did not complain, even when she was in obvious pain. I still get chills when I recall what was printed on her bedsheet the night she passed. Although she was at the Maimonides hospice in Boro Park, her sheet bore the logo and tagline for New York Presbyterian hospital, “Go and Do Thou Likewise”. Go, and do, her favorite expression.

May her memory be a blessing.