Conviction was not a cliche

A friend of mine who never met Nana asked me about her yesterday, and I had trouble limiting my answer to less than 10 descriptors:

• Conviction
• Dignity
• Respect
• Fairness
• Honesty
• Unconditional love for family
• Unflappable
• Drawing a clear line between right and wrong
• Composed
• Gracious (as Leslie said)

I'm so proud that Sylvia Cohen was my grandmother. This may sound like a cliche, but her deep convictions speak to a different time when a few special individuals truly believed that they could effect the kind of change we often philosophize about over drinks. It occurred to me that both she and Nathan Cohen came from a time and background where it was okay to succumb to what we now call a "cliche" as long as it was about doing the right thing.

I went to Max's deli with my mother this morning, and we were discussing Sylvia's composure. I recalled that the only times I ever saw her shaken was when she saw something she considered wrong, whether it were small or large in scope, and it was rarely personal in nature. This goes to Leslie's earlier post: "I never saw Sylvia mired in pettiness. She was completely accepting and loving."

I would agree, with only one caveat: there was right and there was wrong with little gray area in between. Each had its own scale, meaning you could be exceptional or just good on the "right" end of the spectrum; but on the wrong end of the spectrum the scale was less forgiving, and I would say it ranged from "taking instead of giving" and "thoughtless pettiness" to "doing harm to others" or any form of cruelty, even if not blatant in nature. She was quick to offer second chances to those she loved, and likely to others as well, but cruelty and pettiness were simply unacceptable.

I'm not necessarily qualified to say she was a feminist before her time but I believe she was. She was fearless about confronting uncomfortable or difficult situations and could discuss almost any issue with a heartfelt and unique perspective that was clearly experiential and not just philosophical. Simultaneously, she could bake brownies, discuss the best way to wash a head of lettuce, and with no apparent dichotomy make serious and difficult decisions, such as whether to take in the Rosenberg children after their parents were executed, as an equal partner in her marriage, or deal with suicidal students at UCLA as a counselor. She never seemed at all unsure of her role; she just acted with graceful intention and discarded the existential part of the equation, at least personally.

Nothing would shock Sylvia. Every family member has at least a few excellent examples of this. Her unflappable nature seemed to come with such ease, even though I can't imagine it really was easy. But her ability to stay out of "dramas for drama's sake" earned her so much respect in and out of the family.

She was instrumental in my own upbringing in many ways, not the least of which was her and Nathan spending months in Long Island with me and my father when I first moved to NY. Beyond any specific thing she did, there was always an overarching sense of warmth and a toughness that I will never forget.

I'll miss Nana and Bumpa greatly.

With much love from their grandson,
Ian