Don't Tell Me I Can't Do It! (10 page)

Nonsense, I say! It’s not about what we did or didn’t do with the time that’s already come and gone, whether
we’re ninety years old or only twenty. It’s about recognizing that life is to be lived now—not in the past, and not in a future that may or may not develop the way we envision. It’s about taking ownership over what we’re going to do with the rest of our lives, beginning right here and right now. And wherever there’s life, there’s hope. It’s never over until the fat lady sings! If we choose, we can take up the audacious challenge to live for ourselves and for others right here, right now.

I have a very specific vision for the end my life, whenever it comes. Embraced by my family, my children and my grandchildren, I’ll peacefully cross the threshold, ready to join the universe and its mysterious splendor. “Thanks for my journey,” I’ll say, whether aloud or not doesn’t matter. I’ll be smiling as I travel above and beyond, eagerly embarking on the next leg of my eternal voyage.

I don’t know whether that’s the way it will happen or not, but I’ve contemplated my death and will be found ready when it comes. I’m grateful that the parade
of corpses I watched pass below my window in Mogilev still reminds me that tomorrow may never dawn. I can make my plans, but I can’t decide whether I’ll be given the opportunity to execute them from one week to the next. I’m glad this thought impels me to live my life today the way I’ve lived it ever since I was a little girl—with passion, with obstinate determination, with fearless conviction that whatever comes along the way is peculiarly beshert.

T
hroughout this book, I’ve been summarizing a few simple rules by which I choose to live my life. I’m not entirely certain at what point I formulated each of them, but these five sayings have enabled me to savor my experience of the here and now while simultaneously looking upon an uncertain future with bold, confident optimism:

Life is a gift, a journey both smooth and rocky. Flex your muscles of experience.

There is no failure. Disappointments make the joy of accomplishments so much greater.

Hurt brings opportunity for healing. Cherish it all. Live life today. The past is gone. The future might never be.

These statements encapsulate some of the many lessons I’ve learned along a winding but scenic life path—from the helpless squalor of the camps to the responsible comfort of my executive office. Over time, they have solidified into convictions, beliefs that have allowed me to overcome obstacles, savor new victories, and take ownership of my future. They have served me well. I pass them on in this book hoping that others will discover in them the keys to a more meaningful, purpose-filled life in the here and now.

I’ve said before that each day holds new surprises and new opportunities, and I expect this energetic soul still has plenty to learn before all is said and done. As a matter of fact, I’m smack dab in the middle of a learning opportunity right now. In my lifelong quest for self-actualization and achievement, I’ve known the satisfaction of prestige and the esteem of my peers. I’ve received some impressive honors. I’ve earned titles and enjoyed the status that comes along with them. But only late in life has destiny seen fit to grant me five precocious, unique grandchildren who are teaching me to embrace a new kind of dignity. “Grandmotherhood”
is both the most modest and the most ambitious challenge I’ve undertaken yet.

They call me
Bubbe,
which is Yiddish for “grandmother.” I delight in the title, just as I delight in watching my grandchildren evolve through their critical stages of development. I don’t recall paying much attention to my own children as they learned to walk and talk. I suppose I’m making up for that now.

“But Bubbe means an old lady,” Dita once told me. “Why would you want to be called an old lady?”

“Because I am!” I replied, matter-of-fact as usual.

Having grandchildren was never a goal of mine. Years back, I said to my son, “Johnny, if I die tomorrow, don’t cry over me. I’ve had a wonderful life and experienced it all.”

“But Mother,” he exclaimed in indignation, “you haven’t had grandchildren yet!”

He was right, so very right. I could never have imagined then just how special and enriching Bubbe status could be. Watching as the little ones play and learn, grow and develop, I try to imagine what winding paths destiny has in store for them. My hope for them is the
same as for my readers: I want them to live their lives as abundantly and courageously as I’ve learned to live my own. I hope they never settle for less than the very best life has to offer them.

I’m still growing, still taking on new challenges in the process of becoming and experiencing the wonder
of my life’s journey. I’m still living my life audaciously in the here and now. It’s a glorious place to be, and I hope my readers will join me.

To my late mother, Fani Gelber:

I remember the imprecise quote, “We women are smart, often smarter than men. Yet a woman without a man is nothing!” I knew you were only partly right; I proved to you I could “do it” with or without the approval of the man in my life. I hope you’re proud of me, Mama.

To my one and only, quirky, funny husband, the late Jerry Miller:

You were my life partner and biggest fan for fifty-three years. You “allowed” me to evolve away from you and with you. You inspired and applauded my achievements. You still do. Thank you.

Ezer Weizman, Former President of Israel:

To my HERO and Commander in Chief while in the Israeli Air Force from 1952 to 1954. I complained about the difficulty of taking apart and cleaning my rifle, and you assured me I could do it “chayelet” (soldier)!

To Rabbi Gary Ezra Oren, Vice President of American Jewish University and Dean of the Whizin Center for Continuing Education:

You are an inspirational voice in the community, and you hold a significant place in my spiritual development. Your presence in my life motivated me to author this book. Thank you. I dedicate much of this book to you. Thank you for enriching my life.