Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Cynthia Groopman

December 14, 2007

My Wonderful Grandmother
by Cynthia Groopman


As I passed by the empty room, the beautiful picture of a young, smiling lady
hung regally on the wall. I went over to the picture, and touched it. I felt an embrace and heard the voice of a lady whom I have not heard since April 23, 1978. Of course, this was all a dream, because my grandmother has been residing with God, in His glorious kingdom for 26 years.

My imagination was working overtime, but that voice, her beautiful smile, the fond embrace, and the soft touch of her hand, all took me back to a gentler and more loving time of my life. This was a time when I was a child, and my grandmother would sit on her rocking chair and tell me stories of her youth.

Rose Rubin, was indeed a rose, with a face that sparkled like the dew, and a
smile  as bright as the shining sun on a radiant springtime day. Her voice was like that of a hummingbird, since she loved to hum.

Born in a small town in Russia in 1888, Rose was one of twelve children. She
lived in a village or statle that was composed of Jews who were persecuted by the Tsar.
She was ill as a child and her dad died when she was age 5. Her mom brought her to the Rabbi in the town. He placed his hand on her heart and she was cured. That was indeed a miracle. Those were the days of Mystericism.

Rose was talented and was chosen to learn to sew. She was selected to make a far, distant journey into the unknown, and when she was fifteen she went to America. She was the pioneer. In the middle of the night, she was taken by train to a ship where she was in steerage. For many, many days she sailed across an unknown ocean.

She was concerned, but in her heart danced the joy of being free. At Ellis Island, she was examined, and her cousin and uncle were there to meet her. Here was a little fifteen year old who did not know a word of English and who did not know anything about the vast new frontier that lay before her.

She slept in a kitchen on three chairs. Everyday she would go to work as a seamstress. She was great and worked for a wealthy concern where she fitted and sewed dresses for the rich.

 They loved Rose. Rose, who turned out to be a charming woman. She soon married at age 20, to an American obeist.  Gradually, grandmother brought all of her family to America. She worked hard and all the fourteen people in her immediate family were with her, settled and happy.

Grandmother had three children and was happily married. Suddenly in 1929, the curtain of happiness turned into a veil of sadness and tragedy. Her obeist husband, Samuel had walking pneumonia and died. Grandmother sat up all alone on that June night and said  she had to take herself in  hand, and raise three children. She did. She worked in a
factory with no union and worked very hard, but she endured. Her hard work enabled her
three children to go to college.

Grandmother was thrilled in November of 1946 when her only daughter, Edith married.
She then took on another loving duty, to clean house and care for my mom and her husband. Soon after, Rose became a grandmother. She was the one who on August 3, 1948 in the middle of the night, went up the hill of the Bungalow colony to get the doctor. My mom was in premature labor.

Again grandmother endured and with her pioneering spirit she was the leader of the family. Grandmother took care of my brother Jay, as a child and she
was gentle and kind.

As I grew up, grandmother told me stories, taught me Jewish customs, songs and Yiddish reading and writing.  She was my best friend, a lady to whom I confided, and one who always was there for me. She would rock me to sleep when I was sick and hold me on
her lap and sing to me.

She was there for us and lived with us for 25 years, sharing our joys, sorrows, and triumphs. Every step of the way, she was there, when i learned to walk, when I was
in a recital, when I graduated from college and when I became a teacher.

Then, one night, I was sitting with her and it was in January of 1975, and she
fell off the chair. She had a stroke.

In the nursing home, she would sit in the wheelchair and I would sing to her, tell her stories and do the same that she would do for me when I was weak and young.

The day before Passover in 1978, which was in April, I saw her for the last time. She squeezed my hand, kissed it and pinched my cheek. I hugged her so much and she was smiling and had an angelic glow.

That night, the call came that my grandmother angel went to heaven. I shall never forget that wonderful lady, who added meaning, joy, love and richness to a child's, teen's and young adult's life. She is in my dreams, in my thoughts and I shall never forget her. She made such an impact on my life.

From her, I have inherited the spirit of being a pioneer, of being courageous, of never giving up and of always helping and caring. She is a person whom I shall admire, love and revere forever, for bringing her family to that golden
land, and joy to all of us.

Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net