Wear the Yellow Shirt
yellow - gelb
As a parent of a graduate, you know it is not about you. At the same time - there was this rush of urgency in me that wanted to make sure I shared everything with Klara before she headed off to Vienna. (I now know what my parents felt like when I left for the big city on my own). And so I went about writing a letter. But then I stopped. I felt like I needed other experiences in life to be shared. That's when I sent emails and posted on my social media site for other women to share their stories and advice to a new graduate.
I felt like if I got 10-15 stories I would have had a success. As it turns out 35 women wrote stories of hope, courage, love and life. I compiled it and added photos of Klara throughout her life to date. I am forever grateful for these women helping to shape Klara's future. This book will be a treasure for Klara not just today but forever. And I will treasure the gift these women gave to us both.
I don't feel it is my place to share the stories of others without their permission - but this is the little story I wrote to close out the book:
Wear the Yellow Shirt
You would think that I have nothing left to say. I have talked to you endlessly about everything you have wanted to know, and everything you wished I never brought up. For the past 17 plus years, I have shared stories of my adventures, my successes and my failures, in hopes they show you that everyone’s path is unique. And yet, here I am - saying more...
I figured I would end with a story of my own. Perhaps one you may not have heard me tell.
My parents sent me to a private boarding school for the last 4 years of school. I don’t mention it much, because I didn’t enjoy those years. I didn’t fit in. I lived at home and commuted everyday. I was not a rich kid. (My parents worked their asses off to give me this opportunity.) I wasn’t athletic. And I wasn’t very talkative in school (shocker, huh?). I was just a normal kid with strong opinions that most chose not to learn about, nor did I care to share them. I put my head down and powered through the four years. At one point, Grandma asked me what it would take for me to fit in and make friends. I told her, “Well, I would need to wear a certain light blue shirt and Laura Ashley skirts. I would need to brag about all the things I have or that I have done. Basically, I would need to be, not me.”
Of course, Grandma was happy with my choices, but felt bad that I didn’t have friends. The next day, she showed up with a light blue button down shirt and laid it out on my bed. She looked at me and said, “If you wear this shirt like everyone else, you will make friends.” To this day, I am not sure if it was a test. That night I fell asleep thinking about the shirt and my options. Part of me really wanted to sit at a table with kids who seemed perfect. It would be so much easier to just go along with the pack.
The next morning I got up and put on the brightest yellow shirt I could find. I didn’t need to change who I was to find friends. I needed to look for the people that liked me in my yellow shirt--quirks and all. At each point in my life, I have met lots of people, but only kept the ones that love me for me.
Early elementary school I had “friends” that teased me about the food I packed. Can’t remember their names, but I can remember Dina. Middle school and a new town introduced me to my first anti-semitic experiences - being cornered in a bathroom to see my horns. Can’t remember their names, but I can remember Kathleen. Don’t ask me the names of the bullies in my high school. I don’t know, but I remember Amy. I can’t remember all the names of the people I worked with, but I remember Judith and Sheronia. I can’t remember all the people I have invited over for dinner, but I can remember Elizabeth and Caryn. I have had my heart broken more times than I can remember, but found my Stephan.
Days after 9/11, Papa and I were sitting in our NYC apartment wanting nothing more than a baby, but wondering if it was the right time in the world. Less than a year later, you arrived. And now you are graduating in the midst of a pandemic and a louder call for racial justice. These events will be part of what defines your generation. They are a part, just like you. But they are not the only things that will define your generation. Your response will be what defines your generation. You will be part of the answer. You are someone who is not afraid to speak up. You are one who understands the need for a just world.
Don’t be afraid to wear your brightest yellow shirt.
