December 30, 2008

In Memory of Al

Today I went to the memorial service for my hebrew and Bat Mitzvah teacher, Allen Samlin. He died about a week and a half ago at the age of 80. He was an incredible person who was so passionate about what he taught. He always called me (and everyone really) "babelah". He had a raspy voice but he sung in a high high pitch. His pupils moved like they were in water. Whenever I went to their house, Al and Rose would always offer me a little nosh, a little snack. Our house has heard hours and hours of his voice singing in our house when I played the tapes of the prayers over and over learning my torah portion. Once I tried to write a biography piece about him, which turned into a piece about him and his wife, Rose, because the two are so unified in my mind. But I couldn't do it - I couldn't ask the right questions (the hard questions). I was overwhelmed by the enormity of their lives, and this impossible role I had to write it down, or distill something poinient and useful to people who don't even know them.

I guess I'm still dealing with that in my life and my work now. How can I authentically tell someone else's story, while still being true to their spirit and essence and whatever it is that I love (or hate?) about them. What is the difference between simplifying a life for the purposes of writing a story, or clarifying a theme -- an outsider picking which stories to tell and which to cut -- versus exploiting someone, or getting the whole story wrong? As I'm working on my Division III, I'm constantly trying to figure out this question -- where am I overstepping my bounds, and where am I enabling a story to be shared that would otherwise not be told?

I know I only knew a small small part of this person, but he has touched my life deeply in his dedication to everyone around him. He led his life doing exactly what he was passionate about, and loved it.

1 comment:

nanci said...

That is beautiful!