Bubbeh's Stone
It was at the tender age of sixteen that I realized that I was
plain. I could handle short and flat but plain added insult to
injury. Teenage angst overcame reason coloring my world a nice
shade of plum. It was during this time that I learned a most
wonderful lesson from my Bubbeh.
The boys had long since headed for The Woods to scare squirrels
and build forts as I sat hunched over my pint jar of "cow" milk
like a lone drunk on Sunday coming up only to trace a pattern on
the scrub worn table and sigh. Bubbeh was busy at the other end
of the table wrestling a challah into submission seemingly
unaware of my tortured existence. I wasn't surprised because no
one else seemed to worry that my world was slowly imploding.
Upon finishing the braided loaf, she softly talked to it in
Hebrew put in the oven and turned her attention to me.
"Well, it would seem to me that someone might not be happy." She
poured herself a cup of coffee and sat opposite of me.
"Oh, it's nothing, really," punctuating with a heavy sigh
instead of a period.
"I know I don't know much about these modern things. For
example, this music you listen to with the loud screaming, it
wears me through."
I smiled. She understood music, modern and master, she was a
wonderful musician, but she liked to make these little "old
person" statements.
Her soft hand touched mine. I loved the feel of her hands and
the light scent of lavender that lingered with her touch.
"No, modern I don't know, but I do know my ziskeit. You are very
unhappy."
I lifted my eyes to meet hers. How can so many years be bridged
when eyes meet? How does one soul know it has found the safe
harbor of another? Even now, I still wonder; however, in that
moment I knew I could trust her with my heartbreak.
"Please don't laugh," I begged softly even though I knew she
would not, still something in me needed reassurance.
"Between the two us there is only love no laughter."
"I'm plain," I didn't mean to cry but it seemed so silly and
painful at the same time. Once it came out and mingled with
reality, it sounded so harsh. "And don't tell me how pretty I am
because I know it's not true. I'm just plain."
"Well, now this is not what I expected to hear but I think that
I can help." She stood up and walked to her bedroom. It was just
off the kitchen and I could hear her talking to herself as she
searched through her closet. I always loved that about her, the
way she puzzled things aloud. Finally, she came back into the
kitchen holding something in her hand, hiding it from my view
until she sat down.
"This is one of my dearest possessions. It was given to me by my
Zaideh when I was a little girl to explain the secret of life."
She placed before me the ugliest stone I had ever seen.
Actually, it was half a stone. It sat in front of me a little
dome of ugly.
"This, ziskeit, is you."
I could have died, there before me was my life and future, or
lack thereof. I wasn't plain I was ugly, a little ugly half lump
of a rock.
"Well, thank you, Bubbeh, but I didn't need to be reminded. I
shouldn't have said anything."
I stood up quickly pushing the chair behind me fully intending
to storm out of the room.
"You will sit down, young lady, and listen to what I have to
say."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You see only the outside of my little stone. Yes, it is not a
pretty thing on the outside but every time I look at it I see a
new swirl of color or little wrinkle because I know its secret."
"Secret?"
"Why, yes, there is more to this little stone then what you see
on the outside."
"Right, the inside looks like the outside. It's just an ugly old
rock."
"Oh, excuse me, Miss Modern Teenager! I forget how much more you
young people know." The edge in her voice told me that I had
crossed the line and needed to retreat.
"I didn't mean any disrespect, Bubbeh, it's just, well, it's a
rock like any other rock."
"Turn it over."
"Ma'am?"
Very softly, she repeated, "Turn it over."
I touched the rock tentatively slowly turning it over. I gasped
at the beauty within. It was an amethyst geode. I was in awe.
"It's beautiful." The word could not adequately capture what my
eyes, my heart, my soul embraced but it was all I had.
"We are all like that little rock, ziskeit. On the outside, the
world can only see one side of us but that is not the most
beautiful side. What is important is the inside, that's where
the real treasure lies."
The little rock sits on my desk, a little lump of ugly. It sits
there waiting for one of my students to ask, "Why do you keep
that ugly thing on your desk?"