I picture my Aunt Jean in her iconic pose, elbow on the kitchen table with Winston cigarette in hand, sipping from a mug of strong black coffee, then listening to talk shows on her bedside clock radio far into the night. I sometimes joke with her daughter, my cousin Donna, that her mother never ate or slept, she only worked, smoked, and caffeinated. When she hosted bridge games for her friends, she offered Danish pastries to accompany the main dish, the percolating pot of Maxwell House.
When I was eight years old, we discovered our shared interest in national politics. During a family gathering for Rosh Hashanah, my aunt looked directly at me across the dining table and asked, “Barrie, how do you plan to vote?” as if I actually could. I was torn between the heroic General Dwight D. Eisenhower and the thoughtful Governor Adlai Stevenson. I learned about the ’52 and ‘56 campaigns from our weekly issue of LIFE Magazine, the Weekly Reader handed out in school, and television network news in glorious fuzzy black and white on our Dumont console.
We discussed our preferences intently, along with the other relatives around the table, but I knew even then that I had a Democratic soul. My dad Julius was a union machinist and my Grandpa Weiner a union mason. My Grandma Weiner read the Daily Forward, a progressive newspaper published in Yiddish. However, my aunt departed from the party line and developed conservative social views from prosecuting criminal non-support cases. This generated heated discussions that continued well after the table was cleared – especially so with her socialist friends Mac and Alice.
I don’t remember my aunt ever wearing an apron, bringing food to the table, or spending any time at all in the kitchen. Instead, she chain-smoked as debates continued in earnest, flicking ashes into her empty soup bowl until my mother pushed the heavy cut-glass ashtray across the tablecloth, nearly crashing it into Jean’s plate.
In spring 1958, when I was twelve, Aunt Jean took me and my cousin on the train from Newark to Washington, DC. Dressed in brand new pastel-colored coats, we headed to the prestigious Roger Smith Hotel, our exciting first destination. The city was glorious in its abundance of cherry blossoms against bright blue skies.
American history and the great institutions of democracy that I had studied in grade school came alive all around me. In the haunting blue light of the Lincoln Memorial, Jean expressed her deep admiration for the eloquence, character, courage and leadership of President Lincoln. She reached into a deep part of my young self that night.
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Jean, my father’s sister, was born in New York City in 1909 to my immigrant grandparents. Yiddish was the primary language spoken at home. When she was three years old, the family story goes, Jean started public school by tagging along with her older cousins. In class, she acquired fluency in English with no trace of Yiddish accent and was thereby fully assimilated into American life.
She went directly from high school to New Jersey Law School, class of ‘29 but had to wait three years until age twenty-one to sit for the state bar exam. She was the only female to pass the bar in 1933, an event worthy of a headline in the Newark Star Ledger:
Jean married Arthur Lopatin in 1943 and they had one child, Donna. Sadly, he died in 1949, leaving Jean a widow at thirty-nine and their daughter fatherless at age four. She endured the loneliness of a single working mother with no support system, burdened by social disapproval in intolerant times.
She remarried at forty-nine, but as suddenly as the marriage happened, it fell apart. I heard the mysterious word “annulment” and hushed talk in the family of a failed honeymoon involving a “mental breakdown.” My aunt seemed angry that the gentleman’s family “kept secrets” about his “condition.”
In her legal career as Assistant Union County Prosecutor (beginning in 1954), Jean came up against the male-dominated world of law firms, judgeships, political appointments, and nepotism in the “separate but not equal” segregation of professional women in those days. She excelled in researching and drafting appellate briefs. I envision her on the bench as the judge she should have been, brilliantly volleying questions and answers back and forth, keeping the attorneys on subject and demanding precision in their legal arguments.
UNION COUNTY COURTHOUSE, Elizabeth, New Jersey 1940s
Jean served as the family “fixer,” handing legal or any other problems of relatives needing advice or advocacy. She was the bearer of bad news to me that no one else had the heart to convey. In 1978, I took my three-year old son Max on his very first flight to visit my parents in New Jersey. I dressed my little boy in a blue mechanic’s jumpsuit sporting sewn-on gasoline advertising labels for our great adventure with pilots and jet planes.
Aunt Jean greeted me at the gate with words I will not forget, “Your father is riddled with cancer, there’s nothing more they can do.” A red brick wall materialized in front of me and I felt my body slam into it, even as I held tightly onto Max’s hand. When I walked into the house, my mother could see in my eyes that I knew the truth.
Today, I think, how many times was Aunt Jean called upon to take responsibility for handling serious problems for a family member, setting her own needs aside? When she encountered crises in her own life, she took it upon herself to solve them on her own. Later on, being the unmarried daughter, she was deemed the available one to oversee her aging parents. I pay tribute to her unfailing sense of duty and her important role in our family. I wish it had been easier for her…
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My parents were lovingly present in my young life, but there were other, essential parts of myself that lay in wait for a different sort of influence if I were to reach my potential. My aunt introduced me to the passion and power of words and ideas. She taught me that cultural pursuits, conversation, and education are a source of great pleasure. Her fearless sense of individuality resonated with me. She included me early on as an equal in her circle of articulate and accomplished friends, assuming I could handle it – and so I did.
Jean died in 1987 at age seventy-eight. Yet, I see the light within her, to this day. I think I saw light where no one else did, when she was simply being herself, diving into controversial issues, issuing strong opinions, initiating debates and daring all – including young people – to join in. She spoke her mind and didn’t seem to care who agreed or not, whether family, friend, or foe. She was a commanding figure but accessible to me, her niece.
Relaxing over a cup of coffee this morning in the custom of my aunt – but without the cigarette of course – I’m wondering if I’ve “paid it forward” sufficiently by mentoring a young person or serving as a role model, as she did for me.
Two of my secretaries and a client became lawyers with my encouragement. My daughter Julianne is the third generation of women lawyers in the Weiner family, beginning when her Great Aunt Jean passed the bar in 1933. Maybe I can find ways to stretch myself even more to live up to my aunt’s lasting influence and honor her considerable gifts to me.
POSTSCRIPT:
I had one other beloved mentor, my eighth grade English teacher Mrs. Marjorie Walker. Because of her, I sat in library stacks after school searching for Greek plays, British novels, American poetry. I returned to my hometown in Spring 1987 for a high school reunion and tried to locate her, but someone told me she had died. When I read my Aunt Jean’s obituary in the newspaper in December 1987, Mrs. Walker’s obituary was on the same page.
I look forward to your thoughtful, beautifully expressed, and inspiring blogs. Thank you for sharing them!
Hi Carol, you are quite welcome. I am glad the blogs keep us connected. History is everything. In the future I may write about Elaine. I’m wondering where her sons are…..
Truly very interesting and well written. It was fascinating learning about the other side of your family. Definitely not underachievers! You have an amazing legacy on both sides. Thank you for sharing!
Yes, I could write indefinitely about the interesting people of our older generation. We owe everything to them!
Very well written & very interesting. I look forward to reading your blogs.
I just spoke to Sandie. It would be nice to meet you!
A wonderful inspiring blog. Enjoyed reading it very much!
I’m so glad you appreciate my aunt, and what she stands for, through my writing, thank you Kathy.
So wonderful to hear the details of this dynamic woman. I remember her with cigarette in hand discussing no nonsense subjects when I was young. You added a meaningful dimension to my memory of Jean.
I didn’t realize you remembered her. Thank you for your observations. I guess she is unforgettable!
Ah Barrie! What a great tribute to our mutual Aunt Jean and her role for you. Thank you! I’m sure you have passed on the encouragement and inspiration she gave you in manifold ways. By the time I was on the scene at the family dinners, ten years after you, there was little discussion about current events. When the subject wasn’t food, what I recall is Aunt Jean’s wit and biting humor. She had great delivery and was always funny but there was always a knife inside the joke, a knife that was never aimed at me as her kid sister’s little girl. I was very moved to read that Jean shouldered the tough task of telling you the straight truth of your father’s grim prognosis. Jean’s daughter Donna inherited her fortitude in adversity and also Jean’s unwillingness to abide BS and “sugarcoating” truth, and I love these qualities in Donna. As to what you call Jean’s “conservative” leanings but what I would call her racism, I cannot judge her for having this blind spot because I would never have known what it was like to walk a mile in her shoes and struggle to be the family’s first American and fight to get her abilities recognized as a female. I was born into my Americanness, so it was less complicated to reject the racist context that goes with it, particularly during the time the Civil rights movement was taking hold in my 60’s childhood. Jean was very beautiful and she loved us unflinchingly. Thank you again.
Thank you Sherry for adding your view of our Aunt Jean from your ten years younger perspective, as well as your Living in Boston and visiting a few times a year perspective. It all adds up to a rich multi-faceted portrait. As you can see from the other comments, many readers appreciate her too.
My mother would love to read your tribute to her and I can’t help but think she’s reading it right now. As a relative once removed, a niece instead of a daughter, I think it’s easier for you to see the balance in her qualities and nature, and to appreciate the good parts without getting bogged down in the negative side.
My mother was a very brave and strong person, but I remember her saying she didn’t want to be the strong one all the time. Maybe she would have liked to be taken care of instead of always having to take care of others and focus on their needs instead of her own. I’m sorry she didn’t have a happier life, but she made the best of what she had and she loved her career as a lawyer and loved learning as she continued to age. She went on some fun learning trips with your mother to Elder Hostel destinations when they were both widows.
I appreciate your tribute to her and her life. I’m glad you carried on her inspiration to become a lawyer since I didn’t want to do it. I know she admired and appreciated you as well.
Thank you Donna for filling in some spaces that are yours to fill, about your mother. And, I remember she went to Spain with both my parents. They all must have loved it.
I love this memoir of your relationship with your Aunt Jean. She has given you So much of herself out of her love for you. She is truly inspirational. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Diane. And I enjoyed Ray’s poetry slam. Thank you for reading your pieces to help make it a success.
Thank you for your appreciation. I really enjoyed your Thanksgiving poem that you wrote and read at Ray’s poetry slam. See you in class.
Aunts – and uncles – occupy special places in our lives as catalysts, elders, mentors, role models, and sources of inspiration. We are bound to them by blood, but they do not occupy the same places as parents. I, too, had an Aunt Jean who helped to shape me, so your account resonated.
Thank you Josh for your thoughtful perspective. And I’d like to hear more about your Aunt Jean.
A lovely tribute to your Aunt Jean, Barrie. We are carried on the shoulders of the smart, brave women who came before us. I was reminded while reading your essay of a passage in Philip Roth’s book “The Plot Against America” that describes a Jewish family’s trip from Newark NJ to Washington DC. Do check it out if you have the chance. Please keep the stories coming.
Eileen, thank you for your comments and for subscribing to my blog – I am committed to writers supporting writers too! As I’m writing this, I’m on the train to NYC where I often visit my daughter and my little grandson. Maybe we can meet up at an opportune time.
I read your piece about your Mom’s possessions. I related to the circumstances of course, but also because it is the kind of writing I like to do – is creative non-fiction the right term? And I will look up the Roth chapter, I may have an unread copy on my shelf.
Writing is huge in my life right now. I’m glad we can connect in this way. Warm regards, Barrie
Barrie,
What a well-written commentary on your Aunt Jean! I am so glad that she was able to find a career that allowed her to grow intellectually. It is easy to see why she was a mentor for you! Imagine what she would have thought about the leader of our country today! This story reminds me of my Aunt Lena who though never married, was able to succeed in life. She attended Smith College, traveled to Europe and Israel, served in the Navy and became a social worker. She may have been too strong to make a man of that generation feel comfortable in a relationship. But she was kind to all her nieces and nephews! Thanks, Barrie!
Janice, thank you for the interesting account of your Aunt Lena’s life. These women deserve to be honored.
Oh, Barrie, thank you. I have always appreciated the strong, smart, accomplished women in our family. As your mother was, Jean was always just sweet to me when I was a younger-than-you child. We never had deep discussions even when I was an adult either. I think we just enjoyed a simple aunt-nephew happy relationship. I sure do learn a lot from all of you, and your posts are a real blessing — and a path to know you better. Love, Cousin Bob
Thank you Bob. I have always appreciated your deep connection to music. I have finally discovered my own form of creativity, after years of legal writing.
Barrie, you are eloquent and insightful. Your blog is moving and inspiring.