Last week, after a day of teaching classes in New York City, my daughter Julie, attended a small reception held in honor of the Whiting Award recipients of last year from Baruch College. The Whiting Award is a teaching award given to two professors in which they are given a six month paid leave of absence to work on their personal projects.
In attendance at this reception were the President of the College, the Dean of the College, the Provost of the College, and the President of the Whiting Foundation, among others. The two recipients of the award from last year were Julie and a male professor, whom I don’t know. They were asked to speak at the reception and explain to those attending how they made use of their award time.
In Julie’s case, she had been writing her second book and made great use of the time to further work on it every day with the goal of completing it. She gave the audience all the background on the book, editing updates and answered any questions that they had. She felt it was a wonderful opportunity to explain just where everything stood regarding her book. The people from the Whiting Foundation seemed very pleased with how Julie used her award time. Julie’s book, 'The Madame Curie Complex', will be out around this time next year.
When Julie called to tell me about this reception and how well everything went, she also asked if she could read me the rough draft of the introduction to her book. It’s not unusual that she asked to do this. She’s read parts of her book to me before to see what I think. She did this with her first book too. Of course, I’m always eager to hear every word.
However…I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to hear. From the moment she spoke the first sentence, I did nothing but cry. She took me completely by surprise....because she dedicated this book to her father. Her dad. He was her inspiration to write this book…..from a very long time ago.
This was no ‘mushy’ dedication. Julie doesn’t do ‘mush.’ And especially not here. This was beautiful. Perfect. Just right. Joel would have loved this. He would have cried his eyes out. HE WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS BOOK. Maybe that’s why I was crying like a complete baby. I was crying for him.
Out of all of my kids, I think Julie felt tested by Joel the most. I think she felt she had to prove herself to him all the time. He was one of those 'tester' dads...always keeping his kids on their toes. Throwing quizzes at them all the time, asking questions, debating with them. He was a tough cookie at times, but he loved his kids. I’ve never been sure if Julie really knew just how very proud of her he was…he didn’t always voice it. But let there be no doubt; that man was incredibly proud of that child…..as he was of ALL of his kids. He said a lot more to me than he said to them. That’s where he and I were different. I think I over-compensated for him all the time. That’s not hard when you’re a mushy marshmallow of a person like me.
So I found myself trying to keep my composure while Julie was reading the rest of this wonderful introduction to me. It was great...and touching in a way that Joel would have so appreciated and admired. And it wasn’t all about Joel by any means. It was laced with a lot of things about Julie, about her book, about the women in her book and their stories, expectations, etc. It really was so beautifully written. It wasn’t lost on my emotional meltdown whatsoever. I absorbed every bit of it. She didn’t even read the whole thing to me, but I asked that she e-mail it to me. I wanted to read it again…maybe sans tears….maybe.
I can relate it back to six years ago when Julie wrote her first book, “Women & the Historical Enterprise in America…Gender, Race, and the Politics of Memory, 1880-1945.” I took a trip out to Boston, where she was living at the time. She just had my first grandchild, Bella. A new baby, a new book…and Boston in July. How perfect is that?
Upon arrival the first thing she put in my arms was sweet baby Bella. I could barely stand it. Tears filled my eyes. She was so perfect and precious. Then she gave me a copy of her book…dedicated to me. Who knew? She never tells anyone anything. I don't think I did anything but cry that first day.
In honesty, if it’s possible, dedicating this new book to her father trumps mine. And if tears were a way of communicating with someone from above, my husband heard every word right along with me.