I was introduced to Myrna’s family last May when I photographed her grandson’s wedding at the Minnesota Apple Harvest Orchard in Jordan, MN . One of my all-time favorite images was captured at their reception. It’s of Josh and his wife Susan being hoisted up on chairs, surrounded by their friends and family, for the traditional Jewish dance called the “hora.”
Since my North Dakota Catholic farm-girl upbringing didn’t exactly provide a plethora of multi-cultural opportunities, this was the first time I had ever seen an hora danced in person. It was amazing! I was on the verge of tears as I watched it (remember, I’m a mush bucket). It was a complete rush of energy and emotion, pure joy in motion. Every time I see that image, I’m taken right back to the moment, and I’m swept up in the tide of community, family, faith and celebration.
About nine months after I photographed Josh and Susan’s wedding, I received a call from Grandma Feldman, wondering if I would be available to photograph her 80th birthday party. Myrna and I chatted several times on the phone discussing the event, but as we chatted we were easily sidetracked into discussing our families, our childhoods, and our communities.
When Myrna arrived at the Copenhagen room in Plymouth’s Radisson Hotel and Conference Center she greeted me like a friend, taking my hand in both her hands and telling me how beautiful I looked. Believe me, I’ll take a compliment wherever I can get it, but more than the generous compliment, I appreciated the warmth and sincerity of her welcome. And as the guests started to arrive, it became apparent that everyone there appreciated her warmth and sincerity.
Myrna greeted each guest with open affection. She’d hold each face in her hands and plant a smooch on every cheek. As she talked with guests, she’d hold their hand or put a hand on their arm. And again, I was amazed. Stoic Czechoslovakian farm families don’t kiss cheeks, and they only hug when forced to do so through social pressure.
After guests had a chance to eat, Myrna’s son, daughter, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and several friends all stood up to share stories about Myrna. Some of those that spoke did so through tears, and every story had a similar theme – Myrna’s seemingly endless capacity to love.
I watched Myrna while her friends and family spoke of her. She was standing behind her grandson, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, with her chin resting on his head. It was such a beautiful gesture, telling the entire history of their relationship in a single moment.
As I watched this moment and listed to stories of Myrna’s love and devotion, I was stuck with the realization that Myrna has the answer. This 80-year-old grandmother and pre-school teacher is a living testament to the meaning of life – to love and be loved in return. It couldn’t be more simple and yet to see it done so well and so completely was simply amazing.
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