Friday, December 04, 2020

Granny Rose

I’ve learned recently that end of life care includes the phrase “no heroic measures.” And I understand what the term means, but to me, it seems all wrong. After all, Rose’s final days, as with so many of her other days, were filled with heroism. She faced this last test with the grace, good humour, and quiet strength familiar to all who knew her. 


Throughout her long life, Rose suffered unimaginable hardship and tragedy. Yet, she did not grow embittered or hard, as so many others would have. Instead, she embraced the world with love and laughter – as if her heart had expanded to fill in and heal the places where it had been broken.

I feel so lucky to have witnessed Rose’s spirit and zest for life on those happy occasions when we would visit her, or she us. In those moments, our family felt complete. She brought us so much joy with her energy and eagerness to join every conversation, event, game, and outing. And over the last few years, she amazed us by laughing at every joke, despite being hard of hearing and dancing at every simcha, despite being barely able to walk. Rose performed miracles through her sheer determination to maximize every moment of delight that she could find.

Perhaps the highlight of our time together was getting to observe the absolutely overflowing love she had for my Dad – it seemed to radiate out of every inch of her. And in her presence, it felt as though the depths of my Dad’s being were revealed. There is so much of Rose in his gentle manner, kind soul, and sense of humour that is somehow both ever-present, yet also surprising. 

Indeed, Rose always made me laugh when I least expected it. Once, after watching my Dad kill a fly with a rolled-up newspaper, Rose grabbed my arm in mock horror and wailed, “My son’s a MURDERER!” And just a few weeks ago, she told me that she liked when Glenda, her carer, took her outside for fresh air because otherwise she would get “too stale.”  


The courage to love deeply through despair, to dance through pain, to laugh often and much, and to suffer with grace – heroic measures, every one. 

Rose was a wonder of a person and though we will miss her dearly, we are blessed with her example that the truest way to honour the dark times is by rejoicing in the light. 

And as we mourn the loss of her, there is comfort in knowing that she is now reunited with the many departed loved ones who have been waiting patiently for her on the other side.  


Friday, September 25, 2020

Granny Pat

I’ve always had trouble describing Pat to other people. I think it’s because I’ve never met anyone else quite like her. I’ve never met anyone else so absolutely stubborn, but always in the service of others. If there was something Pat could do for you, she would do it no matter what. She would spend hours on a three course meal for Friday night. She would fly across the continent for a family wedding. She would devote months to perfecting a painting for her great-granddaughters. I don’t think a selfish thought ever crossed her mind. I don’t think she actually knew how to have a selfish thought. 

But what she did know, of course, was how to make people feel loved. Because to Pat, love was in the little things. There was no gesture or moment ever too small for her to let go by. Whether it was a second helping before you asked, a phone call on a special day, or a saved crossword puzzle - she never overlooked any opportunity to demonstrate that you were on her mind and in her heart. She made you feel like the centre of her universe. 

To Pat, family was everything and she was so deeply a part of us it’s hard to imagine life without her. But she has left a lasting imprint in so many ways. I see her in the kindness of my mother. I see her in the resilience of my siblings. I see her in the strength of my uncles and the bonds of my cousins. I see her in the spirit of my nieces.  

Over the last few years, Pat told me many times that she thought the world was broken and she hoped to live long enough to see it fixed. We know that she didn’t. But perhaps we could come a little closer to healing it if we all were stubborn in the service of others. If we all remembered that love is in the little things. If we didn’t miss any opportunity to make someone else feel like the centre of our universe.


Please consider donating to the Rally 2020 for North York General Hospital 

 


Wednesday, April 08, 2020

The Pandemic Haggadah

1. Cleaning the House of Chametz
We’ve all been cleaning anyway. This should be easy.

2. First Cup of Wine
Congrats to those who still have wine in their homes.

3. Wash Your Hands
This is what we’ve been training for! 

4. Karpas
Dip your vegetables in saltwater to disinfect.

5. The Four Questions
How is this night different from all the other nights? IS THAT A JOKE?!

6. The Four Sons
If these children have two parents present, they are illegally gathering in a group of six.

7. The 10 Plagues
The 2020 Bingo list.

8. Dayenu
God, it’s enough already! 

9. Pesach
Smear Purell on the doorway.

10. Matzah
Crackers are a great apocalypse snack option.

11. Marror
A preview of when all that’s left in the pantry is herbs.

12. Second Cup of Wine
Lean to the left, toward a robust social safety net. 

13. Wash Your Hands
Once is not enough!

14. Charoses
Throw everything left in your kitchen in a bowl and add cinnamon.

15. Korech
Throw everything left in your kitchen in a bowl and add cinnamon and make a sandwich.

16. Dinner!
Who among us still has eggs?!?

17. Afikoman
Only hide it in/on previously sterilized surfaces.

18. Third Cup of Wine
Time to start fermenting grape juice in the bathtub.

19. Elijah
Check his temperature at the door. 

20. Fourth Cup of Wine
Only two less than the daily average.

21. Next Year in Jerusalem!
Or literally anywhere outside of our homes.

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Dissertation Acknowledgments

This journey began at the University of Western Ontario where Nancy Rhoden agreed to supervise the research of an overeager undergraduate student who spoke too quickly and too much. I worked with Nancy for the next three years as she patiently taught me the foundations of historical research and writing. But of all her lessons, I am most grateful for her example that scholarly rigor is not diluted, but rather strengthened, when it is coupled with kindness. While at Western, I also benefited from Rob MacDougall's mentorship. He encouraged me to think deeply about what it means to be a historian and never tired of helping me wrestle with the tough questions of work and life. 

I first met Alan Taylor at the University of Windsor where I attended his talk in the fall of 2012. On my drive back to London, I got my first speeding ticket. While Alan should unquestionably reimburse me the $52 fine, my debt to him can never be fully repaid. He introduced me to liberty poles, taught me to sharpen my writing by saying more with less, and encouraged patience when fielding during Townball. His belief in me never (outwardly) wavered and I carried his confidence as a talisman during many nerve-wracking presentations and interviews. I am also immeasurably grateful to Elizabeth Varon whose unflagging support, perceptive suggestions, and good humor have greatly improved this project and my graduate school experience. Her blend of professionalism and compassion will provide the model of mentorship for the rest of my career. Gary Gallagher's wit, kindness, and enthusiasm have also enhanced my time at UVA. I am especially grateful that he has let me sully his pool table with my ineptitude. I also thank Brian Balogh, Joanne Freeman, and Sidney Milkis for the time, expertise, and encouragement they provided as members of my dissertation committee. I am honored by their involvement in this project. 

In UVA's History graduate program, I found some of the smartest, kindest, and funniest people I have ever known. Their friendships have enriched this project and broadened my thinking in immeasurable ways. My small victories were sweetened and my many setbacks softened because of the people with whom I could share them. Many thanks to Kathleen Berggren, Clayton "Old Fuss" Butler, Benji Cohen, Jon Cohen, Mary Draper, Erik Erlandson, Jack Furniss, Alexi Garrett, Jesse George-Nichol, Melissa Gismondi, Connor Kenaston, Alice King, Cecilia Márquez, Brian Neumann, and Chris Whitehead. In our writing group, Jack and Melissa provided generous and thoughtful readings of my work, which challenged my thinking in all of the right ways. Our weekly meetings were among the highlights of my time as ABD and the perfect model of what a scholarly community should be.

I am very grateful to Kathleen Miller for her unfailing patience, kindness, and assistance. She always had what I needed, be it information, encouragement, or commiseration. I cannot count all of the ways Kathleen eased my path to the PhD. 

Beyond UVA's History Department, a whole host of people have welcomed me into the academic community and cheered on my work and career. I hope to honor their generosity by paying it forward as best I can. Thank you to Miranda Beltzer, Charlene Boyer Lewis, Lindsay Chervinsky, Seth Cotlar, Liz Covart, James Lewis, Michael McDonnell, Paul Douglas Newman, Jason Opal, Andrew W. Robertson, Andrew M. Schocket, and Joe Stoltz. In the final year of my PhD, I formed a long-distance writing group with Kristen Beales, Jackie Beatty, and Lauren Duval. Their encouragement and ideas got me through the final stretch and it was a privilege to read their wonderful work. 

Thanks also to Rachael Bell for her longstanding friendship and support (including a trip to the Dedham Historical Society!). Rachael's unyielding commitment to live and teach for a better world inspires me every day. And to Cecily Zander whose generosity, intelligence, wit, and blazers were an essential part of my final year at UVA. I also wish to thank the ladies of the Charlottesville Women's Soccer League for welcoming me with open arms and teaching me that camaraderie and competition are two sides of the same coin. 

I am grateful for financial support from the following institutions: the American Philosophical Society, the Bankard Fund for Political Economy, the David Library of the American Revolution, the Dilworth Fund at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, the Jack Miller Center, the New England Regional Fellowship Consortium, the Omohundro Institute of Early American History and Culture, the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and UVA's Corcoran Department of History, Office of the Vice President for Research, the Power, Violence, and Inequality Collective, and the Society of Fellows. Thanks also to the staff at the American Philosophical Society, the Connecticut Historical Society, the David Library of the American Revolution, the Dedham Historical Society, the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, the Library Company of Philadelphia, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the National Archives, the New England Genealogical Society, the New York Historical Society, and the Small Special Collections Library at the University of Virginia. Their warmth and expertise made my time in the archives both enjoyable and fruitful.

I am also very thankful for the excellent feedback I received at several conferences and workshops over the last few years. Thanks especially to the American Political Thought Seminar at the Newberry Library, the Early America Seminar at the International Center for Jefferson Studies, the Omohundro Institute of Early American History and Culture, the Rothermere American Institute at the University of Oxford, and the Society for Historians of the Early American Republic. Thanks also to the Nau Center for Civil War History for accepting an early republic interloper so graciously.

The biggest thanks, as ever, goes to my wonderful family. I am proud to be now called a Doctor, but proudest always to be their aunt, sister, daughter, and granddaughter. I am beyond fortunate to count my siblings, Dani, Lisa, and Asher, and my siblings-in-law, Shael and Jen, as my best friends. We express our love through laughter and their senses of humor are my panacea for all of life's bumps and bruises. I am privileged to have a pair of incredible women anchoring my family at each end. The strength of my grandmothers, Pat and Rose, and the wonder of my nieces, Hallie and Avery, keeps everything in perspective.

This is a story of ordinary people who did their best in uncertain times. I tell it in the memory of my departed relatives who did the same.

This work is dedicated with immense love and gratitude to Lynne Lurie, who is a lifelong student, and David Lurie, who devotes himself fully to all he does. They have given me everything I cherish most: a close-knit family, a happy childhood, and a love of stories. Mom and Dad, your combinations of hard work with humor and curiosity with compassion are forever my inspiration. 



Monday, December 31, 2018

The Best Tweets of 2018

Sorry for the clip show.

























Tuesday, January 09, 2018

The Best Tweets of 2017


Blogger didn't save half of this post, so you only get until June. The hits of 2017 just keep on coming.

Anyway, shine on, you crazy diamonds.

























Wednesday, May 10, 2017

A Political Passover

Special thanks to Rachael and Melissa for their stats and encouragement.

This year, I wanted to make Passover political.

This was the opening statement read at the start of the seder:

On Passover, we ask why this night is different from other nights. But in the current climate, it seems a more pressing question to ask is how is this year different from other years. One need not be the wise son to count the ways. So tonight, as we gather together to remember that the Jewish people were once slaves in Egypt, we thought it would be appropriate to recognize the current struggles for freedom happening in North America and around the world. We will dedicate each of the four cups of wine to a different group of people whose liberty is still limited in some way. After the blessing, one person will read a short statement before we drink that concludes with a toast for a brighter future next Passover.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

This is 30

Almost Thirty
They said it was impossible. They said it defied all reason. They said only a fool would believe it could happen. But it has. Asher Lurie has turned thirty years old.

Some fans may remember Ashie as the guy who won the greatest rock-paper-scissors game of all time, only to immediately destroy his prize. Others may know him from this viral video. And a handful of you are thinking of the wrong Asher. But all can agree that Asher turning thirty is about as unlikely an event as anything that has happened in 2017 (too soon?).

So in honour of this auspicious occasion, I begged Ashie to let me roast him in front of the family after his birthday dinner. I'm not saying I killed it, but even Granny Pat laughed. Here it is:


Sunday, January 01, 2017

The Best Tweets of 2016

Not every year is good. But there's something good in every year. Here are the best tweets of 2016.


Monday, August 15, 2016

I went to Hamilton and all you got was this lousy blog post




Ay Mama, what do you do when your dreams come true?” Write a (short) blog post, of course!

  • I was too nervous to read my program. 
  • When the house lights dimmed, the whole audience gasped as one. 
  • Chris Jackson’s voice somehow sounds even better in person.
  • People are constantly writing with quills, but they never have ink. 
  • If Satisfied was its own show, it would win the Tony for Best Musical. 
  • Cabinet Battle #1 is so much fun live. 
  • The part of Aaron Burr is so well written, I root for him. Off that immigrant, Burr! 
  • You can just see the tops of Alex Lacamoire’s curls bouncing in the orchestra pit. 
  • The Les Mis turntable should take notes from the Hamilton turntable. 
  • If you can see through your tears at the line “they row him back across the Hudson,” you’ll be rewarded. 
  • They change coats in this show as often as they change shoes in Billy Elliot. 
  • The curtain call is infuriatingly short. 
  • I bought a magnet just to be sure it wasn’t all a dream. 


"How lucky we are to be alive right now."  

Friday, January 08, 2016

The Best Tweets of 2015

Better luck next year, Ashie.






























Monday, September 28, 2015

Movin' On Up (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Condo)



Free BBQ! (Photo Cred: Cousin Carrie)


Before I left for Virginia, I told Asher that he couldn't move out. The parents had already talked about selling the house and moving into a condo downtown. Ash was the last bastion of defense. As long as he lived at home, my Mother would never downsize and leave her son on the streets (the Dad was neutral on the issue). But it only took a few months before a slippery Argentinian named Dan persuaded Asher to move in with him (it's actually very easy to get Asher to agree to something - as long as the conversation is long enough, he'll stop paying attention and start nodding his head). But the nod turned out to be legally binding, and before you knew it, my childhood home was on the market.

I didn't panic yet. I still had two sisters in the game who could exert some influence. Surely Dani and Lisa could talk the parents out of exchanging our memories for lake views and subway accessibility. But the hardcore fans of this blog will remember that Dani is a wildcard who answers to no one. And even though there was no ice storm to assist her treachery this time, she still decided to go ahead and be a great real estate agent and garner multiple offers on the house for the parents. I don't know where Lisa was in all of this. Probably sleeping. 

So the house was sold and it fell to Hallie to convince the buyers to withdraw their offer before the grace period ended. Sadly, her negotiation skills were just not up to snuff. Either that, or the buyers had played "Where Has Elmo Gone?" before and weren't falling for her tricks. Avery wasn't born yet, so we didn't have the good cop/bad cop option that I am certain would have cracked these people. 

My contingency plans exhausted, I had nothing left to do but mourn my loss. I thought about all the simple pleasures this house had given me. I loved the way my Dad fussed around at his "snack station" and the way my Mom announced that she was home with such relief every time she came inside. I loved the way Dani sat on the stairs to greet anyone who arrived home late at night, the way Lisa danced in the kitchen, and the way Asher always said "come in" when I knocked on his door, even when he was asleep. I loved the way we all left notes for each other on the message board and how we never figured out the optimal way to load the dishwasher. 

And then I realized that Avery had been right this whole time! Those memories weren't about the house, they were about the people inside of it. True, it was our family home, but the family would still be together in the new place. And who knows what other little things I'd come to treasure about the way we inhabit the condo. That's one smart baby. 

"When I think of home I think of a place where there's love overflowing." - The Wiz



Sunday, May 10, 2015

Gobsmacked

In honour of Mother's Day, I wish to present you with one of my favourite stories of Lynne Lurie (aka the Mom aka Lynnesky aka Mommmmmm-Asher's-bugging-me!!!). Anyone who has met this fine lady knows the following three things: a) she has a classy accent b) she makes an unreal zucchini soup c) she is unfailingly kind. Growing up, I knew that I could come to my Mom with any problem and she would soothe my worries with her dulcet Zimbabwean tones and a dose of soup and I would soon be right as rain. Well, dear readers, my faith in my Mother's supply of unending comfort was tested one fateful day at age fifteen. Of course, the event took place in the one area of the planet sure to shatter any childhood illusions...

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Advice to My Unborn Niece II

1. Jump in puddles.
2. Never skip breakfast.
3. Sometimes older kids think it's "uncool" to play with younger ones. Don't worry, they grow out of it. 
4. Ask questions.
5. Tell the truth.
6. Only the dumbest people don't wear seatbelts.
7. Grandpa David is going to pinch your cheeks, but he'll stop if you ask him enough times. 
8. Play pretend.
9. Don't worry about anything too much.
10. Don't let anyone trick you into thinking money is important. 
11. Daydream.
12. Be a humble winner and a gracious loser.
13. Never forget how lucky you are to have Hallie as your big sister.
14. Always double check your work. 
15. Try your hardest.
16. Rock-Paper-Scissors can resolve almost any disagreement.
17. If you're scared, ask to hold someone's hand.
18. Forgive easily.
19. Keep your promises.
20. Tell your Mom you're old enough to go to the theatre. 
21. Stop and smell the roses. This can be taken literally or figuratively. 
22. Don't play with doors. 
23. Hoarding Halloween candy never pays off. Just trust me on this.
24. You are stronger and smarter than you can possibly imagine.
25. Lead by example.
26. Popcorn and smarties. You're welcome.
27. Laugh until you cry.
28. If you want to know what bravery looks like, you can see it every time your Mom gets on an airplane.
29. Follow your hopes, not your fears.
30. There are few problems that reading a good book in a warm bath can't solve.
31. Give people the benefit of the doubt.
32. Think things through. 
33. Find that balance between washing your hands enough, but not too much.
34. Uncle Asher loves it when people tickle his feet.
35. Cake is meant to be eaten two slices at a time. 
36. Listen.
37. It doesn't matter what other people think of you.
38. Have secret handshakes with your friends. 
39. Walk outside barefoot. 
40. You and Hallie are on the same team.
41. Don't be afraid to make a mistake. 
42. Share. 
43. Your Dad will do anything for you. Use that power responsibly. 
44. Don't cheat. (I know you wouldn't anyway, I just have to say it). 
45. Remember people's names. 
46. Be silly.
47. Let Granny Lynne take photos of you. It means a lot to her. 
48. Dance in the rain. 
49. Learn how to play an instrument.
50. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you can't be exactly who you are. 

PS. I'm very excited to meet you. 

Monday, December 29, 2014

The Best Tweets of 2014

I think this list is even better than last year's. Keep up the good work, twitter! And congratulations to all those who made the cut - the internet is a better place because of you.

Bonus fun fact: for the second year in a row, one of my favourites is a tweet about "Ice, Ice, Baby"

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

How I Became a Feminist (and You Can Too!)

"We can never go back to before." - Ragtime

I used to think I wasn't a feminist. I was for equal rights, I confidently told myself, not favouring women over men. I wasn't interested in getting into heated arguments about the glass ceiling or birth control. And I had never once burned my bra.

Part of this disavowal came from my annoyance with the possessive apostrophe in "women's history." Just because I was female didn't mean this was more my history than the male sitting next to me. I felt that with that apostrophe came the presumption that because I was a woman I should be interested in women's history. And I don't take kindly to presumptions. I was grateful for the civil rights this history had given me, but I was equally thankful for other gifts from my predecessors, like germ theory and the Emancipation Proclamation. I was a human. My history was the history of humanity - of women and men, West and East, Emperor and colonist, Native and settler. It was all my inheritance, and everyone else's too.

Monday, July 07, 2014

Another High School Caper

High School Shira was exactly as cool as she thought she was

By popular demand, Shirby's Dream World is proud to present another high school caper. This one is not as comedically tragic as the code red story, but it is equally shocking in its unpredictability. This is a story about a sentence that has haunted me with its thrilling complexity since the age of seventeen. A turn of phrase so mysterious that it transformed an otherwise normal school outing into a life-altering misadventure.

Every May, around forty students and four teachers spent a weekend up north at an entirely student-run leadership retreat. In 2007, I was one of those students. (I also went in 2008, but nothing nearly as remarkable happened that year). We played sports, did trust exercises, talked about school issues, and met people from different social groups. This was just before Guitar Hero invaded our lives, and so I view it fondly as one of my childhood's last weekends of innocent, wholesome fun. 
So effing cool

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

The Big Race

The Taste of Success (Spoiler Alert)



THE HISTORY

After a youth spent participating in competitive sports, my active lifestyle ground to a halt when I started University. My once admirable level of physical activity now maxed out in the walk to and from class. And given that I lived on campus, this would only be an acceptable amount of exertion if I was walking on my hands. And I was not. My diet, never much to brag about, consisted of whatever I didn't have to cook. The cafeteria was a daily indulgence, the snack bar a nightly friend, and Pizza-Pizza a biweekly comfort. At my peak, I would literally take a large bowl intended for the SALAD BAR and fill it with Lucky Charms. Oh, the innocence of youth! 

Unsurprisingly, under this regimen I soon ballooned to mega-Shira proportions. Then I got a phone call informing me that I had made the Canadian Women's Soccer Team slated to compete at the Maccabiah Games. What are the Maccabiah Games, you ask? Thank you for asking. I'll tell you: The Maccabiah Games are basically the Jewish Olympics. Every four years, Jewish athletes from all over the world come to Israel to compete in their chosen sport. If you are now envisioning a bunch of Rabbis doing the 100m dash, you are not that far off.
The Canadian delegation schleps into the Opening Ceremonies

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

How I Won My Seder and You Can Too!


This post is dedicated to Rachael's night shift and Stein's bookmarks' bar. 

 
That's right, I sit at the head of the table and drink from a fishie cup

Seders are supposed to be a celebration of our freedom. We used to be slaves in Egypt, but God made the Egyptians drink blood and then killed their children, so now we're free! Seders are also meant to maximize the enjoyment of the kids - to keep them interested and excited as their four questions are answered. BUT, this is a tall order because seders are also long, heavily ritualized, and mostly conducted in a different language. Three things children (and their handlers) tend not to love. But fear not, dear readers, your Shirby has the answer:

Seder Bingo. 

Intrigued? I bet you are. Here's how it works...


Thursday, March 06, 2014

Hilarious History Vol. 1 - The Tennis Court Oath


The year is 1789. For context's sake, it is a few years before the French people will start singing about whether other people hear them singing and a little bit after those across the pond demonstrated their dislike of tea by throwing it into said pond. So, as you can tell, it was a time of great revolutionary fervour. 

The place is France. No need for context here, I assume you know where France is.