Once again, I find myself breaking a newly formed promise. My most recent blog post departed from my adorable cats to address the horrible condition of mass killings in our nation. I promised to get back on board with that which gives joy and pleasure. But I was recently informed that an old friend had just passed away and my thoughts are filled with her.
I first met Jody after the Kabbalah center I attended on a regular basis closed. I didn’t know Jody at that point. She chose to attend Shabbat service in New York City. I had attended services at the center in Ardmore. After the Ardmore center closed, Jody allowed our group to use her home for monthly Kabbalah meetings.
Her home was as Jody warm and filled with cats and dogs. At the meetings, Jody served coffee, cakes, and wide smiles to the twenty plus individuals crammed into her living room. For all the accolades that fell before Jody, the one that fit her best came from one that had no speaking voice.
I remember one particular meeting. It was on a pleasant springtime Sunday afternoon. Jody left her home’s back door open so the cats could wander in and out from the house to a fenced yard.
I was standing in the dining room when my attention was drawn to a squirrel, which wandered in from the yard. He hoped onto the dining room table and took a nut from a bowl. He then calmly exited to the yard. I was amazed. This little creature was completely at peace and able to transcend the din from people, dogs, and cats to retrieve a nut. I asked Jody about it. Her reply was totally nonchalant, typically Jody. “Oh, he does that all the time. I leave the back door open for him.”
I didn’t bother pointing out to her how untypical this was or how wonderfully untypical my new found friend was. The little squirrel instinctively knew that Jody was one to be trusted. Jody was a caring, loving, nurturing person.
Now she is gone and as I think of her, lyrics from one of my favorite songs by Don McClean fill my mind.
“This world was not meant for anyone as beautiful as you.”