"A Lady Physician of Medicine"

Brooklyn, New York, 1952. I described earlier—here and here—how some doubted Mom's medical training. Mom hired a lawyer to expedite receipt of her medical-school paperwork. Here's the transcript the university supplied when Mom applied for an Illinois license.

"Nachthexen"

During World War II, the Germans called the Soviet Union's female fighter pilots "night witches:"

They often operated in stealth mode, idling their engines as they neared their targets and then gliding their way to their bomb release points. As a result, their planes made little more than soft "whooshing" noises as they flew by.

Those noises reminded the Germans, apparently, of the sound of a witch's broomstick. So the Nazis began calling the female fighter pilots Nachthexen: "night witches." They were loathed. And they were feared. Any German pilot who downed a "witch" was automatically awarded an Iron Cross.

Be true to your school?

My alma mater, Trinity High School, is the subject of a short article.

I have few opinions about single-gender education, but I make two observations: (1) In the 1960s and 1970s, the boys who attended our "brother school," Fenwick High School, were much better prepared for university work than we were. Although we had solid training in the humanties, the Fenwick boys were better educated in the hard sciences (example: Mr. Irene); and (2) after four years at a single-gender institution, I found it rough to adapt to a co-ed setting. During my first year at university, I slowly adjusted to men in the classroom. During my second year, our small dormitory went coed.

The Knitting Circle

I often refer to my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, as "Alpha Baba." Tatjana was a strong, aristocratic presence in the household. Her daughter-in-law, my Mom, may have been the breadwinner and certainly was the disciplinarian, but Tatjana "wore the pants."

Tatjana lived with my Parents from the time they emigrated to the United States until she died in 1974. Tatjana was the force that ran the household. Eastern European cultures tend to be matriarchal, and Russian families are run by supremely dominant matriarchs.

There was only one area in which Tatjana sometimes "alphaed" my Mom, and that was over the question of parties. Tatjana loved to entertain. Mom was too overworked to enjoy entertaining.

My Mom preferred to have quiet times with her friends. Ladies would come over to our house, and they would sit and knit with Mom. The "stitch and bitch" sessions usually took place on Thursdays, because that was the day my Mom did not go to the office. (Most doctors took Wednesdays off back then. Mom's partner—the senior physician in their practice—did not work on Wednesday, so Mom was off on Thursdays). The ladies sat in the corner of the living room, chatted, and knitted elegant 1960s-style suits and dresses.

A source of humor at our home was Tatjana's determination to participate in the knitting circle with the younger generation—even though Tatjana didn't knit. I have no recollection of these interludes, but my Mom remembers them vividly.

Suburban Chicago, February 1965. Tatjana sits off to the side, on the piano bench, but she's right in the middle of things. My Mom has her back to Tatjana. Mom's best friend, Donna, sits on the far right. Tatjana is sewing the apron of my first Lithuanian folkdress.

Dora Gets Her Wish

My Mother's maternal Aunt, Teodora ("Dora"), liked it when people paid attention to her. An auburn filly with green eyes and a porcelain complexion, Dora was a rare beauty in the mousy Baltic States. Her fashion sense was keen, and photos show her transforming from Gibson Girl to Flapper to Glamorous Vixen. Even in the steely, Soviet 1950s, Dora looked like an unpracticed double for Joan Crawford.

Dora also was, as relatives whispered delicately, "ahead of her time." In the 1920s and 1930s, she worked full time as a paralegal in a large notarial office whose most important clients were British. At night, Dora played the background keyboards in cinema houses for silent movies. In dour Lithuania, she wore sleeveless dresses sewn in bright colors. She waited until her thirties to marry. When she did wed, she married a twice-divorced man, and she chose not to have children.

Mariampolis, Lithuania, 1920. This is my Mother's maternal Grandmother, Zigmunta, and my Mother's maternal Aunt, Dora.