"Aunt Elizabeth" Krukowski

Of blessed memory

Aunt Elizabeth (Krukowski) was not an aunt at all, but rather our step- grandmother. I don't know why we all called her Aunt Elizabeth, but the name stuck. Aunt Elizabeth was a retired literature professor, from Miami University, and I was a child who loved to read. We mostly talked about the many classics she kept in their Upper East Side apartment, which she allowed me to read freely.

Aunt Elizabeth was not religious, but she was proudly Jewish. Her warm heart and sincerity always made me feel comfortable around her, and she never seemed impatient with me or my siblings. When she died of cancer, I was in the 8th grade.

I had put her on the prayer list at school for 2 years, and I still remember her prayer name: Elisheva Yochana (Johanna/Joanne), daughter of Aliza. The principal summoned me to her office the first time I put Aunt Elizabeth on the prayer list. She objected that Johanna is not a Jewish name, so it could not possibly be my grandmother's real name. I don't recall how this was resolved, but they allowed me to continue putting the name on the prayer list.

I often think of Aunt Elizabeth, who had a surprisingly strong impact on the course of my life. Children are simple. At the time, there were not many people who took me seriously and were willing to engage me in conversation. Emotionally, she seemed to care about our relationship and to value spending time with me.

She always wore purple, her favorite color, and her apartment was nearly completely purple. I suppose my grandfather, who was blind at the time, did not even notice. She liked to talk about human rights, equality, and peace in the world. This is fitting, because purple symbolizes the human ability to choose to live morally. (See footnote)

Aunt Elizabeth loved to take us to museums. I never was terribly fond of museums, but I definitely appreciated the gifts at museum gift shops. One time, she purchased an ant farm that I requested. My parents were not enthusiastic about this, and they refused to buy me the ants to populate it.

Oddly, Aunt Elizabeth, a celebrated professor, was primarily responsible for my avoidance of academia in adulthood. I remember the exchange vividly. As usual, we were talking about whatever I was reading, at the time the works of Jonathan Swift, who is still my favorite English language author.

Aunt Elizabeth had a complete Jonathan Swift compilation, which I have not been able to find online. I did not understand value when she died, so I did not take the book from her bookcases when we were told to take any books we wanted. I thought that such a wonderful book must be very expensive, and someone else would want it. I wish I had taken it. But perhaps it is warmer in my memory, for having remained intangible.

During our conversation, Aunt Elizabeth, always a very emotional person, began to cry. She pleaded with me, "Please remember me, please don't forget about me, promise to remember me!" I was shocked at the intensity of her feelings. As an elementary school student, why would someone like Aunt Elizabeth turn to me for anything?

I felt deeply for her pain. Aunt Elizabeth had never had her own children, and while she was a successful academic, she seemed a tragic figure. Of course, I immediately reassured her that I would remember her. And I have.

That incident had a huge impact on me, because being a successful academic was somehow assumed to be the ideal. I looked at Aunt Elizabeth, who was successful, right? She was well liked, published, tenured, everything an academic could possibly want to be.

Here she was, dying from cancer, and where were her students and colleagues? She was pleading with me, her step granddaughter, to remember her. Though I cared for Aunt Elizabeth, I had never considered our relationship particularly close. It was mostly limited to museum gift shops and talking about books. And yet it was, in some ways, the truest relationship she had.

When she passed away, I was sad and cried, and so did my sisters. We sat together and said Psalms for her until very late that night, worried that no one else would. She passed away on 6 Teves, December 18, 2004.

As far as I know, this is the first proper obituary about her. Aunt Elizabeth, it may have taken me two decades, but I kept my promise to you. Perhaps I, or someone else, will name a child after you, some day. May your soul find peace and comfort, and your memory be for a blessing.

Sources:

From Miami University:

https://miamioh.edu/regionals/news/2017/04/holocaust-remembrance-day.html

The NY Times obituary:

https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/cincinnati/name/elizabeth-krukowski-obituary?pid=150571703?

And finally, a footnote. Please permit me a Biblical digression:

Aunt Elizabeth's favorite vessel in the Tabernacle would have been the outer altar, which was wrapped in purple cloth. The Outer Altar, the only part of the Tabernacle that was not in the area designated as holy, was a place for acknowledgement, confession, and atonement for sin. The color purple thus symbolized the G-dliness in every human, the part of us that strives for holiness and perfection, trying to overcome the animal part of the self. (Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsh, as per Aleph Beta)

The color purple and its Jewish symbolism:

https://www.alephbeta.org/blog/symbolism-tabernacle-colors