{"id":4923,"date":"2012-07-23T11:15:58","date_gmt":"2012-07-23T18:15:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lilith.org\/?p=3640"},"modified":"2013-02-11T17:29:43","modified_gmt":"2013-02-11T22:29:43","slug":"talking-with-bel-kaufman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lilith.org\/2012\/07\/talking-with-bel-kaufman\/","title":{"rendered":"Talking with Bel Kaufman"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Photo by Joan Roth<\/p><\/div>\n

Often during lunchtime, at the unbelievably delicious Italian restaurant Centolire, Bel Kaufman can be found regaling guests with stories. On May 11th, 2012, elegant friends gathered at the Madison Avenue eatery to celebrate her 101 birthday. \u201cWhen I turned 100,\u201d she told us, \u201cEveryone called to say \u201coh how wonderful. G-d bless you. Oh, are you really 100. Can I make a party? There were parties and honoring events galore. Everywhere I went, people wished me a Mazel Tov, and on and on. Now, when I tell people I am 101 \u2013 they say, Oh, really.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At lunch, Bel went around the table telling each one what she thought of us. For those seated nearby, she shouted, so they could hear her. Of course, I had brought my little camera with me and could not resist snapping this powerful moment \u2013 filled with the love, joy and exuberance with which Bel always lived life.<\/span><\/p>\n

She says, the photograph reminds her that she is an anomaly. \u201cI am not the average 101-year-old woman. Few live to be this old in as good as shape as I am,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

Weeks later, Bel and I met for our own private lunch. This time at Demarchelier, another Bel French favorite. With Centolire closing and Demarchelier sold to new owners, Bel surpasses us all, exclaims the ma\u00eetre d’.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bel\u2019s wearing an unmistakable pair of oversized multicolored Pucci sunglasses, recently found in her drawer, \u201cThey\u2019re older than I am,\u201d she quips. I compliment her, saying she looks great, \u201cIf I don\u2019t look good at 101, when will I look good?\u201d she answers back with<\/span>
\n effervescent charm and humor.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the secret of living so long?\u201d<\/span>
\n \u201cSimple, just wait and wait, wait some more and keep on waiting.\u201d About her hearing: \u201cI hear half of what you say and make up the other half.\u201d She refuses to wear a hearing aid. Not covered by Medicare. Like her grandfather, Sholom Aleichem, Bel hopes to be remembered with laughter. When she dies, she wants people to say, \u201cYou know Bel died,<\/span>
\n ha, ha \u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She doesn\u2019t consider living to 120 a blessing \u2013 the tradition hails from Methuselah having lived to 120 \u2013 unless, of course, she will have all her teeth, \u201cMy teeth are my own, my dentist can\u2019t get over it,\u201d and her blond hair. \u201cMy own, except the color.\u201d She has finally<\/span>
\n decided she will soon let it grey, and she can still walk and ballroom dance in her legendary high heels.<\/span><\/p>\n

About her memory: Her memory has always been sharp. She was always proud of her brain, liked the way it worked.<\/span><\/p>\n

A remembrance from a time when she was young and stood at ocean\u2019s edge: \u201cA young man approached with his son, who was only three. He turned to the ocean and said to him, \u2018Tony, one day all this will be yours.\u2019\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you were young did you realize what a brief and excellent time it would be?\u201d she asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bel was born in Odessa and grew up during the terrible time of the Communist revolution. \u201cBefore then we always had two cooks, that\u2019s why the communists called us bourgeois \u2013 the worst name one could be called. My mother didn\u2019t even know how to open a can.\u201d<\/span>
\n \u201cDo you cook?\u201d<\/span>
\n \u201cNo, do you?\u201d<\/span>
\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A Lesson in Communism:<\/span>
\n \u201cI was a 9-year-old girl, wheeling my baby brother, a newborn, in his carriage, in front of our house. I stopped, bent down to pick him up and hold him in my arms, when a woman came out of nowhere and stole the baby carriage. Today my baby brother, still very cute, is 92 years old. When my mother asked, \u2018What happened to the carriage?\u2019 I told her, others have babies too and they need carriages. Thank goodness they took the carriage and not the baby.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIn those days, I had a little notebook. I think I still have it. I was writing my first Russian play. The title translated from Russian is, In The Kitchen, by Bel Kaufman. The notebook opens with a list of 29 characters. Each one is described to a T \u2013 how he\/she looked, what each one wore, their socks, shoes and hobbies. By the time I finished describing the characters, the notebook was filled. There was no room for act 1 \u2013 scene 1.”<\/span><\/p>\n

About digitizing her archives: \u201cA whole new experience, a whole new media and vocabulary, a way of working that is both refreshing and challenging for me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bel recalls, \u201cI was always good at everything I did. But that\u2019s not what life is really about. With all the awards, fame and tributes, what means the most to me is the letters I received from my students. Now that I find myself again reading them, my foot is stretched in two different worlds, two ways of being, needing to know who I am in the present, with the eyes to foresee what my future legacy might be.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I went to school, I had to be the best. If I got 98% on a test, my father would say \u2013 only 98%? Why not 100%? And, when I graduated Hunter College magna cum laude, my father said, \u2018Why not sum cum laude?\u2019 My father\u2019s inability to praise me haunted me all my life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

After savoring the last drop of her whiskey sour, Bel rises. Wearing powder blue jeans, akin to fashionable summer leggings, a shirt, scarf and blazer, and, it goes without saying, high heels, she grabs her walker and off she goes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Blessings to you dear Belochka. May you walk and dance in those outrageous high heels to at least 120!<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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