Meryl Ain's Blog

New Trends and Clinical Intervention in Grief and Bereavement Counseling

Friday January 12, 2018

8:30am to 1:45pm

Mid-Island Y JCC

Plainview, NY

EXHIBITOR SPONSOR REGISTRATION FORM (Word document)

This living memory was submitted by Linda Landow, who discovered that a menorah sitting on a shelf held a treasured family legacy.

Linda Landow (middle) with cousins Ida Lesserson (L) and Reva Rothenberg (R), Joe Landow’s daughters.

This menorah had been on my top shelf for many years. As it is not the menorah I light for Chanukah, I paid little attention to it.

Last year I finally took it down and looked closely at it and discovered Hebrew writing on the base. I asked a friend to translate it and was told, “This menorah is from the first Chanukah in Israel 1948!” It was also pointed out to me that the candle holders are made from bullet casings probably from the War of Independence!

My husband, Lloyd, then realized that this menorah was given to him by his Uncle Joe Landow, his father’s youngest brother, who was very involved in the establishment of the State of Israel and the War of Independence.

This menorah is now a family treasure that will continue to keep Uncle Joe Landow’s legacy alive.

Joe Landow in uniform

Menorah from the first Hanukkah in Israel in 1948. Candle holders are made from bullet casings.

Reprinted from HuffingtonPost.com, February 19, 2017, by Meryl Ain, Ed.D.

It was just another day in what has become my routine in the seventh week following my husband’s open-heart surgery. I was in a hurry, having left him at home with his fifth bout of atrial fibrillation since the surgery. I had to pick up yet another medication from CVS, where I am sorry to say they are all too familiar with my husband’s medications, and they know who I am.

With the $7 off “extra bucks” coupon I had garnered on my last trip, I decided to buy myself a treat while I was there. I settled on a lipstick labeled “medium berry.” I don’t know why I buy lipsticks without knowing what they will actually look like on my lips; they rarely work. But somehow it comforted me for a couple of minutes.

Then I headed to the supermarket to buy some fruits and vegetables, olive oil spray and salt-free seasoning — all part of our “new normal,” which involves avoiding take-out food and rarely eating out. When we occasionally indulge, it involves extensive questioning to determine that potential dishes have little or no salt.

As I was studying the mushroom options in the store, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vivian in the fruit aisle, examining pears and filling her plastic bag with them. Vivian is an acquaintance — a friend of friends. I suspect she’s a couple of years older than I am, although today I noticed that her bearing appeared younger than mine. I think she’s a person who is content with simple pleasures, like eating, babysitting for her grandchildren, playing cards and hanging out with her mother. No doubt, she was happily shopping for her mom.

Her mother is 103. She has all her faculties, goes to the beauty salon each week, plays cards, and chats with her neighbors and her daughter’s friends. When my mother moved to the area 11 years ago, I thought I would introduce her to Vivian’s mother. I believe I did, although I was a bit concerned that she was a little too old for my 85-year-old mother. Unfortunately, my mother never made it to 86, but Vivian’s mom is still going strong.

Which brings me back to Vivian and me. As she worked her way to the mushrooms, I saw that there was a glow around her, almost a protective shell that made her light and beautiful — and young. When your mother is alive, you think you are younger than you are because you are still someone’s child. When your mother is alive, you can bask in the warmth of her encouragement and support, always knowing that it is there for the taking. When your mother is alive, you have a buffer between you and mortality.

We exchanged greetings, and I hurried on, feeling heavy, vulnerable by contrast, and burdened by the lack of a buffer. I retreated to the safety of my car — and for the first time in many months, I sobbed, allowing my tears to wash over and heal me. I cried for the mother I could no longer confide in on a daily basis. I cried for the husband struggling with a rocky recovery. I cried for my lost youth and for my encounter with my own mortality.

And then it was over and I felt cleansed.

I remembered my mother’s words: “Everything is temporary.” My husband’s illness will pass and so will my exhaustion, that’s what my mother would say. More of my mother’s wisdom came to me: “Always be forgiving because you never know what someone else is experiencing.” How profoundly my husband’s illness has taught me that lesson, and how I hope I will continue to remember it.

I knew then and there that my mother would always be with me in one form or another.

With love and gratitude, I remembered the blessing of our growing family – with another grandchild soon on the way.

Coming face to face with your own mortality teaches you what really matters – good health, family, faith, friends, and community.

Coming face to face with your own mortality is not necessarily a bad thing. It makes you think about the bigger picture and your own legacy. It inspires you not only to give, but also to live.

Read the full article here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/58a9c179e4b0fa149f9ac783

Submitted by Linda Landow

My mom, Virginia Leffel, passed away 51 years ago. My dad, Irving Leffel, continued to live in our house in Rockville Center until his passing 19 years later. When my brothers and I were going through the house, I found a set of 12 sterling silver kiddush cups.

Having not been used in years, they were in terrible condition with broken stems and all tarnished. I took them to a silversmith who was able to restore them. I decided to keep three for my three young children and give the rest to close family members. These three cups are on my Passover table every year and are the kiddush cups that my children, now adults, use for their four cups of wine at the Passover seder. When my son Marc was married 22 years ago, the Rabbi wanted to use a family kiddush cup for the ceremony. Marc thought of his Seder cup and it became part of his wedding ceremony. By restoring and using these special Kiddush cups, our family has been keeping the memories alive for more than 50 years!

Sunday, January 1, 2017, 8:00 a.m.

Dr. Ain was featured on 710 WOR AM Radio Sunday 1/1/17 on “In The Arena” with host Msgr. Kieran Harrington.

The program also aired Sunday evening (1/1/17) at 8:00 p.m. on NET TV (which can be found on Fios, Direct, Dish, Time Warner).

You can also pick up the interview online at: http://netny.tv/shows/in-the-arena/

See the video here:

Sunday, January 1, 2017, 8:00 a.m.

Tune into 710 WOR AM Radio this Sunday to “In The Arena” with host Msgr. Kieran Harrington as he interviews special guest Dr. Meryl Ain.

The program will also air Sunday evening (1/1/17) at 8:00 p.m. on NET TV (which can be found on Fios, Direct, Dish, Time Warner).

You can also pick up the interview online at: http://netny.tv/shows/in-the-arena/

Dr. Meryl Ain recently discussed challenges that families who have lost loved ones face during the holiday season and offered empowering strategies for transforming grief into positive and comforting acts. She spoke about this topic at a book launch for her newly released book, My Living Memories Project Journal, held at Book Revue in Huntington, NY, where she personally greeted attendees and signed copies of the new work.

View the video of the event.

Photos from the event:

Meryl and Stewart Ain spoke about “A Season to Count Blessings and Remember Legacies” at an ecumenical Thanksgiving Service, co-sponsored by the Dix Hills Jewish Center and Church Unleashed in Commack. Rabbi Howard Buechler and Pastor Todd Bishop, spiritual leaders of their respective congregations, offered prayers of Thanksgiving.

Watch the story of Liz and Steve Alderman, who after losing their son Peter on 9/11, made the decision to turn their tragedy into triumph. They created the Peter C. Alderman Foundation in honor of their son, that operates mental health clinics in post-conflict countries to treat the local traumatized populations. View the video below or click here.