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Funeral Remarks
Dora Perlman Sizeler
January 24, 2002
Rabbi Edward Paul Cohn,
Temple Sinai,
New Orleans, Louisiana
LITTLE PARABLE FOR MOTHERS
The young Mother set her foot on the path of life.
"Is the way long?" she asked.
And her Guide said: "Yes. And the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning."
But the young Mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed with them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them and life was good, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."
Then night came, and storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the Mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, "Oh, Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come," and the Mother said, "This is better than the brightness of day, for I have taught my children courage."
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the Mother was weary, but at all times she
said to the children, "A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and when they reached the top, they said, "We could not have done it without you, Mother." And the Mother, when she lay down that night, looked at the stars and said: "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday, I gave them courage. Today I have given them strength."
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the Mother grew older, and she was little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And when the way was hard, they helped their Mother, and when the way was rough, they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
And the Mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know that the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them."
And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates."
And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said, "We cannot see her but she is with us
still. A mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence."
"A living presence," such will be Dora Perlman Sizeler: your mother, sister, mother-in-law, beloved aunt, grandmother, and precious friend. Born and raised in New Orleans to Russian immigrant parents, Dora's home was the Dryads' Street neighborhood of turn-of-the-century New Orleans. But Dora's world was to be larger! For she would widen her world by graduating from Sophie Newcomb in 1929 with a degree in education. She became a teacher: talented, ardent, sensitive, insightful.
Dora's children, Stanley, Alan and Larry remember their Mom as a gentle, kindly, and thoughtful woman, blessed with great intellectual curiosity and an amazing zest for life. After teaching, she became a homemaker, but then also an astute business woman which continued until last week. Her work was her therapy and a healthy outlet. But, by no means was Dora's world merely one of occupational calling. She was too much a part of her surrounds to close herself off. For instance, Dora was one of the longest supporters of The Little TheatreBover 70 years. She was a Symphony subscriber, and an opera season ticket holder. Dora was an officer of the Louisiana Historical Society, attending its meetings and joining along on its regular trips. Moreover, Dora was an enthusiastic membership recruiter.
An avid reader, she was current and well-informed on the controversial political issues of the day. And even more, she could expertly review the latest films and discuss the nuances and subtleties of lectures and concerts. Dora had many friends, before she outlived most of them! And she enjoyed many friendships because she was not a harsh or judgmental soul. By nature, Dora was a positive thinker, unquestionably fair-minded and genuinely kind. She was quick to forgive, and never bore a grudge. Dora lived the values and virtues of Yom Kippur all year long! And speaking of religion, she consciously chose to exchange her homeborn orthodoxy for Temple Sinai Reform Judaism. Her roots at Sinai go all the way back to the Carondelet Street Temple and to Rabbis Heller, Binstock, and Feibelman. She wanted her children to know the beauty and sanity of Reform Judaism as well. As a matter of fact, Dora expertly taught the two toughest grades in our Religious School: grades 7 and 8.
In 1931, Dora married the love of her life: Sidney Sizeler. Theirs was a beautiful and devoted marriage of two loving souls. They say that we never really quite grow up as long as we have a mother to come home to. Stanley, Alan, and Larry were quick to tearfully affirm that their mother was this planet's greatest, entirely irreplaceable, and the best friend they'll ever have in all the world. Dora's calming manner, her articulate voice, and commanding presence made he a most engaging and uncommon personality. Such was her welcoming and encouraging influence upon her daughter-in-law, Miriam, and her two granddaughters, Cydney and Jennifer, whose joy it was to reciprocate in kind every ounce of their Grandmother's love and caring. Stanley, Alan and Lawrence, Etta and Sybal, Cydney and Jennifer, you've never lived a day in your life without her: she was ever the majestic and magnetic force in your life.
She leaves you bereft, but the beneficiaries of a most worthy legacy of independent, purposeful living. And all of you will delight to remember this elegant woman of intellect and utmost character and class. She was, most of all, generous, selfless, and concerned about each one of you for 92 beautiful years. And just like those children in our opening parable, you, too, are lucky to be able to attest of Dora, on this occasion of tender tribute and farewell: You will always walk with us Mother, even when you have gone through the gates. She is with us still. . . . more than a memory. . . (forever) a living presence. Amen.
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