Becka and Emma Remember Grandma Sara

Hello everyone, and thank you all so much for being here as we pay tribute to a wonderful woman. I'm Becka and this is Emma. Sara Breibart was many things to many people but to us, she was just Grandma. Loving, generous, supportive, and one of the most stubborn people we have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Our grandmother lived for 98 ½ years, which in and of itself is something to be impressed by and remembered for, but to everyone who really knew her, she was so much more than those years.

Grandma was strong and fiercely determined, no-holds-barred and honest to a fault - you could always count on knowing exactly where you stood with her at any given moment. There wasn't any bullshit with her. She always had an opinion on everything, and was not afraid to share it with you.

I thought for sure she could never be stumped, but for my own curiosity, I tried once. About five or six years ago, I had come down to Charleston and she was asking me about my love life (which she did ad nauseam until I got married). I was sharing a story with her about a date I'd been on, and she stopped me to ask about who he was - checking to make sure all of the "requirements" had been met - Jewish, Democrat, doctor or lawyer, educated, hard-worker, etc. I thought having one or two of these might be nice, but all of them combined seemed not only unrealistic, but also not what I was looking for. But in the midst of her rattling off what she wanted for me, I stopped and asked: "Grandma, would you rather I date someone who is Republican and Jewish, or a Democrat and Christian?" She was stumped. So she paused. Thought about it for a moment, smiled and said, "Please don't make me choose."

To which my response was "my criteria are kind, loving, genuine, and shared core values. That's what matters to me." And after deliberating for a few moments, she said "I agree with you and I want those things for you… But Jewish and a Democrat would be nice too." And we both smiled.

Granny told us the story many times of how, years ago, she and our grandfather were driving somewhere, and in typical Sara fashion, she didn't know the directions. Papa asked her how it was possible that she didn't know the way, since they'd done it hundreds of times. "Well, you've watched me make dinner hundreds of times," she responded. "Would you be able to do it?" He never commented on her lack of directions again.

When we first brought her back to Bishop Gadsden after her stroke last June, she was very confused. One of the nurses checked her over and asked the classic questions: what's your name - which Granny gave her, along with a look indicating she wasn't sure why she was being asked such a thing - do you know where you are? - Granny had no idea, not even understanding that she was back at Bishop Gadsden - and do you know who the president is. Granny's response to this last was a heartfelt, "don't talk to me about that horrible man."

As she continued through the next few weeks, flashes of her personality continued to show through as various physical, speech, and occupational therapists worked with her. One thing they all noticed was that she would sometimes move the fingers of her right hand in a repetitive tapping motion - as if she were clicking a mouse. When they brought this to our attention, we realized it looked an awful lot like she was still playing FreeCell - a favourite pastime of hers - one might even say addiction - prior to the stroke.

One of the other things they all commented on was that even when she couldn't be bothered to open her eyes for her therapy sessions, she still managed to correct their grammar - another favourite pastime of hers. Whether with directions, politics, computer games, or lessons, through everything, she was always Sara.

Mark Remembers His Mom

Hi,

I'm Mark, Sara's son. This crowd is a bit intimidating to speak to, because you all have your own wonderful memories and stories. I'll try to add a few.

Like most people who lived a long life, Mom played many roles and showed different faces to different people. But despite the differences, I think she was, at her core, the same across the roles and the decades. I'd like to tell a few anecdotes that I think are telling. All, oddly enough, involve driving. The first was a long time ago. I was maybe six years old and was in the car with her. We stopped at a red light and she turned to me and said, "Let's talk about values". I don't remember the rest, but the fact that she thought a life should be guided by a set of important principles made a big impression. And 60 plus years later - up to a few days before she died, she was still thinking of those principles and dispensing them in little bits of Sara wisdom to anyone who would listen.

The second story is about Mom driving to work. As most of you know, she was a terrible driver. But she drove herself to work every day until she was 92. And she did it in a very Sara-ish way. She figured out which lane she needed to be in as she left South Windermere, and then stayed in that lane all the way to the library. Looking neither to the left nor the right, she just charged ahead and expected nobody to get in her way. Well, that's sort of the way she lived her life. She figured out where she wanted to go and how she might get there, and then she just went after it.

The third story took place early in her marriage with Dad. They were going for a drive, came to a fork, and Dad asked Mom which way she wanted to go. She said, "Let's go right". Dad went left. They drove a little way and Mom said, "Solly, stop the car." This time he did as she asked. And she said, "I don't really care whether we went left or right. You went the way you wanted to go. That's fine. But next time, we go the way I want to go."

That was Mom. She had a rock-solid set of core beliefs that guided her through so much of what she did, from teaching Sunday School 50 years ago, to leading Great Books discussions at the library, to a strong sense of social justice, and to an identification with the Democratic Party that was so passionate as to make her feel that even talking to a Republican was like surrender to the enemy.

She had a focus and determination that, for those who differed from her, made her seem like a bull in a china shop, but for those who agreed with her, she was loved and admired. And she had a very strong sense of her own worth. Standing up for herself, not letting anyone push her around or short change her, were central to her being. And, by extension, she wanted everyone around her to also stand up for themselves, to get their due, and to be the strongest person they could be. Even after she had her stroke, I overheard her asking one of her caregivers if she were a nurse. The young woman said, No, she was an aide. My mother, though greatly diminished cognitively, said, "You should go back to school. Get your degree. You can do more." And then she added with a sweet smile, "And you'll get paid more."

Mom was a doer, always trying to right some wrong or push through something new, perfectly willing to step on toes if she thought she was in the right. Which brings me to two accomplishments she was particularly proud of, because they epitomize who she was and what she believed. One was when she worked for the Manager of Charleston County. She loved it when people would call with everyday problems - garbage not being picked up, not being able to see someone in the County Jail - because she knew she could pick up a phone and, in the name of the County Manager, call anyone in the County and get the problem fixed. She loved the sense of power that conveyed - she loved to say she ran the County -- but she also loved being able to do something for other people, people she felt needed an advocate, people she felt were trying to get their due.

The second accomplishment was bringing the Metropolitan Opera to the Library, and not only bringing the opera but bringing it as a free benefit to anyone who wanted to come. She couldn't have done it without the help of some well-connected people in town (thank you, Mayor Riley), but neither would it have happened without her dogged persistence and determination. It was something of a coup, and, I believe, is the only place in the country where the Met does this. That was a biggie she was extremely proud of. And she was especially proud of the pleasure she knew it brought to so many people.

Mom ruffled many feathers over her life, and could be infuriating. But, in addition to her extended family whom she loved dearly, she developed an amazing set of friends who were devoted to her and who supported her. At the risk of leaving out others who were equally important in her life, the family would particularly like to thank a few who, in the last years of her life, were available at a moment's notice to help her with anything she needed, from trips to Costco to friendship to intellectual and political sustenance. Ginger and Jane Tezza, David Rittenberg, Tom Walker, and Amy Skinner brought her constant joy and encouragement. You did what we, a geographically dispersed family, could not do, and we can't thank you enough. You were super special. And to all of you who came to remember her, thank you. You meant the world to her and are one of the main reasons she could say just a couple of days ago that she had no regrets.