By Pauli Libsohn
Thomas Wolfe once wrote “…you can never go home again,” and as I sat remembering that famous line, I was filled with nervous trepidation as the day approached that I too would be going home again – only not to my home, but to my mother’s high school to honor her memory with her literary achievements.
To my delight and surprise, I found it to be magical! That one word sums up the experience I encountered after answering an invitation from my mother’s high school to address four Advanced Placement Creative Writing classes, to speak about her beginnings at Richmond Hill High as an “ordinary” yet very much “unordinary” student striving to achieve brilliance in English Literature and her beloved English Composition courses, resulting in her authorship of four books, sixty years later.
As the date of my guest lectureship approached, I experienced feelings of excitement along with those of apprehension. The thought of actually going to my mother’s high school of which she spoke so many times, was thrilling yet sorrowful. Sorrowful in the respect that I was going to revisit my mother’s youth, which was a struggle for her.
She spoke so many times of jealousies that took place with regard to friendships and acceptance in her high school, populated by mostly wealthy children of Forest Hills and its surroundings.
My mother was from the “wrong side” of town, and had a different experience, feeling unaccepted because of her inability to keep up with the students of privilege in terms of clothing and social standing.
However, my mother was exceptional in terms of her English achievements, having been skipped twice, which resulted in her being both emotionally and physically two years behind. Yet she tried desperately to keep up, which she eventually successfully achieved. She in essence, flowered and never gave up!
And so, all these thoughts were whirling about in my head, but I was determined to attend and relive for a day, where my mother walked, sat, studied and became a “scholar.”
Finally, the day came, and I arrived at the main entrance of the school, and as I did, tried to imagine my mother walking through those very same doors that I was about to enter. I knew she had been there in that very same spot, and now I was about to embark on a journey that would take me into her school – her daughter – with my mission being to speak about her and her success, which began with her brilliant educational experience at Richmond Hill.
However, I was taken aback by the Police presence, which I quickly realized was “normal” in this day and age in all New York City schools.
I proceeded to walk up the steps and entered – in awe and with wide-eyes – the “foyer,” trying to imagine what it must have been like when my mother was attending school, again, with the realization that my mother had actually entered the same doors that I had just entered, and walked through the very same foyer and hallways.
I found that this was in actuality becoming a spiritual reaction to something so “every day.” I then was “checked in” by four police officers at the front desk, and given a pass allowing me to enter the school.
Walking up the marble staircase, with polished gold chrome banisters, I was trying to imagine what it had been like in its heyday, when it was practically brand new – breathtaking!
I was, in my mind’s eye, picturing my mother and her friends excitedly chatting, walking and running through the halls, studiously sitting in their classrooms.
Transfixed, I was almost in a trance like state, knowing again, that my mother had been here as a young girl, remembering all the stories that she told over and over again, and now, I was here retracing her steps. It was mind-boggling.
I arrived at the English Department Office and met the Assistant Principal of English, who was excitedly awaiting my arrival.
There, I was imagining my mother sitting in that very same office, speaking with the then chairman of English and receiving awards at that very same desk, presented by the head of the English Department.
It was as if I was truly having an out-of-body experience! I was transfixed. My mind was racing with my thoughts — thoughts of my mother as a brilliant young girl, making a name for herself, and now I was here in that very same office, telling of her extraordinary success as an author and poet, which I created for her.
Next, I was given my schedule for the day, and proceeded to find the first classroom in which I was to be a guest speaker. When I walked into the room, it was awe-inspiring, for I was envisioning that this classroom was one in which my mother was actually a student! She had to have been – it was an English class!
As the students came in, I felt their eyes on me, and wanting to “get to know me.” They had all been told that I was to be addressing their class, but about what they did not know. Once everyone was seated, I was introduced, and they became wide-eyed.
At the same time, I experienced a surge of warmth in my body and a feeling of inner peace. It was almost as if my mother was “sitting-in” at the back of the classroom, listening and guiding me through.
The students were exceptional, and when I announced who I was, and that my mother had attended Richmond Hill High School in the 1930’s, they were “oohhing and aahhhing,” in disbelief, and then feel silent. I had them!
They were enthralled with me, and could not get over my story that I had to tell. Riveted, and starry-eyed, they were hypnotized by the fact that my mother had her beginnings in their school and was able to achieve “fame,” just by believing in herself, and never giving up.
I explained, that if you have an idea, or if you have a dream, no matter how small or trivial it might be, continue to believe in it, letting it take you wherever it might lead, for one day that idea or that dream could very well come true.
After all, as I very carefully tried to put forth, it took my mother her entire lifetime to accomplish what she did – but she did! You can never lose your nerve – just by being yourself you can achieve whatever you want.
In addition, the students were amazed at both my mother’s story and mine, for it was I who kept my promise to my mother and had her writings published even though she had passed on. I never, not for one moment let her down – how could I – I made her a promise!
Everyone in all the classes were hypnotized by this very romantic and heartwarming story of a daughter’s promise, and the love between a man and a woman that to this day has never been broken – the captivating story about which my mother lovingly wrote in her poetry, detailing her love of my father and my father’s love of her.
At the end of each period, the students actually did not want my lecture to stop! After each class, they came up to thank me for coming and taking the time to be with them, taking photographs, signing autographs, and asking that I make a return visit in the spring.
They gave me a welcome in its truest form, in which I also include the faculty, for they were warm, sincere, and most interested in learning about my mother and myself, subsequently sharing their lives and their stories.
These teachers were truly amazing, taking time out of their full schedule to make sure that I was comfortable, and at ease. They were true professionals in every sense of the word!
At the end of the day, I found it to be bittersweet. Then, in a relaxed frame of mind, I strolled down the hallways, again knowing that my mother had been there, and in that very moment, it was so unbelievable that I was there too – it almost became overwhelming.
I can’t exactly put it into words for it became a spiritual circumstance which I felt pulsing through my mind, senses and emotions. I had undergone a transformation, and now I was digesting the cumulative effect of the events of the day.
I know my mother was there with me – I just know it – she returned in spirit to her dear Richmond Hill High School for the day, along with me.
When I arrived home, I called my psychic friend to tell him of my experience. I asked him if he had any reason to believe that my mother was “actually” there with me, for I had felt such a strong presence. He said to me “…give me a minute.”
Then, continuing, he relayed “your mother took a seat in the back of each classroom – she was beaming.” I then told him of my feelings – of the warmth pulsing through me, of a certain spirituality that I had felt. “For the entire day, your mother was with you – Why do you think things went so smoothly and so well? She was there – she orchestrated this entire day.”
Speechless, I continued to listen. “This was planned. From the moment you called her school to suggest such a day take place, she was ‘in charge.’” “This was meant to happen!” Again, I was in awe, yet fully believing, since he was recounting everything that I had just experienced.
It was all true – it all happened just as he said. Now, I had verification of my suspicions – my mother ‘came with me’, wanting me to address the students at her alma mater, to see her beginnings, and to be a success!
Pauli Libsohn is a Manhasset resident who wrote three books in honor of her mother’s poetry after her death.
