Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Mourning into Dancing


The other day a Debbie Friedman song popped up on my ipod shuffle. I had no idea it was even on my ipod or how it got there. Debbie Friedman was a singer and composer of songs, many in Hebrew, often reworking prayers from the Jewish prayerbook.

“Mourning into dancing” is Debbie Friedman’s riff on Psalm 30, a song of gratitude.

It was a day or two after I had some terribly sad, shocking news and I took it as a sign. Somehow I needed to transform my mourning into something like dancing, a creative expression of gratitude. I did not get the chance to do this before she died. She failed to give me notice.

The woman who died, suddenly, unexpectedly was my compass for over 25 years. Eda Goldstein was alternately my supervisor, or rather I was her apprentice, she was my teacher, my mentor, a model of professional accomplishment, my guru. She helped me negotiate a good bit of my professional and personal life. I was not in continuous contact with her over those 30 years, but she was always there when I got into trouble and I needed help in sorting things out. She was without peer in both her loyalty and in her wise guidance.

I think I need to say “thank you”

When I first started to go into New York City to get supervision from her, in the early 80’s, a friend and colleague noted that I was awfully quiet about what was happening there. Well I was quiet because it was a humbling experience.

I remember my  brief case was new (now scruffy, battered, ripped and repaired). The children had reached an age when I felt comfortable working more and my priorities were getting re-shuffled. I was determined to learn from a master. So I cheerfully schlepped into NYC to sit at her feet. And it was overwhelming.

She was a tough task master, she never sugar coated her counsel on cases and frequently I would smart from her observations. Later, much later, she observed that most supervisees just want to be admired, not taught. I’m sure I was one of those, but I stuck it out, nonetheless and ultimately her toughness gave me confidence.

I discovered Eda at a lecture in New Jersey. She was a annoyed with her sponsors.  Nonetheless she was a brilliant presenter at that meeting. My friend E. agreed that she was special. I decided right there that she was to be my mentor

That friend and colleague loved her too. The supervision group of which we both were a part, shared her in a way, even if they never schlepped into New York to see her, they shared her with me, her wisdom, her depth, her clear-eyed respect and compassion for clients. Among her more notable qualities was that clarity. There was a kind of laser-like quality to her thinking (and her writing). She effortlessly peeled back, down right ignored, what was extraneous, not central to the issue at hand.

Social workers all have inferiority complexes. No matter how advanced their training, no matter the length of their experience, no matter their academic credentials they feel and often are regarded as “less” than their clinical colleagues, psychologists and psychiatrists. They are paid less and related to as less, despite the fact that their training may be equivalent or even surpass other mental health professionals.

Being associated with a star like Eda Goldstein did a lot for my own professional self esteem. She is described by the Dean of New York University, School of Social Work where she taught and led faculty and students in many roles for decades: “ Eda was, and remains to the day of her death, the foremost social work scholar of contemporary psychoanalytic theory and practice. Her loss is a great loss for our community and for the field.” This scholar and brilliant clinician thought I was okay, maybe even bright. That helped a lot.

For decades I was comforted by the certainty that any idea I had, plan of action, or major move I contemplated could be run past her. I could and actually still do comfort myself with that, even though I can only do it in my imagination now. Mostly I know what she would say. But when my imagination runs aground, I am bereft.

I wish I could just send this to her. I would love her feedback. And more importantly, I would want her to know how much I loved and will miss her.



7 comments:

  1. What a lovely tribute to Eda Goldstein. I can certainly feel your sadness. I'm sure she knew how much you loved and respected her. Some people, they say, come into our lives for a reason, and she certainly influenced you.
    I, too, had such an influence in my life: Mrs. Florence Alexander, my high school Latin teacher for 4 years. Somehow I let her become my conscience and tried to absorb her wisdom, knowledge, values and attitudes. I always wanted her to be proud of me. I still regret that I never told her that I became a Latin teacher and that I tried to emulate her. I never thanked her. However, I always told my students about her and how much she taught me, how much she meant to me. I guess, in a way, my telling them about her immortalized her.

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  2. I saw Eda for years, "finding myself" as a young, confused emotionally unsupported gifted young woman grappling with my sexual orientation. Although she extinquished my creative fire, she was my personal counsel, much like a friend, although she was adament she was not a friend. Boundaries were firmly in place. She was a concerned and intelligent professional who must have done something right. I had wanted to communicate with her to tell her I was writing and doing art again, and yet she is no longer on this earth plane. It is a loss to everyone whose life she touched. I wonder where the pen and ink drawing I presented as a gift is now, and would like it back. Who would have it now? I had wanted to contact her about it and cannot. I think I did thank her for her guidance and patience while she was living. I'm glad for that. She was my "Buddha Woman" I told her. Wise and sensible. She is missed. I love you Eda! Rest in peace. (Karen K.)

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  3. The tribute to Eda Goldstein is beautifully expressed.

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    1. thank you.
      For some reason I didn't see this until now.
      may

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    2. thank you.
      For some reason I didn't see this until now.
      may

      Delete
  4. Thank you. I agree that this was a great tribute to Ms. Goldstein. My name is Kelvin Brown LMSW. I realize that this is old, but I am also an admirer of Ms. Goldsteins work and I haVA some questions and ideas. If anyone is interested please email me at krbrown1721@gmail.com. Thank you for your time.

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  5. Thank you. I agree that this was a great tribute to Ms. Goldstein. My name is Kelvin Brown LMSW. I realize that this is old, but I am also an admirer of Ms. Goldsteins work and I haVA some questions and ideas. If anyone is interested please email me at krbrown1721@gmail.com. Thank you for your time.

    ReplyDelete