Uhry & Me
At first glance, you might wonder what Nobel Prize winner Alfred Uhry and me, a Jewish girl from New York, have in common. And trust me, I did too. But the more I learned about Uhry and Driving Miss Daisy, the more I found we had in common.
We're both from small Jewish communities, and while we have each grown to take pride in our backgrounds, they haven't always felt like points of pride for us. Uhry has been quoted saying that when he was younger he only wished that he could wake up one day an Episcopalian. Though I attended a religious day school from pre-Kindergarten through eighth grade, I then went on to attend a secular, single-sex high school. I felt out of place--of course I missed the friend that I had grown up with, but the older I've gotten, the more I've realized that I missed the intimate sense of community that attending a Jewish school had instilled in me.
Similarly, after the success of Driving Miss Daisy, Uhry began realizing and acknowledging the uniqueness and innateness of his Jewish identity. He's said there's something about being Jewish, regardless of how observant you are or are not, that reaches your bones. More recently, the conversation of Judaism as a culture has come up in my life, as well. For me, finding out that someone is Jewish, especially as I've gotten older, has become a source of comfort. Like Uhry said, regardless of the extent of your religiousness, the culture of Judaism is much more than a title--it truly does affect who you are at your core. Sure, there are simple and more trivial things, like playing "Jewish geography" with new acquaintances. But it's really in a time of need, where the intrinsic warmth and tradition shine through.
Moving to Atlanta for college was daunting, at first, in part due to my fear that I wouldn't find a community that mirrored my own at home. Following typical stereotypes of the south, I believed I would stick out like a sore thumb, and certainly be the only Jewish person around for miles. Shortly after my arrival, I learned that I could not have been more wrong. Now, three years later, I have a diverse and tight-knit community of my own within Emory, but I will admit that the people I find most comfort in, are those that share that same Jewish cultural background.
I can't quite describe it, and I'm not sure that I know anyone who has the right words for it either, but like Uhry said, "There is something about being Jewish, even as un-Jewish as I was brought up to be, that’s in the marrow of your bones." As an English major, being inarticulate is one of my greatest fears, but what I'm striving to describe is much more of a feeling than anything else.
Even stepping into Emory's Chabad House is like stepping into my aunt's kitchen at home. The smells, the comfort, the sounds--they all come together to create the ultimate source of comfort. Though I'm certainly not as traditionally religious as I was brought up to be, I still find myself gravitating towards my Jewish roots when I'm homesick or just need a little reprieve from my normal life. So maybe for me, being Jewish translates into being home. And finding other Jews around me is like finding little pieces of home within them.
We're both from small Jewish communities, and while we have each grown to take pride in our backgrounds, they haven't always felt like points of pride for us. Uhry has been quoted saying that when he was younger he only wished that he could wake up one day an Episcopalian. Though I attended a religious day school from pre-Kindergarten through eighth grade, I then went on to attend a secular, single-sex high school. I felt out of place--of course I missed the friend that I had grown up with, but the older I've gotten, the more I've realized that I missed the intimate sense of community that attending a Jewish school had instilled in me.
Similarly, after the success of Driving Miss Daisy, Uhry began realizing and acknowledging the uniqueness and innateness of his Jewish identity. He's said there's something about being Jewish, regardless of how observant you are or are not, that reaches your bones. More recently, the conversation of Judaism as a culture has come up in my life, as well. For me, finding out that someone is Jewish, especially as I've gotten older, has become a source of comfort. Like Uhry said, regardless of the extent of your religiousness, the culture of Judaism is much more than a title--it truly does affect who you are at your core. Sure, there are simple and more trivial things, like playing "Jewish geography" with new acquaintances. But it's really in a time of need, where the intrinsic warmth and tradition shine through.
Moving to Atlanta for college was daunting, at first, in part due to my fear that I wouldn't find a community that mirrored my own at home. Following typical stereotypes of the south, I believed I would stick out like a sore thumb, and certainly be the only Jewish person around for miles. Shortly after my arrival, I learned that I could not have been more wrong. Now, three years later, I have a diverse and tight-knit community of my own within Emory, but I will admit that the people I find most comfort in, are those that share that same Jewish cultural background.
I can't quite describe it, and I'm not sure that I know anyone who has the right words for it either, but like Uhry said, "There is something about being Jewish, even as un-Jewish as I was brought up to be, that’s in the marrow of your bones." As an English major, being inarticulate is one of my greatest fears, but what I'm striving to describe is much more of a feeling than anything else.
Even stepping into Emory's Chabad House is like stepping into my aunt's kitchen at home. The smells, the comfort, the sounds--they all come together to create the ultimate source of comfort. Though I'm certainly not as traditionally religious as I was brought up to be, I still find myself gravitating towards my Jewish roots when I'm homesick or just need a little reprieve from my normal life. So maybe for me, being Jewish translates into being home. And finding other Jews around me is like finding little pieces of home within them.