Cynthia's Eulogy
July 2, 2007
Hello everyone (as the Rabbi said) I’m Michael Caplan, Cynthia’s son.
Its an incredible privilege to be here today, surrounded by my family and so many of my mother’s friends, all here to honor her and her inspiring life.
Everyone who knew my mother knows what a beautiful person she was, both inside and out. But before I get more into that, let me just give those of you who don’t know a quick overview of her background.
She was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on September 20th, 1932. Her parents, Max and Anne Ruttenberg, moved the family to Chicago when my Mom was 2 so Max could better represent American Textiles, in the Midwest, that was the family business he founded and owned with his brothers. My mom grew up on the near north side of Chicago, in an apartment at 3750 Lake Shore Drive (on the corner of Grace Street) and, like me, grew up as an only child. She told me how as a kid she loved to read, visit museums, and appreciate the lively atmosphere of City life – she always loved the City. She went to the University of Wisconsin at Madison for two years and then, after meeting my Dad, Jay, transferred to Northwestern University where she graduated with a BA and MA in English Literature. She met my Dad while a still a student and they got married on June 25th, 1953 (last Tuesday was their 54th wedding anniversary (I know the obit said 55 years – you just can’t believe what you read in the paper).
I came along in 1958 and in 1964 she and my Dad moved to Highland Park where she lived for the rest of her life. After raising me for a number of years she became a school teacher, working for over 20 years at Wauconda High School where she taught art and English literature. She was also a serious artist who produced a substantial body of beautiful and eclectic work over the course of her life. And of course, she was a devoted wife and mother. She was the core caring spirit of our little nuclear family.
Its one thing for a son to talk about his mother in a glowing and reverential way. Perhaps it lacks credibility by definition. But over the last few days as I talked with so many people about her life I’ve been moved by how deeply people truly loved her as friend, confidant, teacher and catalyst in their own lives. Its extremely touching to hear from people how truly loved she was and how much people valued her as part of their lives.
One of her cousins from California told me yesterday that my mother was "an easy person to be around". I have always found that to be true – she’d always enjoy just hanging out with me, or me and my friends, with no particular expectations of what we needed to be doing. More than that she was just fun. She was playful and it always felt good to spend time with her.
So its interesting how a person that it is so easy to spend time with can also be such a powerful element in people’s lives. I’d like to suggest that several deep qualities in her personality contributed to this -- Her great listening skills, her uniquely wonderful sense of humor, and her fundamental kindness as a human being.
Now, her excellent listening skills were based on the fact that she loved authentic "real" conversation and truly cared about what other people thought and felt. She was bright and insightful and interested in what made people tick. I know with me, we’d get into conversations where she’d reflect ideas and insights back in a way that had genuine power and strength.
And then there is her humor…how can one describe it? Silly, goofy, irreverent. Occasionally she would get into an uncontrollable fit of laughter from which she could barely recover. During a certain period my mother’s appreciation of British comedy led to endless silly accents derived from Peter Cook and the cast of Monty Python. After she retired from teaching she went for a trip to England and returned with an insatiable desire to imitate the Queen Mum. To the best of my knowledge, this is not typical behavior of retired ladies who live in Highland Park.
And then there was her fundamental kindness as a human being. My mother thought of loving-kindness as a human quality of great, if not transformative value. And she was a very kind person who reflected that value very well in most aspects of her life. It was perhaps most simply embodied in her warm loving smile – significantly, that is something I remember noticing even as a very young boy. I know other people noticed that too. Even during the course of her final illness, sometimes her smiles would shine through and just light up the room. It was just fundamental to her being.
Beyond her smile, her kindness expressed itself in just so many ways:
She was generous in giving praise to others yet was typically quite self effacing and humble. She was proud of her art but never struck people as having a huge ego about it.
She liked giving and receiving little tokens of affection, things that symbolized friendship and connection. I can think of countless examples of her doing these little acts of kindness. It was fun to buy her little gifts. I remember that back in the 80’s she loved the cheap necklaces with goofy wooden parrots my Dad and I brought back from Las Vegas. She liked beauty and she liked looking good. But, you know, with my mom, if it were too ornate or lacked some earthy beauty she might consider it overdone and not wear it.
As a mother and wife Cynthia was the kind heart of our household and the spirit that my Dad and I relied upon the keep the household going. Over the years as my Dad struggled with various health problems she worked hard to make his life more comfortable and accommodate his needs. She liked it when we were all together as a family and did her best to make our house a home. She always had a special brisket in the oven whenever I came home from California. Family was important to her and she made a point of keeping up with many scattered aunts, uncles and cousins throughout her life.
At her core she was very tolerant person, never condescending, and slow to be judgmental of other people’s shortcomings -- and that was especially true especially if she liked you. She had a wide capacity to accept people as friends and over the course of her life I would sometimes meet friends of hers with surprising backgrounds and experiences. She was very good at accepting and forgiving people’s faults, as long as they were essentially good people at their core.
One thing I can tell you for sure is that my mother’s was amazingly tolerant and supportive of me growing up. And its not always easy to be the mother of a boy. She put up with things that many suburban moms would say no way to.
My mother, despite her own preferences, forced herself to pick up and feed my foot long salamander every day one summer when I was at summer camp; for years she tolerated my sick, yet lovable cat Puby despite the fact he had a chronic sinus infection and liked to sneeze all over the upholstery; When I was 20 she quickly forgave me when because of slow postal service in Africa she and my Dad didn’t hear from me, her only son, for two months while I was traveling with a backpack through Kenya and the Sudan (but what can go wrong there?). I could go on but I won’t. Between putting up with me and my father, I really think she qualifies for sainthood.
Her greatest lifelong passion outside her family and friends was her love of art. She was just an extraordinary artist. Her skills were first honed in the late 50’s/ early 60’s when she took classes in Chicago at the Contemporary Art Workshop. Over the years she not only taught art but continued her studies in many wonderful places – Japanese brush painting in Hawaii, landscape painting classes in Arizona and New Mexico. She loved the southwestern landscape and many of her paintings reflect the stones and colors of that place. Significantly, some of her art reflects more of an inner place, mysterious windows looking into hidden spaces, or fantastical landscapes populated with fossils - trilobites, ammonites and other ancient creatures, sometimes acting in curious ways. Her paintings occasionally showcase her sense of humor and playfulness – one of her relatively recent works depicts a multicolored ammonite queen with a cycloptic eye looking all haughty and regal in a beaded necklace. I think to myself, only my Mom would have come up with that truly silly, yet very beautiful image.
While her teaching career spanned more than 20 years, I only went to school with her once or twice while she was teaching -- but I knew that she was a very good teacher. One student, named John Peterson, stayed in touch with her for a number of years, writing her letters about how her literature class had really changed his life. I know other students made contact with her too in a similar vein rom time to time. How many more kids lives did she help inspire who never took the time to write or let her know?
Mom – you are the kindest, most gentle and beautiful soul I have ever known. You’ve had a life where you were able both experience and create great beauty. You’ve deeply touched the lives of others befriending and inspiring many people who respected and loved you. No words can describe my own gratitude that throughout my life you have always my greatest champion and supporter. I doubt if I have ever known a more loving person. Dad and I will both miss you so much, as will all your family and many friends. You made us laugh and you have enriched our lives beyond measure. And you will always live on in our hearts, and in the beautiful art that is your legacy.