Norma Shifrin
Tributes from colleagues, students, friends, and relatives (in progress--please send all contributions to: Moti.Nissani@wayne.edu): Click one of the following to read obituaries written by: I. Moti Nissani II. Claire Levine III. Jewish News
I. I first met Norma in 1987, when I joined the Department of Interdisciplinary Studies. Staying in a hotel was out of the question for us in those days, so my wife Donna, our dog (the late Clover), and I were planning to follow my usual routine when coming to a new place--pitching a tent in some nearby campground, teaching, and looking for a roof to put over our heads. The situation was actually bleaker, for I must have been the fifth choice for the position, was notified at the last moment, and had a week to close my affairs in Reno and make it to Detroit. I was happy enough to have a job, and was used to the nomadic life, but the whole move scared the daylights out of my wife, Donna. Well, we didn't count on the Shifrins, who, as we arrived, and though they knew nothing about us or of the straits we were in, opened their home to us, 80-lbs dog and all. Not only that, but on the very evening of our arrival, Norma chaperoned me to my first class and actually taught it for me--I myself had no idea what I was supposed to teach.
Norma and Eddie sensed from the start that we were strangers in a strange city, that I was at home everywhere and nowhere, that our closest friends and relatives were scattered around the globe, and so they always invited us to share their holidays with them. They set for us a model of hospitality, kindness, and caring that had profoundly touched us. The fact that we wouldn't have celebrated these holidays on our own made no difference. We were friends and alone, so their holidays were our holidays.
Ever since then, Norma had been one of my closest and dearest friends. We worked together in the same departmental division of five for many years, collaborated closely on a variety of curricular projects (see for instance one fun exercise we developed), shared committee work, team-taught, and socialized often. And yet, during all those years, I have never seen her, even once, act selfishly, dishonorably, or unkindly. She always rejoiced in a job well-done, always put the common good above her own needs, was always willing to give anyone a hand, learn new ways of doing things, listen--really listen--to new ideas, no matter how odd they sounded at first. She knew what quality was, and rarely made the common academic error of mistaking form, or self-marketing, for substance.
It must have been so very hard for her, the long years of caring for a dying husband, and yet she bore the strain with class and dignity. She had her fair share of tragedies, her more than fair share perhaps of disappointments and regrets, but she always, up to the very last time we saw her, bore them well, always retained her curiosity, her love of teaching, her seriousness about life and the things that really mattered. She knew that evil was rampant, but she never succumbed to cynicism. She must have been skeptical about the afterworld, yet felt that life was worth living. I don't know if she was afraid of dying and how her last months were. We saw her last just before we left for a year in China and Burma, just when the merciless cancer cells were beginning to gather inside her head. She told us then that she might not be around when we came back, and, to my regret, I didn't reply--I couldn't just then face the idea of living in South-East Michigan without her. Well, she was right as usual. We did receive a few e-mails from her, while living in Hubei Province. But then they stopped, and a short time later came a letter telling us that Norma's journey was over.
I have been almost everywhere, it seems, came in close association with Christians and Buddhists, Jews and Muslims, reformers and reactionaries, teachers and students, soldiers and pacifists, Gringos and Cubans, yet Norma had definitely been one of the very few along my road who came close to my ideal of compassion and rationality. There is, in Hassidic tradition, the myth of the 36 just people. They are anonymous people, who, by virtue of their impeccably selfless and righteous conduct, safeguard the existence and well-being of the rest of us headless chickens. The inventors of that myth must have had people like Norma in mind (well, to be historically accurate, men like Norma in mind), when they first told it.
And there is of course that one final myth to think about. If when we die we do go somewhere, and if indeed someone out there gives us fair grades, I have no doubt that Norma's gets an A+ for her 77-year-long course in living. Likewise, if places are assigned, Norma's is at the mountaintop. That's where I'll be looking for her, when my time comes.--Moti Nissani
REFLECTIONS ON NORMA SHIFRIN
by
CLAIRE LEVINE
NORMA died on January 29, 2003 at the age of 77.
In the last weeks of Norma’s life, she was confined to her house. She did not complain, but would assure me “It’s O.K. I don’t feel deprived.” She did not ask “Why me?” but said, “It is not too bad to have lived to be 77.”
I took this to mean she felt she had done her best all through her life. She had given unselfishly to family, friends, community, causes and had developed herself to the fullest. To my way of thinking, if there are such things as Jewish saints, Norma would be among them.
Norma and I traveled to a number of remote areas and though we were often moved beyond words to describe our adventures, we still encouraged each other to give form to our feelings, thereby fixing our experiences into words.
Our trip to the Galapagos Islands in February 1996 was “a sacred mission” for us both. She wrote the following poem on one of the last days of our voyage. It somehow expresses the scope of her mind:
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Norma (R) and Claire (L) at the Galapagos, 1997
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Who could imagine that day’s serene blue canopy Would splinter into an infinite arrays of sparklers That mirror themselves in the blackness of the seas?
Who could imagine that surging currents Would converge here to set the stage For an unfolding evolutionary drama?
Who could imagine that bleak lava beds Would spawn the nourishment to propel Growth and transformation of errant life forms?
Who could imagine that these distant islands Would create the sacred affirmation of life By revealing the primordial roots of all beings? |
In one of the last of our never-ending conversations Norma spoke about her struggle with identity--as a woman, mother, wife, Jew, scientist, teacher, activist, and member of a community. She took every role seriously and continued to challenge her mind and become informed throughout her life. She summed up her efforts in this way: “I just wanted to be an authentic person!”
And that is what she was.
And she did it all with LOVE.
Along the Amazon River, Peru, 1998
III. Published Obituaries: The Jewish News
Norma Shifrin was a lifelong learner, a wise woman to many, who was admired for her quietly passionate embrace of ideas and ideals, nature and humankind.
A respected Wayne State University professor and, in 1966, the first woman to earn a Ph.D. in biology from WSU, she earned her degree for the “thrill of learning, not the title.” She jokingly told her children she’d “swat” them if they ever called her “Doctor,” said her son, Paul Shifrin.
Mrs. Shifrin, 77, died of cancer on Jan. 29, 2003, at her home in Southfield.
An emotional highlight of her funeral service saw her many friends — social activists, Yiddishists, professional colleagues, folk dancers, neighbors and others — joining the family in singing or humming her favorite Yiddish folk song, “Rozhinkes mit Mandlen” (“Raisins and Almonds”). With Paul playing flute, it was a heimish (warm) moment befitting her memory. Granddaughter Mira joined her father playing flute at the service.
Born in Staten Island, N.Y., Mrs. Shifrin was a graduate of Brooklyn College and Columbia University. Her Polish-born parents, Helen and Abraham Louis Eisenberg, were Orthodox, but the young scientist found a more fulfilling path in secular Jewish, social activist pursuits.
She shared this life with Edwin Shifrin, a welding engineer for Detroit Edison. They were cousins by marriage who met at a family reunion here and married a year later in 1948. Daughter Wendy Shifrin said her mother almost single-handedly took care of Ed until his death from a Parkinson’s-related ailment in 1994.
The Shifrins founded a new “young people’s branch” of Workmen’s Circle in 1955 and stayed loyal members. Family friend Stan Ovshinsky said Mrs. Shifrin brought a “purity of purpose” to the organization and demonstrated “leadership by example.”
Workmen's Circle Michigan District Director Ellen Bates-Brackett said, “We learned from Norma the many ways we can support our community, from creating holiday ceremonies to helping in the office, donating and raising money, serving on the school board and the [governing] District Committee, singing in the chorus and actively welcoming a new generation of leaders and activists.”
One of them, Charles Lorber, said, “Norma was always the voice of reason, able to take different points of view and find the common ground that most everyone could rally around.” When writing remarks, District Chair Arlene Frank relied on her for finding the correct Yiddish words to say.
The Shifrins participated in the intellectually stimulating Shabbos Study Group and Sholem Aleichem Institute. They attended Detroit Symphony concerts and filled their home with music.
In the 1960s, Mrs. Shifrin was laboratory assistant to Dr. Laurence Levine at WSU. Working mothers were uncommon then. “She was a feminist before people knew the word,” said Wendy.
Professor Emeritus Cliff Maier hired Mrs. Shifrin for the faculty of Monteith College, predecessor to Wayne State's Department of Interdisciplinary Studies. Maier noted her “passion for people — she was very student-oriented.”
Mrs. Shifrin loved nature. Once, Paul said, she uncharacteristically shouted, “Ed! Stop the car!” in the middle of the road in a national park so she might glimpse her first brightly-feathered scarlet tanager.
Other pleasures included traveling with Wendy and doting on her grandchildren. Each bar or bat mitzvah received a hand-knit afghan from “Bubbe.” Grandson Jonah Shifrin gratefully recalled her discussing the Torah’s teachings on righteousness — “one of the first times anyone talked to me like an adult.”
Her son Paul said his mother “self-appointed” herself to help others, “fearing no one else would step in otherwise.” Even her simplest acts of kindness were not forgotten, he said.
Bates-Brackett of Workmen’s Circle stated, “Our job is to carry on her legacy.”
Mrs. Shifrin is survived by her daughters and son-in-law, Wendy Shifrin and Steven Moritz of Massachusetts, Laura Shifrin of Southfield and friend Jenny Baldwin; son and daughter-in-law, Paul and Sari Shifrin of Ann Arbor; grandchildren, Jonah, Rachel, Kayla and Mira Shifrin.