Adrienne Martha Najarian Rabkin was born February 25, 1929 and died November 22, 2022. In addition to possessing charm and intelligence, she led a great life, laughed heartily, and had a terrific smile.
On November 29, 2022, my dad hosted an event in her memory at Lasell Village. Click here for a video of remarks made at the event and a gallery of photos.
Here are my remarks from the event:
David’s reflections on ANR, 11/29/2022
I woke up this morning realizing that there was far more to say about my mom than I had captured in the remarks drafted yesterday. So this morning I rewrote them.
And in the time-honored tradition established by my dad, let me open by saying: “My remarks will be brief. If I may have the first slide…”
Actually, I already have the first slide, or rather the first several hundred. They’re on that picture frame (being projected) right there Those pictures say so much, that I need to touch on only a few points now.
I’ll start with my mom’s emotional intelligence. When you were with her, she was present, and you knew it. Julia mentioned that friends enjoyed talking with her. Mine felt the same way, and they realized it wasn’t just schmoozing. She listened. She had insight about what was behind the words. She would ask the difficult questions that only a wise and caring person could ask.
She was generous, tolerant and kind. But in the words of one friend, “She was no fool, either.” She had a critical mind and was quite prepared to offer criticism. But it always came either from love, practicality, or the high value she placed on excellence.
Let’s start with love: My mom was astonishingly emotionally and psychologically well-balanced.
And yet, she sometimes used her emotional intelligence to manipulate Julia and me. I’m going to let you in on the dirtiest trick she ever used… the most effective, emotionally wrenching, heart-stoppingly awful thing she – or anybody else – has ever said to anyone on planet Earth.
There was this time when Julia was being particularly awful and Mommy used The Powerful Words on her. She also used them with me, twice actually, and frankly, it’s a miracle that I’m still among the living.
Just thinking about these words makes me tremble. In reflecting on them last night in an email, Julia wrote, “I still burn with shame…”
So, would you like to know what my kind, caring, and wise mother could possibly have said that to this day, a half-century later, still has such a powerful grip on us?
Or should Julia and I bury this dangerous knowledge forever?
What is the will of the group? You realize that once I utter them, there is no turning back?
Okay, here goes: In a moment of extreme anger, of lashing out at her children, my mother said, and I quote: Why. Must. You. Be. So… Unpleasant?
Devastatingly effective. Words from a wise one. Let’s accept them as a lasting gift. If we could all ask ourselves that question more often, and learn to use such well-chosen words when we are angry, the world would be a far better place.
In the interest of time, I’m going to skip the topic of her practicality. If you want to hear the story I’m skipping about chocolate mint brownies, catch me after the show.
Before I end, I do need to touch on the theme of excellence.
My mom was a gifted needleworker, musician, knitter, and cook. But beyond that, she brought an appreciation of craftsmanship – how difficult things are accomplished – and a critical yet appreciative eye, to every field she encountered.
Let’s take management. She was an excellent partner for my dad. When he was hired as Beth Israel’s president, the hospital got a package deal. She shared her insights with him throughout his years of learning and leadership. Many people are aware of his impact, but it would be interesting to ask him to assess her impact on him and on the hospital.
As someone who loves working with my hands and learning new skills, I also benefited from her interest and insight. We could discuss my emerging interests at a very deep level. Our discussions included things like:
- the fine points of woodworking – for example why I prefer to cut certain things by hand when a power saw would be quicker and more accurate,
- the challenges faced as I reengineered the spectacular mojito from a bar in LA – mint AND spearmint, plus the stems, a bit of grapefruit, two kinds of rum
- and the details of finishing the boat that Josh and I built right down to the different techniques needed to sand plywood, epoxy and varnish.
I think what drove it all was her love of life. It drove her curiosity and it drove her attention to detail, whether she was focused on craft or on people.
And I think that’s perhaps the most important lesson she offers. She loved – meaning she was curious and caring enough to look, listen, and think deeply about – the world and other people.
To honor her, I propose that we commit to doing the same.