Stand straight, stand tall," my grandfather told me. And I do.
I was filled with doubts and worries until my grandfather told me to stand tall.
It was no wonder I wasn't looking forward to entering ninth grade. High school is well known for being a battleground, where everyone seems to be going through awkward1) physical changes, emotional mood swings, and low self-esteem2). For me, height was my trouble.
I had always felt insecure and out of place3) as one of the taller members of my class in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, standing a head above the other girls and stooping4) at the back of the line to avoid sticking out5).
I especially hated being around large groups of people, like during the social hour after services at my synagogue6). Once the prayers were finished, I would leave as quickly as possible so I could avoid another well-meaning congregant7) squealing, "Ruthie! Look how tall you're getting!" Ugh.
My grandfather would watch me grow increasingly uncomfortable, but he didn't laugh at my self-consciousness or try to console8) me. Instead, he would admonish9) me.
"Stand straight and tall," he'd say, as I unsuccessfully tried to shrink myself.
And each time, I would sheepishly10) comply11). Even at age 15, I understood that his advice was about more than just feet and inches.
My grandfather grew up in war-torn Europe. When German soldiers occupied his hometown, the beautiful and thriving city of Tarnow, Poland, he defied12) them and eventually wound up joining the Soviet army to fight for his country's freedom. "Stand straight, stand tall," meant something else back then.
I trusted my grandfather more than anyone else in my childhood. And whenever I was afraid of something, he would tell me stories of his life.
I was filled with doubts and worries until my grandfather told me to stand tall.
It was no wonder I wasn't looking forward to entering ninth grade. High school is well known for being a battleground, where everyone seems to be going through awkward1) physical changes, emotional mood swings, and low self-esteem2). For me, height was my trouble.
I had always felt insecure and out of place3) as one of the taller members of my class in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, standing a head above the other girls and stooping4) at the back of the line to avoid sticking out5).
I especially hated being around large groups of people, like during the social hour after services at my synagogue6). Once the prayers were finished, I would leave as quickly as possible so I could avoid another well-meaning congregant7) squealing, "Ruthie! Look how tall you're getting!" Ugh.
My grandfather would watch me grow increasingly uncomfortable, but he didn't laugh at my self-consciousness or try to console8) me. Instead, he would admonish9) me.
"Stand straight and tall," he'd say, as I unsuccessfully tried to shrink myself.
And each time, I would sheepishly10) comply11). Even at age 15, I understood that his advice was about more than just feet and inches.
My grandfather grew up in war-torn Europe. When German soldiers occupied his hometown, the beautiful and thriving city of Tarnow, Poland, he defied12) them and eventually wound up joining the Soviet army to fight for his country's freedom. "Stand straight, stand tall," meant something else back then.
I trusted my grandfather more than anyone else in my childhood. And whenever I was afraid of something, he would tell me stories of his life.
