Meeting Beba (by Tiffany)

Before meeting Beba Leventhal, I was a bit nervous. I had read a brief biography that had been written about her and was intimidated by the gravity of her story. I knew where she was born, that she had a complicated survival story, and that more importantly, I was given the privilege of meeting with her. I was worried about how to approach the topic, how to approach her because I had never spoken or talked to her before, and I was concerned at how the afternoon would go. When I arrived at her house my nerves were even more on edge.

As soon as she opened the door and greeted me, I knew that I had nothing to be concerned about. She was eagerly awaiting us and had such a comforting presence. She invited me in and insisted that I make myself comfortable, not allowing me to help with anything. We sat together, getting to know each other so that when it came time for her to share with Anush and me her story, it was eased into. I had a lovely time meeting her and am so grateful for the experience. She had a great outlook on life, so joyful and content. She was even so compassionate that she was concerned with our lives, what our plans for the future were, and wanted to know as much of us as we did of her.

(I felt an immediate connection to her when I found out that our birthdays were December 18 and December 19, and that both of us read way too much. It was a small serendipitous discovery, but we both agreed that it was a sign that we were destined to meet.)

One of the funny things she said to us, after learning that we were two independent, academically focused young women, was that she did not see any advice that she could give us that we did not already have taken care of. Without guidance to offer us in the context of our education or aspirations, she laughed and said “Well, may you both find good husbands. You have everything else taken care of.” I was touched by her concern for us as individuals, seeing as she was already so kind as to let us come to her house and interview her. I did not expect her to be not only so giving of herself and her time, but to be genuinely concerned about us. As we left, each with a big hug and kiss, I could not help but think about how I wish that if I am so fortunate to live so strongly and vivaciously into my 80s (fingers crossed, beyond that) as she does, that I hope to be able to do the same.