I walked
nervously into Levindale geriatric center for my first day as a level II Occupational
Therapy student in 1989. At age 36, I was an older student, pregnant with our
fifth child. A young Orthodox Jewish woman introduced herself as Nechy
Zehnwirth, my fieldwork supervisor. More then 10 years younger than I, she
insisted on calling me Mrs. Shamberg. I never felt comfortable with formalities
and insisted on first-name basis. She reluctantly agreed. She considered me an
elder worthy of the respect of formality that she was used to in her observant
Jewish upbringing.
As a baalas teshuva, I grew up totally secular during the hippie era,
and became a Torah-observant Jew in my adulthood. I was allergic to formality.
She agreed to call me Shoshana. That moment began a decades-long friendship of
two women from very different worlds.
My memories of our friendship will
never disappear: Nechy’s deep boisterous laugh, her ability to find good in
challenges, her presence that made everyone feel like her best friend. She
truly cared about her family, friends, and students with a passion few could
ever imagine or match.
We worked together at Levindale for
many months in the supervisor/student relationship, and then, in one day, our
relationship shifted to fellow employee when Levindale offered me a job. We
remained close even when she left Levindale to work for Baltimore City Public
Schools.
When Levindale refused me health
insurance as a 25-hour-a-week part-time employee, I knew I had to seek other
employment with benefits. I needed a part-time job to juggle motherhood and
work. My husband did not have health insurance with his work, and with five
young children and a husband starting his own business, that was not easy.
Nechy insisted I apply to Baltimore
City Schools, which was desperate for OTs and would provide full benefits for
half-time employment. She was right, and we worked together again for another
18 years until I retired. We remained friends, even though we each had little
time for socializing so saw each other rarely.
Nechy and her family moved around
the corner from my house a few years ago, and we caught up on life in passing. We
still had little time to socialize, due to our busy lives. But even if you had
not seen her in a while, the moments you were with Nechy, she made you feel like
you were her best friend and that no time had passed at all. I would joke with
her that her retirement would hopefully come soon so we could finally hang out
and spend quality relaxed time together. She always said, “Soon...”
During our quick encounters, we
shared stories of our lives, family updates, and funny events. She also always
shared her appreciation for the help I gave her when she first became sick with
lupus years ago, by taking care of her children, making meals, and babysitting
for her baby son. I admired her courage and her desire to do whatever it took
to be there for her family, even if cure was not a goal. She would always make
sure to sustain her energy enough to give to others. Nechy was the most giving
person I have ever known, like a bottomless wellspring.
It was so easy to love her and to
respect her because she modeled how to be an eishes chayil, the
inspiration that drew me to live a Torah life 40 years ago. Here was a young
woman, about 10 years younger than I was, who had achieved that at a very young
age, maybe in the merit of a wonderful family and mother and father, an awesome
husband who supported her and loved her, and kids who turned out to be such
special people, too. Never focusing on the challenges, she always focused on
the blessings.
Thank you, Nechy, for being in my
life. Your memory will be with me forever: laughter, bright sparkly eyes,
radiant smile, and special greetings. I saw you a few weeks before your sudden
passing, driving with your mother. You stopped, and we had one of those special
encounters. I feel blessed to have had that moment yet sad that our hopes to
spend more time “soon” at retirement will now never materialize.
Nechy, along with
everything else, you taught me to make each precious moment count because only Hashem
knows when we will be gone.
Mrs. Shamberg is offering free OT phone
consultations and Zoom screenings in memory of Nechy Zehnwirth, a”h, for children, parents, and adults who
suspect they may have sensory processing disorders with ADD/HD, anxieties,
depression, computer stress syndrome, light sensitivity, visual distortions,
dysgraphia, or dyslexia. Please contact her at shoshana@aotss.com.
