Many years ago, my former partner, Sasha, and my kids, Anya and Melia, and Dara and I drove to New York city from Champaign. It was summer and boiling hot. Dara and Sasha, both veteran drivers, took turns at the wheel and I stayed in the back between the kids. Dara turned to face the backseat and she said.. ‘I met someone, ballroom dancing…’ As she described Itai, her voice took on an excited tone, colorful, and full of mystery and hope.
We arrived in Montclair, New Jersey, at her parents’ home quite late. The children were sleeping and we carried them upstairs and into bed. In the morning, my younger daughter, Melia had already risen and was downstairs in the kitchen: she had made a new friend—Dara’s father, Clifford, who she instantly re-named “Puddles.”
One of my favorite things about Dara is that the name, Puddles, stuck. No one ever asked Melia why she named Clifford thusly. Henceforth, as Dara’s father came up in conversation—which he did, often—Dara was a devoted daughter and was extremely worried when Puddles was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer—whenever he came up, he was always Puddles. And Karen, Dara’s mom, was mamita.
Several years after that excited hitch in her voice, Anya, Melia and I found ourselves at the Lyric Opera House in Chicago for the beautiful wedding of Dara and Itai. Dara looked stunning in her formal white dress and the wedding remains an enduring memory of pure joy: we all explored the opera house, visiting the boxes, shook off our heels and ran up and down the stairs for the sheer pleasure of it—we danced, of course, one of Dara’s favorite things.
Years later—Dara and I have been friends and colleagues for twenty years or more—my husband Philip and I had a dance party to celebrate our marriage and, in her typical extremely generous and profoundly thoughtful way, Dara had made a playlist specifically for us—a fun and perfect dance list which we all enjoyed shaking our booties to immensely.
Dara could not have been more generous as a colleague, too. This past spring, she volunteered to be present and help troubleshoot any zoom issues that might arise during the Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies, annual graduate conference. She spent the whole day helping out virtually. Dara was director of Jewish Studies—an immensely stressful, time-consuming job. It’s almost inconceivable that anyone in that position could give an entire day—from 8am until 5pm to a colleague. Her generosity was boundless.
Dara ran the Program in Jewish Culture & Society flawlessly and through many challenges: she had no permanent staff multiple times as the office manager position seems to be a kaleidoscope of different people. During those times she took on not only her job, but theirs. She beautifully worked with the Provost’s office, the Chancellor’s office, and the Office of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion to bring Mahmoud Darwish and Yossi Klein Halevi to campus for dialogue. She often thought outside the box and came up with brilliant solutions to complex problems.
The last time I saw her, Monday May 2, 2022, she offered a moving and generous introduction to a talk I gave about Philip Roth. She was full of energy and life that day and, as always, had gone well beyond the call of duty to make sure everything went smoothly.
Since word of this profound tragedy has spread numerous friends and colleagues have reached out to me via text, phone call, email, facebook, to share their grief, their sense of confusion and unreality, their utter shock and mourning. Dara was a lifeblood in this community and may her memory, as I know it will, be always for a blessing.
Many years ago, my former partner, Sasha, and my kids, Anya and Melia, and Dara and I drove to New York city from Champaign. It was summer and boiling hot. Dara and Sasha, both veteran drivers, took turns at the wheel and I stayed in the back between the kids. Dara turned to face the backseat and she said.. ‘I met someone, ballroom dancing…’ As she described Itai, her voice took on an excited tone, colorful, and full of mystery and hope.
We arrived in Montclair, New Jersey, at her parents’ home quite late. The children were sleeping and we carried them upstairs and into bed. In the morning, my younger daughter, Melia had already risen and was downstairs in the kitchen: she had made a new friend—Dara’s father, Clifford, who she instantly re-named “Puddles.”
One of my favorite things about Dara is that the name, Puddles, stuck. No one ever asked Melia why she named Clifford thusly. Henceforth, as Dara’s father came up in conversation—which he did, often—Dara was a devoted daughter and was extremely worried when Puddles was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer—whenever he came up, he was always Puddles. And Karen, Dara’s mom, was mamita.
Several years after that excited hitch in her voice, Anya, Melia and I found ourselves at the Lyric Opera House in Chicago for the beautiful wedding of Dara and Itai. Dara looked stunning in her formal white dress and the wedding remains an enduring memory of pure joy: we all explored the opera house, visiting the boxes, shook off our heels and ran up and down the stairs for the sheer pleasure of it—we danced, of course, one of Dara’s favorite things.
Years later—Dara and I have been friends and colleagues for twenty years or more—my husband Philip and I had a dance party to celebrate our marriage and, in her typical extremely generous and profoundly thoughtful way, Dara had made a playlist specifically for us—a fun and perfect dance list which we all enjoyed shaking our booties to immensely.
Dara could not have been more generous as a colleague, too. This past spring, she volunteered to be present and help troubleshoot any zoom issues that might arise during the Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies, annual graduate conference. She spent the whole day helping out virtually. Dara was director of Jewish Studies—an immensely stressful, time-consuming job. It’s almost inconceivable that anyone in that position could give an entire day—from 8am until 5pm to a colleague. Her generosity was boundless.
Dara ran the Program in Jewish Culture & Society flawlessly and through many challenges: she had no permanent staff multiple times as the office manager position seems to be a kaleidoscope of different people. During those times she took on not only her job, but theirs. She beautifully worked with the Provost’s office, the Chancellor’s office, and the Office of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion to bring Mahmoud Darwish and Yossi Klein Halevi to campus for dialogue. She often thought outside the box and came up with brilliant solutions to complex problems.
The last time I saw her, Monday May 2, 2022, she offered a moving and generous introduction to a talk I gave about Philip Roth. She was full of energy and life that day and, as always, had gone well beyond the call of duty to make sure everything went smoothly.
Since word of this profound tragedy has spread numerous friends and colleagues have reached out to me via text, phone call, email, facebook, to share their grief, their sense of confusion and unreality, their utter shock and mourning. Dara was a lifeblood in this community and may her memory, as I know it will, be always for a blessing.
