Featuring Milly
Milly has lived a life shaped by observations gathered over decades about people, justice, and the ways we choose to move through the world. Her story is one of attention, and of a steady commitment to noticing what matters.
That commitment to noticing has consequences. “All of these people are my brothers and sisters,” she said. “That’s what makes it so hard.” Living through the present moment feels heavy for her, not because injustice is new, but because it is all too familiar. She has been paying attention for most of her life. “I’m 86 years old and still swimming in the swamp,” she said. “It’s hard.”
That awareness began early. At eight years old, Milly was taken to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore for treatment related to hearing loss caused by childhood illness. Even then, she noticed what others might have learned to ignore. “I saw the signs on the restrooms and the drinking fountains that said, ‘white only,’” she recalled with a shaky voice and tears in her eyes. “And I just said, that’s not fair.” She did not say it aloud at the time, but the moment stayed with her. “I have been ‘othered’ because of my disability and when I saw that other people were not being treated fairly, it mattered.”
Milly went on to study science and law, earning a doctorate in biochemistry and a law degree, and clerking in federal court. She speaks of her family’s immigrant roots with both pride and clarity. “All four of my grandparents were immigrants,” she said. “On my father’s side from Lithuania, on my mother’s side from what is now Ukraine.” Their success did not distance her from the struggles of others; it deepened her sense of responsibility.
Movement has also shaped her life, not as competition, but as connection. She bicycled through Southeast Ohio and parts of Appalachia, stopping to talk with people in their yards and forming friendships that have lasted decades. “I still have friends that I made by stopping in their yards and talking to them.” Over time, those rides broadened her perspective. “My interest expanded from racial justice to economic justice,” she explained.
Family, for Milly, has never been limited by blood or structure. “I just go through the world collecting people.” She speaks of children, grandchildren, former spouses, in-laws, and friends with the same care and affection. “When I say I find joy in family, it’s both the immediate family and the very extended family.” That way of living came naturally. “It wasn’t something that somebody taught me,” she said. “It was how I felt.”
Judaism lives in her not as doctrine, but as ethical grounding. “The high point is always Mi Shebeirach,” she shared. “Help me find the courage, not the strength, but the courage, to make my life a blessing.” That line continues to guide her. She gives generously to causes rooted in justice, immigration support, and local care, seeking ways to show acceptance to people across her community.
Milly names her imperfections, impatience, and regrets honestly. She accepts loss. She adapts. When bicycling became unsafe, she delighted in hiking at the Scioto River and learned to row. When crowds became challenging, she found other ways to show up. “I’m able. I’m blessed with the full use of my mind and body at this age.”
Her life, like a carob tree, has grown slowly and deliberately. The seeds she has planted through courage, attention, and care continue to nourish others. She moves through the world the same way she once moved through Southeast Ohio on her bicycle: paying attention and stopping when something matters, willing to linger. Milly has always understood that change happens in small, human moments. She may not sit in the shade of all she has planted, but the fruit is already there.
** the name of this person has been changed to keep their identity anonymous
Milly was interviewed on January 8, 2026 by Rabbi Rick Kellner and Hannah Karr
Written by Hannah Karr
Director of Marketing & Community Engagement
Congregation Beth Tikvah