In Remembrance

Myril Adler Obituary
September 22,1920 - November 10, 2015

Myril Adler of Briarcliff Manor, our "famous unknown artist" and beloved art teacher, died November 10 in her home at the age of 95.

Born September 22, 1920 in Vitebsk, Russia (now Belarus), Myril immigrated with her parents to the United States at age 3.  An artist from birth, Myril, also known as Milly and Mildred (the name mistakenly given her at Ellis Island), fought not to be graduated from high school in Brooklyn before age 15, after having been skipped four times, so she could stay for one more year as a budding artist, and winning all art awards.  Despite her father's opposition, she went to the Art Students League and the 92nd St. Y., developing her own style, which she evolved through many media in her 80+ year career as an artist.

She married Jack Adler on October 18, 1941 and their romance and adventure went on for 54 years until his death in 1995.  Myril was always the adventurous one and, with her urging, Jack became a Japanese translator in WWII, giving them a year in Boulder, Colorado, where Myril taught art to the Japanese children in the internment camps.  In 1948, with their one year old son David, they went off to Europe, where they spent four years.  While Jack worked with Joint Distribution Committee, the organization for WWII displaced persons, and later was Chief Social Worker of a sanatorium in Merano Italy, Myril pursued her art, with exhibitions in Paris and elsewhere. They returned to New York City in 1952 and then to Hawthorne, NY where Jack was Chief Social Worker for Hawthorne Cedar Knolls School and Myril continued to paint and began to teach again.

The family moved to Briarcliff Manor in January, 1955, shortly after the birth of their daughter, Sharon.  For the next 53 years, hundreds of children and adults passed through the doors of the Myril Adler Art Studio to learn from this unique teacher about art and life.  While always identified as an artist, it is as a teacher that her genius shined.  Myril expanded her repertoire to include graphic arts in 1959, attending Pratt Institute, bringing artists of all kinds for weekends in Briarcliff.  She developed techniques that were cutting edge and the family house gradually shrank in living space to accommodate four studios.  Her restless passion continually pushed Jack beyond his comfort zone and they traveled the world to places both common and exotic: throughout Europe, India, Kashmir, Iran, Egypt, China, and Japan.  Each time Myril brought home new artistic inspirations and new pedagogical approaches, as well as new friendships scattered across the globe.  Myril grew to be well-known throughout Westchester for the numerous solo and group art exhibits in which her work was displayed.

In addition to the many artists she nurtured over the years, Myril is survived by her son David and his wife Jill of Newton, MA, her daughter, Sharon, of Mohegan Lake, NY, three grandchildren, Jonathan, Eliza and Sarah, as well as four great-grandchildren, Miles, Zoe, Morgan and Mila.  In the future there will be a memorial service to celebrate her life and the generations of people she touched.

Myril Adler: A Remembrance 1920-2015

Thank you all for joining us today as we celebrate in remembrance, our Myril.  Her prolonged dying process has given us all a chance to say our goodbyes.  Mom's death cannot be viewed as a tragedy for she lived a rich and long life.  Everyone who encountered Mom experienced her larger than life persona.  To say the least Mom was no shy retiring flower.  She expressed herself in all dimensions and leaves us with her body of art work and individual memories. For some of you Mom and Dad's house was a home away from home where you could come and be yourself, talk over your whatevers and receive nourishment and guidance in your artistic and other pursuits.

She married Jack on October 18, 1941 and their romance and adventure went on for 54 years until his death in 1995.  She was the spark to his reticence, the adventurer to his cautiousness, the giver of tictacs to strangers. They were like hand and glove for 53 years, something to aspire towards. She had an indomitable, unquenchable spirit that carried her and those around her with her. Perhaps it is best to begin with one of my father's favorite words: remarkable.  Yes Milly, Myril, Mildred, Minooka was a remarkable human being.  Her not atypical immigrant tale took a genetically sturdy and gifted child and allowed her to experience all of life as a series of never-ending adventures which I ask your forbearance in brief review:

The beginning: Arriving to America "in steerage" as did so many immigrants at age 3 to Ellis Island Mom remembers being given her American name: Mildred.  From the bitter lessons of learning English through being unable to ask how to go to the bathroom and peeing in her pants to fighting being graduated from High School in Brooklyn at age 15 after having been skipped four times, to stay one more year as a budding artist winning all art awards, Mom was unstoppable and indefatigable.  Her father Sam dominated the family with his love and his benevolent dictatorship.  Her constricted mother Sarah never understood her daughter or how to handle this wild stallion.

Young adulthood: Disappointment and redemption.  At age 15 ½ in 1936 Mom went to work as a legal assistant for lawyers, some savory and some not.  She spoke with pride of working for Abe Sachar long before Brandeis University was a glimmer in his eye.  Despite her father's opposition she went to the Art Students league and the 92 St. Y. developing her own style.  There she met Moy Solotaroff who was her first mentor and introduced her into the world of socialism and romanticized communism. A brief encounter with a shy man named Jack Adler went nowhere and Mom moved in heady avant-garde directions with her theatre/artist crowd for five years.  At the ripe old age of 20 a chance re-encounter in the Catskills found a persistent and ardent Jack Adler who would not take no for an answer.  While at City College he would travel to and from Brooklyn to date Mom and make sure she was home as dictated.  When they married in 1941 she knew Jack would have to go to war.  As is the style of their entire relationship she insisted he be interviewed to become a Japanese translator (limited to applicants who were Phi Beta Kappa!) and so began the first of many Milly-induced adventures.  Becoming a Japanese translator gave dad a reprieve.  Off to Boulder, Colorado for a year of learning Japanese while Mom gave art lessons to the Nisei in the local Japanese internment camp.  During WWII Milly and Jack wrote everyday in a series of hundreds of letters preserved that Mom refused to let go of despite the repeated requests from a library that is compiling the experiences of the few American Japanese translators. If nothing else life teaches us that "way leads to way," often with surprising outcomes.

Ages 27-36.  Back from the war, living with Jack's mother while he completed his MSW, then to Washington Heights and shortly after I was born, another adventure.  Dad had always felt guilty about the 26 member of his family who had died in Poland in WWII so Mom pushed him to do something.  And so off to Paris with a one year old to work with the displaced persons.  Arrival the day the Iron current fell so no Poland and instead a 3 ½ year adventure in Paris and Merano where Dad worked and Mom had a burst of creativity of her art.  Postwar adventures abounded with Mom always in the lead. Being unable to admit their need to return home the lore is it is I who made the decision. After a brief return to NYC, we moved to the grounds of Hawthorne Cedar Knolls School, a series of miscarriages, the death of my brother Jonathan 10 days after birth and Sharon's birth.  During these years Mom taught art to the emotionally disturbed children and adolescents while Dad was Chief Social worker determining the career paths of both their children.

Ages 36-74 – the Briarcliff Years.  Whether we could afford it or not Mom was determined we would buy a house and live in a town with a good school system, even if the number of Jews and Democrats could be counted on one hand.  It is here that most of you here today know Milly.  From 1956-2008 hundreds of children and many of you passed through the doors of the Myril Adler Art Studio to learn from this unique teacher about art and life.  While always identified as an artist, it is as a teacher that her genius shown.  Always restless Mom embarked on a new career as a graphic artist the moment she thought Sharon and I were old enough and for years while Dad had 3 jobs and worked on his Doctorate, Mom tromped into NYC to Pratt Graphic and brought home with her people and artists of all kinds, techniques that were cutting edge and a house that grew in studios to four and shrank in living space.  Mom's restless passion continually pushed Jack beyond his comfort zone and they traveled the world to places both commonly traveled and to where one can no longer go: Europe, India, Kashmir, the Middle East, China, and Japan.  And each time Myril returned there was new art and new ideas for teaching.  And each summer from 1954-1994, time was spent on the Outer Cape for rest, relaxation and art that has become a tradition of her children. Even with Dad's prostate cancer diagnosis they went about their adventures including Mom's accompanying Dad through the dying process.

Ages 74-88.  In the many years since Dad's death and Mom's assumption of his anxiety load 266 Dalmeny Road became as she would say "her warren and her country".  Traveling little except to NYC Mom had the world come to her as she has today with all of us gathered to send her off back into the cosmos.

Denouement: Ages 88-95. Her last two trips as herself were to celebrate the wedding of Jon and Jonathan on the Cape and to the annual Thanksgiving gathering of our small family.  As always Mom was a force of nature entertaining, offering tic-tac's to everyone and offering her work to those far and wide. But then the inevitable happened with two hip fractures, likely small strokes and the slow loss of her personality into dementia.  This woman who never expected to live past 30 and was a sure bet to end her life should she ever need to be dependent, showed her "remarkable" resilience again in adapting to full time care in her own home.  Even as a shell of who she was, Milly was repetitively grateful to end her days in "my own home, my country."  With only a present, for a long time she was able to take joy in the small, the sunlight on the window, a book, a poem, a picture or painting that brought her back to the long and full life she had at least for a moment. Uncomplaining and with grace and dignity she faded into the night several times reminding us that she was about to embark on a new adventure, a long journey as at last among the last of her generation she joins the legions who have gone before her.

For me Mom's death concretizes my own relationship to the continuity of life. At 68 I am an orphan with no parent between me and the great unknown.  Her dying process has been another of those life events that has affirmed for me, my own desire to be connected to those I love, to pursue those things that really matter to me, to try and disencumber myself from the smallness one can become swept up in.  Mom, you have helped me to achieve this and much more.  You are a part of me, of us.  Still I will miss you deeply. I Love You. Farewell Mom.

Your loving son,

David

A Poem by an unknown author read at Jack's Funeral (Jack Adler, Milly's Husband):

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there.  I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow;

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain;

I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there; I did not die.