Build It, and They Will Come (Eventually)

April 16, 2026 | Third Thursday Thoughts
Dawn LaRochelle, Executive Director

Last week, Nick the Brit and I returned from eight glorious days in Sedona, topped off by a sojourn to the Grand Canyon (bucket list: checked!), an immersive encounter with wolves at the Sedona Wolf Sanctuary (yes, actual wolf kisses), and unlimited sunshine.

We landed back in Portland… and it snowed.

That’s April in Maine for you.

Coming back down to earth after a heavenly vacation is always a bit of a letdown. Coming back down to snow-covered earth when the calendar says it’s spring is low-key depressing. But when we pulled into our driveway, there they were, peeking through the unwelcome white stuff: tiny, purple, star-shaped flowers carpeting our lawn.

Those Chionodoxa, a.k.a. “Glory of the Snow” (spot-on moniker), turned my frown right upside-down. And I gave a silent note of thanks to Cashel, the reason our garden gets compliments, and I get the credit.

The decision to bring Cashel on as our gardener was less about convenience and more about self-awareness. My dad was legendary for his roses, and his sister, my Aunt Maxine, was a certified plant therapy specialist. The green-thumb gene, however, seems to have skipped a generation. Some people enjoy getting their hands in the dirt; others (like yours truly) prefer getting weekly manicures, please and thank you.

But I did inherit Dad and Aunt Maxine’s love of lush gardens bursting with color three seasons a year, if not their talent for making those gardens come alive. So I did the next best thing:

I hired Cashel.

In the four years since we moved to Portland, Cashel has transformed our formerly blah yard into something of a neighborhood showpiece. We work as a team, Cashel and I. I’ll email him a photo of a flower I think would be perfect for the garden, and he’ll reply with what can only be described as a doctoral dissertation, complete with Latin names, soil chemistry, sunlight calculations, and the occasional reminder that plants are living organisms and not decorative accessories.

I usually respond with something like:

“Cool! Can we get it in purple?”

From time to time, though, Cashel slips in something I didn’t request — and with Glory of the Snow, it was point, score, match.

Every year, without fail, those blossoms show up at exactly the moment I need them most, when winter magic has worn off but the crocuses are still in hiding.

And every year, there are more of them.

That, it occurs to me, is how the best things grow: not overnight, not all at once, not with a brass band and confetti cannon, but quietly — steadily — until one day, what once felt tentative looks unmistakable.

Which is very much how this season feels at the Maine Jewish Museum.

Our exhibition There is Always an &  — or, as we fondly refer to it at MJM, Ampersand — is the most obvious example. Ampersand began as the germ of an idea and snowballed into something momentous, thanks to the creative vision of photographer Hedva Rokach, unprecedented community support, and the many Jewish Mainers who trusted us with their stories.

Visitors who come to see the exhibition are not just looking at photographs. They are encountering hundreds of portraits and stories from across our state. They are seeing complexity where others might expect caricature. They are understanding Maine Jews as richly varied and deeply rooted.

They linger.
They talk to one another.
They come back with friends.

That is what flowering looks like in a museum.

And Ampersand is not finished flowering.

The exhibition remains on view through Sunday, May 3, culminating in Numbers, Narratives, and Maine Jewish Life: A Colby Student Poster Session & Community Conversation, featuring Colby students working under the guidance of David M. Freidenreich, our Historian in Residence. These students are using Ampersand to put faces and voices to the findings of the 2024 Maine Jewish Community Study, turning statistics into stories.

I would love to pack the house for this FREE event. Supporting the next generation of Jewish scholars matters, especially in a moment when antisemitism is spiraling and thoughtful engagement is desperately needed. And yes, in case you need an added incentive, word on the street is that a recovering restaurateur and caterer (that would be me) is in charge of the refreshments. In other words, I’ll be cooking and baking, and the eating will be good.

And because more is more… we also have Faces & Facets of Jewish Life in Maine, the companion book to the exhibition. Thanks to generous support from the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine and the Maine Humanities Council, we will soon be placing a copy in every high school across the state, along with curriculum materials to help students explore Maine’s Jewish story in their own classrooms. MJM Board Member Marcel Polak is working to expand that effort to libraries, and I will have the pleasure of delivering the first donated copy to the Baxter Memorial Library in Gorham, where I will lead an Ampersand discussion on Tuesday, May 12 in honor of Jewish Heritage Month (if you are interested in donating a book to a Maine public library, shoot me a line at , and I will hook you up with Marcel).

Ampersand is only one part of the story, however. That same slow, steady growth is visible in other exhibitions taking root this spring.

Case in point: Tamara Krendel’s Light in Shadow has brought a different kind of energy into the galleries. Visitors slow down in front of her work. They pause to reflect. They return to reexamine. Krendel’s upcoming meet-and-greet on Sunday, April 26 offers the chance to hear directly from the artist whose paintings have made the Fineberg Room so vibrant.

Ellen Golden’s Strata makes a similar case for patience. Her intricate pen-and-ink drawings reward careful looking. They remind us that attention itself can be an act of appreciation. The strong press coverage the exhibition has received in the Maine Arts Journal and the Portland Press Herald is no accident. It reflects sustained quality and quiet excellence.

And then there is Shalosh Regalim (Three Pilgrimage Festivals), our pop-up exhibition by Camille Davidson, who was also photographed and interviewed for Ampersand. Her work focuses on transmission — the passing down of stories and traditions from one generation to the next. In many ways, it asks the same question as Ampersand: how do we carry memory forward?

That movement outward is visible beyond our galleries, too.

On Saturday, May 2, Portland Jewish History Trails will be part of Jane’s Walk, an international weekend of community-led walking tours inspired by urbanist Jane Jacobs. Organizations from across the globe participate, and this year our small but mighty Museum will be among them.

Our Jane’s Walk tour, Hidden in Plain Sight: Storefronts, Sidewalks, and Jewish Portland, will be led by historian and MJM Board Member Riva Krut. Being included in Jane’s Walk connects our work to a statewide, national, and international movement that celebrates the stories embedded in everyday places. It also reinforces that Jewish history is an integral part of Maine history — not separate from it, not tucked away in archives, but alive on our streets, in our neighborhoods, and in the shared story of this state.

Looking ahead, next month our programming salutes the remarkable Theodore “Theo” Bikel, who won fame playing Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, performing the role more times than any other actor in history. He was also an activist, a Yiddish preservationist, and a tireless champion of Jewish heritage. His example reminds us that culture survives when people keep sharing it — singing it, teaching it, and passing it on.

In this spirit, on Thursday, May 14, the Museum, in partnership with the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine, will host The Magic of Theodore Bikel, a centennial celebration and final tribute by Theo’s widow, Aimee Ginsburg Bikel. A few days later, on Sunday, May 17, we will gather at the JCA for Theo, Tevye & Tunes, a joyful Yiddish music program with Aimee, the Casco Bay Tummlers, and a breakfast-for-dinner Yiddische yummies extravaganza that I possibly, maybe am catering.

Which brings me back to those tiny, purple, star-shaped flowers.

Cashel planted Glory of the Snow for us four years ago, and now these blooms are staging a slow but determined takeover. One day, I hope and suspect, they will cover the entire lawn.

That’s how the work feels right now at MJM.

You build something carefully, thoughtfully, and intentionally.
You tend it.
You wait for it.

And before you know it, it develops a life of its own.

Warmly,

Dawn LaRochelle
Executive Director