Remembering My Father

I just posted about my father, three years after his death, on Shiloh Musings.
My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 3 Years
You can read about him there.

BTW, in one of those strange quirks of Halacha, Jewish Law, I got up from shiva before he was actually buried.

One Year, May His Memory Be A Blessing

Now our family calendar has a new pre-Passover "event" to remember. Last year just a few days before Passover I got the call from my sister in Arizona that our father had just passed away. In a sense it had been expected, but he had always recovered from illness, injury etcetera, so I really thought that he'd pull it off again.

Sidney Spiegelman, 1920-2016

He had outlived my mother and his siblings and the rest of the aunts and uncles of all my first cousins.

My father was the middle of three children, with an older brother and younger sister. He and his siblings were born in Brooklyn, NY to parents who had emigrated from Nasielsk, Poland, and Rogachev, Belarus. He grew up knowing well his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Both sides of his family, with the exception of two maternal aunts, had left Europe well before World War Two.

My father and his siblings all went to college. My father studied to be an accountant, and since the war had already begun in Europe rushed to finish his degree, so he could be an officer in the Navy. He worked with radar on the ships in the Pacific but didn't like to talk about any war experiences. It wasn't until the year he lived with us here and Shiloh and spent time with a neighbor of his generation and similar background, that we heard stories. They, davka, died just a month apart.

After the war, my parents married and my father began working as an accountant for the NY State Insurance Fund. He would audit businesses and didn't have a desk job. That suited him fine, since he worked quickly and managed the quantity of "cases" in less than than week. In his spare time, he began getting private clients and studying for his CPA exams. His aim was to work for himself.  We lived in Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY, where my younger brother and sister were born, with lots of other young families, at the time.

In the summer of 1962, former neighbors told my parents of a great deal, a small house in Great Neck at a bargain price. They bought it. I was shocked, because I was away in camp at the time and hadn't a clue. Then suddenly, at work my father was to be promoted to a supervisory desk job. This was actually bad news, because he wouldn't have the time and freedom to run his own business. He would have full-time office hours. So, just then, with the expenses of a new home, a couple of years before he had planned and just short of a pension, my father had to leave his government job and really hustle.

He did alright as a CPA, but besides sharing a secretary with another few in a shared office, he didn't form a big company with workers.

I'm not exactly sure when my father sold his practice. After a number of years, as both my parents aged and couldn't take care of themselves, we knew that they'd have to leave their home. Like many, they hated the idea and wouldn't downsize when they were capable of making decisions themselves. Then one time when my mother fell and had to be in rehab for a few weeks, my father ended up with us for almost a year. My mother couldn't take care of herself, certainly not both of them.

Finally, my mother agreed to move to Arizona near my sister, so my sister took care of clearing the house and moving her. My older son and I then took my father to join her. And that's where they spent the rest of their lives together. My sister was nearby, and I visited at least once a year, sometimes more. And my children also visited as much as they could, considering distance and expense.

My mother died almost four years ago, less than three years before my father. They both lived longer than their parents and all siblings.

My children and oldest grandchildren have strong memories of them. And so do my cousins and their children. Basically, that's all we leave in this world, memories.

Planning Another Trip

With my father still alive in Arizona, I'll be going there again in a few weeks.  There were years I didn't travel abroad at all.  But since my parents became too old to travel to Israel I started going there once, now twice a year. My mother passed away early summer, so now it's just my very elderly father who lives near my sister.

This year I'll combine the AZ trip with visiting cousins in Miami.  I've never been to Miami, FL before.  I've always wanted to go, ever since my mother's oldest and younger sisters moved there with their families when I was little. One cousin and his family are still in Florida, and they have always been telling me that I'm invited.  They were in Israel a few years ago, and we had a wonderful time together.  This year I'm taking them up on their offer.

I have my Arizona Shabbat plans set with the people I stayed with last January, and I still have to set up the Miami, Florida end. That's what happens when you're the only strictly Torah observant Shomer Shabbat person in a large Jewish family.  But I'm not worried. G-d willing, it will all work out.  (Invitations appreciated.)

And as for the blog carnivals I coordinate, we have a debut hostess lined up for the Adar Alef Kosher Cooking Carnival,  Food Discovery, and I'm looking for a few volunteers for Havel Havelim.  If you'd like to host, please let me know, thanks.

Amazing Funeral, Great Tribute

cross-posted on Shiloh Musings

great-grandmother

Yesterday was my mother's funeral at the Oakland Jewish Center section of the New Montifiore Cemetery.  It was conducted by a Rabbi  ?Klein and with the participation of Rabbi Dale Polakoff of the Great Neck Synagogue. My many cousins plus some friends and other family members attended.  My brother, sister and I really appreciate it.  I was told that it was considered a large group.  I guess it was, because Rabbi Klein had asked if there would be a minyon of men, and we certainly had that.

The cousins, from both sides (to tell the truth, a stranger would not have been able to tell if they were my father's or mother's nieces and nephews) really enjoyed Rabbi Polakoff's description of my mother as "feisty."  This was a great tribute to their Aunt Shirley whom they obviously adored.

Observing my absolutely wonderful cousins in action together, I have no doubt that they all are a tribute to my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents who produced this wonderful family I am privileged to be one of.
There aren't many families as amazing as mine.

My Cousin Howard opened his home to us for the post-funeral shiva.  He set it up as a proper shiva home, covered the mirrors and had water for ritual hand-washing outside the door.  One is supposed to wash one's hands when leaving a cemetery, but since he knew that we'd be going into the cars straight from the gravesite, he was prepared.  My sister-in-law brought low chairs from her Young Israel of Scarsdale, and my friend Rose made sure there was the traditional "seudat havra'ah" for the mourners to eat.  There was also kosher food for all, since many traveled long distances and we were all mourning.

It was truly a celebration of who and what my mother was and no doubt my mother would have greatly enjoyed the "party."

Afterwards I got back to my sister-in-law's and on old friend from Great Neck came over to "linachem."  His parents had been very generous to me in the years I had needed a place for Shabbat and holiday meals.  We hadn't seen each other for over forty years, but have had occasional email contact.  The Jewish World is amazing.

The day before, on Tuesday, there was a funeral ceremony for my mother in Phoenix Arizona, which my father was able to attend.  My NY daughter was there, too and stayed with my father after my sister and her husband traveled to New York for the burial.  Some of my mother's former caregivers joined the friends my parents had made in a Conservative Scottsdale Synagogue my parents have joined since their move from New York.  Also attending were many friends of my sister, her family and more.

Today the shiva continues at my sister and brother in law's home, then to JFK and my flight home to Shiloh where I will continue sitting until I get up on Tuesday morning, G-d willing.

li'ilu'i nishmata

May her soul be elevated...

Shifra bat Avraham and Chaya Raisia

Shirley Shankman Spiegelman

I'm not good at waiting

I'm in a strange halachik-Jewish Law- status.  According to our LOR*, I can't start the official pre-funeral mourning or onan, because I'm not part of the funeral planning crew for my mother.  That status will start for me once I'm off to the funeral, to which I'm going alone from here.

my parents a few years ago here in Israel

I've never been good at waiting, nor letting other people make my plans, but now I'm in a "just waiting for orders" situation.  Almost everything has fallen on my sister, part of the package she got when she agreed to have our parents move to Arizona, and she is being assisted in New York, where the funeral will be, by my NY daughter and a cousin, who will host the first stage/night of shiva after the burial.

Today our family is spread out all over the world, doing all sorts of things, but we were once your typical New York Jewish family.  Both of my parents were the first generation to be born in America.  They (and I) were born in Brooklyn, New York.  Then we lived in Bayside, NY and after that Great Neck, just over the City Line. 

Now my sister is in Arizona, and I'm in Israel.  Our brother is still on Long Island.  We have cousins and their children much further afield.

Many of the cousins from both sides and some old friends  will be making every effort to be together at my mother's funeral.  That will be a comfort.

*local Orthodox rabbi

The Latest in Home Renovations

Do you see that shiny, new railing?  It was installed just before I brought my father to live with us.

When we built the house twenty-five years ago, the few steps leading to our front door didn't seem like too many.  But in recent years I've had to help neighbors walk up and down them and I'd get nervous about those who insisted that they could make it fine on their own.

Inside our house there aren't any stairs, making it very comfortable and safe for the elderly and crawling babies.

We're not the only people in Shiloh to have added a bannister, so people can have something to hold onto.  Ours isn't very fancy, but it's strong and matches the ones the same workman put up on the main path from the road to the synagogue.  My neighbor's father ordered them when he moved here.

Our Shiloh neighbood is now twenty-eight years old.  The first "temporary" prefabricated structures arrived August, 1981.  We moved into "ours" that September 1.  We have children older than we were then, and now we have to take into consideration the needs of the much more elderly.  Synagogue renovations are wheelchair accessible as well as for baby carriages.

Baruch Hashem, thank G-d, we're a community for all ages.

Another Milestone in My Saga, Taking Care of My Elderly Father

So far, bli eyin haraa (don't tempt the evil eye) my father can do a lot for himself.  One thing he can't do is to change the battery of his hearing aid.  That's because his eyesight isn't all that great nowadays, so he can't see it.

Last week, at my daughter's instructions, we went to "HaOzen," a hearingaid place.  I bit the bullet and told the young guy that I'm taking care of my father, and as he can see my father wears hearingaids, and I haven't a clue how to deal with them.  So, I got a lesson, how to clean and how to change batteries and know when that's necessary.  I bought the necessary supplies, brought them home and...

... I waited until a bolt from the blue would tell me when to use my new skills.  Yesterday it hit!

"It's very strange.  These hearingaids don't seem to be working."

"Hmmm... maybe it's time for me to change the batteries."

I "tested" them and they were dead.  So I got the equipment, and easier than I had ever guessed, changed the batteries, and my father was able to hear better.

All the challenges should be this easy.

When To Buy, As If I Had A Choice

I guess that I'm not the only traveler stuck between advertised bargains and future prices. Will the future prices be better than today's bargains? Not even the New York Times knows for sure.



Last year, our tickets to New York had to be timed to attend a wedding. We knew the date well in advance and got what was considered a good deal.

Now, I've been waiting to make the purchase for quite a while. I have to coordinate the visit with my sister, and she doesn't yet know when she can travel. I missed all the "cheap travel seasons." That's rather ironic, since I had been counting on going when it's cheap, while school's still in session, since I'm no longer teaching. But she still is and has children she must take into account. And I must take into account her life.

If I don't, the trip is a total waste. And the purpose of our going to New York, from our different corners of the earth, is to help our parents. In Jewish lore it's known as כיבוד אב ואם Kibbud Av v'Em, Honoring One's Father and Mother. So, whenever I get the dates from my sister, I'll buy my tickets whatever the cost. And whatever it cost will be whatever I'm supposed to pay.

Shavua Tov u'Mevorach

Have a Good and Blessed Week