Presence

Happy Birthday Uncle George

My Uncle George turned either 99 or 100 today (he claims he was born in 1908; we have documentation that says 1909, but it's from the 1930's and could be incorrect). The local paper up in Rutland, MA wrote an article about him entitled 100 is the new 80, and has a great photo of him (click through for a larger version). In a previous article, they wrote more about his various business ventures, including the world famous George Gershman's Health Drink.

So Happy Together

From this week's Jewish Times, an article about parents and children working together features our very own Mostly Simchas:

The pastel pink, blue, purple, green and orange walls of Mostly Simchas exude warmth rarely seen in a gift shop. Its photo albums, picture frames, bulletin boards, magnets and notepads are funky, whimsical and fun.

Sales have skyrocketed in the last couple of years, and it’s not just because of the products, say mother-daughter team Tova Taragin and Yehudit Shields. It’s because of the owners.

We're very proud.

Hanukkah for the Little People

Came across this today on Amazon: Fisher Price Little People Hanukkah Set.

If you're not Jewish, don't feel left out; you can always pick up the Little People: A Christmas Story:

Dutch Wonderland Tickets For Sale

We've got some extra tickets for Dutch Wonderland for sale. We got rained out yesterday after only a few hours of fun. Tickets are normally $28.95, we're selling these for $20 a piece, and if buy four or more, their $18.75 a piece (that's four for $75). The passes are good for ages 3-59, for any day of the 2007 season (which is over October 7, 2007, check schedule for exact dates). We've got around 12 tickets, first come, first serve, so get them while they are hot.

Contact me at greggersh AT yahoo DOT com, or leave a comment below with an email address I can reply to.

This was my first trip to Dutch Wonderland, I was very impressed. It's perfect for kids between the ages of 2 and 10.

UPDATE: The tickets are all sold. Thanks!

That's My Boy!

A quick anecdote from Hershey Park; we're standing on line for our second run on the Tilt-A-Whirl (we is me, my two older kids, niece and nephew), and the kids are really excited. And by excited, I mean they are swinging and climbing on the railings to the point where I'm concerned that one of them will fall and get hurt. So I say, "Guys, stop climbing on the railings. Can't you just stand still?"

To which my son, Ezra, age 7, replies, in his very matter-of-fact and top-of-his-lungs voice: "Dad, we evolved from monkeys, so we love to climb!"

Now my immiediate concern was not, ironically, ascertaining where he had learned this (I'm assuming he read about it in a book), but if the Chassidishe family standing in line behind us had heard. Then again, I'm sure their opinion of the guy wearing shorts on Chol HaMoed was made up before his kid starting spouting off about evolution.

Papa

I gave the following eulogy at my grandfather's funeral today:

I don't think any of us expected to be here; while death is tragic at any age, there is a certain sense of solace when a loved one lives out there days in health and happiness and passes away surrounded by family and friends. In Papa's case, although he lived a long life with his family, in good health, I still feel as if he was taken before his time. When my father told me Papa had died, I could not believe it; for the next few hours I expected a call saying it was all a big mistake. How could it be true? Just two weeks ago, Papa had taken me to see his gallery and workshop, told me about how he had arranged to use the space after helping a local contractor on a project. He told me about a new commission he was working on, and his plans for a new sculpture he would be starting, just as soon as some 5-inch pipe came in. If you were to describe Papa's daily routine to someone who didn't know him, and ask them to guess his age, I'm certain they'd be off by at least 30 years, possibly more. Papa was so full of life, of creativity; he was in constant motion. I still find it hard, even standing here, to accept that he is gone.

Whenever we would visit, I'd make sure to leave a little extra room in the suitcase; Papa would have given me the shirt off his back if I'd asked for it (or even if I'd just said it was a nice shirt). Whether it was a piece of his artwork or a new gadget he'd picked up (on sale at the Job Lot), Papa would always offer to ship one out to me. He wanted to make sure we had everything we needed, and if there was a way he could help, just try and say no.

To be Papa's grandson was to know that, no matter where you were, Papa was thinking of you and was proud of you. When we were in California a few weeks ago, at one point Peninah took the kids back to the hotel for a nap, and I stayed at Aunt Cherie's with Papa, to help him get his photo printer working. We talked for a while about the Jewish Home, about my business and about the kids; Papa said he hoped he could be there for Ezra's bar mitzvah, and I didn't even question it. As we were leaving, and I went to give Papa a hug, he began to say something to me; I thought he was going to say how nice it was to see everyone, and thanks for coming out; instead he said, “So, when are we going to see you people again?” I had thought that schlepping my whole family across the country would at least buy me till we got home before the inquiries resumed, but, alas, I was wrong. But that was Papa; he was so proud and had so much love for his family, his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, he couldn't help but ask when we'd see each other again.

My grandfather's Hebrew name is Eliyahu. I'd like to read to you a passage from II Kings, chapter 2. The prophet Eliyahu is walking with his student and successor, Elisha:

11 And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, which parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.

12 And Elisha saw it, and he cried: 'My father, my father!'...And he saw him no more; and he took hold of his own clothes, and rent them in two pieces.

13 He took up also the mantle of Elijah that fell from him, and went back, and stood by the bank of the Jordan.

Our tradition tells us that Eliyahu did not die, but waits in heaven for the coming of the Messiah. Like his namesake, our father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, was taken from us in a whirlwind, in a flash, in the very midst of his life. Although it's hard to imagine a world without Papa, perhaps this was for the best; for Papa lives on, in our hearts and in our minds, as he always was; so full of life, and so full of pride and love for his family.

Edward Gershman (Papa) - 1918-2006

The Family Plot

I had the occasion to visit the cemetery where my great grandparents are buried. I had never been there before, and may never be there again, so I took some photos of their headstones with my cameraphone.

This is my great grandmother, Jennie (nee Gederman) Gershman.

This is my great grandfather, Isadore Meyer Gershman, whom I am named after. Although his middle name is not inscribed here, we have always called him Yitzchak Meyer. Also, Gershman is here spelled in Yiddish; I have always spelled it without the ayin and the alpeh.

I was in Rhode Island for my greant aunt Ruth's funeral; she died last Shabbos at the age of 95. She was buried with her husband on the other side of the same cemetery. After the burial, I went with my father, grandfather and great uncle George (98 years old) to visit the rest of the family. It was the first time I said El Maleh for anyone. I also took a picture of my father's mother's mother's headstone as well, but forgot to save the photo.

Once more into the breach...

A little earlier than expected, but welcome nonetheless:

Mother and baby are doing fine.

Update: It's a girl, by the way. We're calling her Eden Yael.

Whose House? Peninah's House.

Go to Google. Type in 'peninah'. Hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button.

Voila.

I always said she was #1.

The Essence of Ed

My father read the following on behalf of the family at my grandfather's funeral on Sunday, November 9. The immiediate family provided input, it was compiled by my Aunt Mary.

Mom, Larry, Jenn and Doug, other family, and friends. On behalf of my father-in-law, Ed Chesler and his family we thank you all for being here today. Dad would also want to thank all his family, caregivers, and friends that helped him over the past few years get more out of life than he ever thought possible and for being here today. A special thanks also for the Linders for helping with today. Most of all, he would want to give a special hug of love and devotion to his beloved Louise.

THE ESSENCE OF ED

Yisroel Zvi ben Yoel, Edward Hirsh Chesler, was a son, a brother, a pharmacist, a brother-in-law, a pharmacist’s mate in the Coast Guard, a husband, a dad, an uncle, a father-in-law, a Zaydah and, most of all, a dear friend to many. The world needs more Ed Cheslers. His integrity, compassion and humor made him a man people were proud to know. There are givers and takers in the world, and Ed Chesler, the boy from Cleveland, was a giver. He will be greatly missed and remembered by all of us here and by many that could not be with us today.

Jenn and I were married in this beautiful Temple; in fact we were the first ones to be married in the new sanctuary. This past September, we were back here in the Temple for Ed’s last Rosh Hashanah. His faith, being part of the Jewish community, was very important to him. Even though he was in a wheelchair, he wanted to attend services. So many members of the congregation came up to him to say hello and wish him well this past Rosh Hashanah. The look of respect on the faces of the well wishers was a testimony to Ed’s character.

Cleveland
Eddie, his hometown nickname, was born on January 24, 1917 in Cleveland, Ohio. The son of Yale and Rose Chesler, he grew up in a three-story, two-family house with relatives all around. Cleveland was full of Cheslers back then, and they were a close-knit family. Eddie’s father, Yale, left a shtettel in the Russian Empire to avoid the draft. He taught his children about devotion to family and the importance of faith. In fact, Eddie considered becoming a rabbi and almost went to Yeshiva.

You can take the boy out of Cleveland, but you can’t take Cleveland out of the boy, and Eddie was very proud of his roots. When asked where he was from, he would always reply, “Cleveland, Ostend Avenue.” He was a lifelong fan of the Cleveland Indians, which is almost as frustrating as being a Red Sox fan. As kids growing up in the 1930s, Eddie and his brothers – Bernie, Marvin and Sanford – learned their strong work ethic selling hot dogs and cokes for pennies in the summer at Municipal Stadium.

Love Story
If Ed’s life were a tapestry, there would be one shining, golden thread woven into the whole. And that thread is Louise. Theirs is a love story that spanned 60 years, beginning in 1942 when Louise, a recent graduate of Ohio State University, attended a USO dance in New London. Her girlfriends had to convince her to go – dating sailors was something nice girls didn’t do. But after surveying the guys in the room, Louise spotted Ed. She thought he was really cute in his Coast Guard uniform – not as cute in street clothes, but definitely cute in a uniform. They dated all that summer. When Ed went to officer training school at Avery Point in Groton, they couldn’t see each other for a month, but they talked for hours on the phone – Louise sequestered in the phone booth at her family’s home on 85 Thames Street in New London.

The couple was married on February 10, 1943 in Ft. Lauderdale when Ed had a 48-hour furlough. Their parents and Louise’s sister, Esther, were in attendance at the only synagogue there for the wedding. They honeymooned in Ft. Lauderdale, just Ed, Louise, and Louise’s new mother-in-law Rosie – who stayed behind for two weeks after her family went back to Cleveland. While stationed in Ft. Lauderdale, Ed did entrance patrol and rode a white horse up and down the beach, looking for German landings.

Louise became pregnant and gave birth to twin sons Ronnie and Larry while Ed was in Charleston, South Carolina at the Citadel for training. At a baseball game there reality hit Big Ed. He turned to the gentleman next to him and said, proudly, “I’m the father of twins.” The man, obviously more interested in the game than the beaming, young father, replied, “So?” A daughter, Jennifer, followed the boys five years later, and a fourth child, Doug, was born in 1954.

Throughout their 60-year marriage, Ed and Louise remained the best of friends. Each night, when they retired, they would talk over their day with each other. They always took their meals together and made a point to take several trips alone, leaving the children with family. I wonder how many loving “Yes Dears” Ed said to Louise over all those years.

The Best and Worst of Times
Ed was uniquely blessed to live such a long life surrounded by loving family and friends. He saw the best that life has to offer, but he also suffered terrible loss. When the twins were just seven years old, Ronnie was struck with polio and died. In the face of such loss, Ed found strength and healing in his faith and the Jewish community.

Family Man
From his old-world and Yiddish-kite parents, Ed learned the importance of family. He was an active father who pitched in to cook, shop, clean and take care of his children when Louise returned to school to earn her master’s in teaching. By his example, Ed taught his children respect and integrity. Jenn remembers learning to dance by standing on her father’s feet as a child. When his son Doug pitched at a Little League game, Ed was so nervous, he could hardly watch. Though he could be rigid in his beliefs, he earned the respect of his children, grandchildren, and daughters-in law and son-in-law too.

Ed was a doting Zaydah, and made it a priority to be a positive part in the lives of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Zaydah relished conversing with Greg and Benj in Hebrew and especially enjoyed those long Seders in West Virginia.
He never expected to live as long as he did. He called his youngest grandson, Aaron, his “bonus,” and although he did not live to see Aaron’s Bar Mitzvah, he was overjoyed to hear him practicing to read the blessings from the Torah. (Though he did have to check and make sure that Aaron was actually reading, and not just memorizing, the text.)

Business Man
The boy from Cleveland made a place for himself in his new Connecticut home. As co-owner and pharmacist at Bridge Plaza Drug Company, Ed became part of the community and fabric of Groton, earning the esteem of his customers, employees, and colleagues. He also was an integral part of his synagogue, serving as president of Congregation Beth El in the ‘60s. Dad also liked to listen to and sing Jewish music and was a member of Temple choirs for many years both here and in Florida.

Ed was a man of integrity; he knew right from wrong. As his son Larry says, “He had a sense of justice and decorum, and people respected him for that.” Though Ed worked long hours, seven days a week at the pharmacy, he never complained. He cared about his customers and his employees, as they cared about him. Family often bump into former Pharmacy colleagues and customers who recognize the Chesler name and want to pass along a warm greeting to their friend Ed Chesler.

Ed was not a showy person – never overwhelmed by material goods or the importance of possessions. However, he was a dapper man. He could give lessons on the proper way to combine plaids, polyesters and paten leather; and did so starting in the 70s, … and the 80s, … and the 90s. He was true to his value system and was never persuaded by what was popular or ostentatious. Ed knew the difference between right and wrong, and his steadfast adherence to his values earned him the admiration of his family and community members.

Ches had a dry and subtle sense of humor that reminded me of the way Bob Hope would deliver his short to the point punch lines that bent you over in laughter. He was known to tell salesmen calling on him at Bridge Plaza, “Can’t talk to you right now -- too busy; come back when you can...have a nice summer!”

In the last couple years, Ed relished stories about his great-grandson, Ezra. Every day, when Jenn would call to say hello, Zaydah would ask “Tell me an Ezra story!” When Big Ed died this Thursday, his great-grandson Ezra took the news with maturity uncharacteristic of a 4-year-old. After crying, Ezra said, “I sure am going to miss Zaydah.”

Ed Chesler enjoyed his family and friends and touched many people’s lives with his wit, charm, sense of humor, and friendship. We all are going to miss Ed, Eddie, Big Ed, Ches, and Zaydah.

Edward Hirsh Chesler (Zaydeh) - 1917-2003

Don't believe a word she says

It's all lies.

It's Gershman, not Gershwin!

More fun Googling Gershman's:

• A search for my father's name returns more hits than for either me or my brother. More proof that Google doesn't accurately correspond to the real world, as Benj is certainly the most famous Gershman ever.
• A Google search for gershman has my father's company as #2, while Blogdigger is listed #6, even though the word "Gershman" appears no where on the Blogdigger homepage. I suspect this might have something to do with the domain registration.
• Presence wasn't listed in the first ten pages. Yet. ;)
• My mother, grandfather and Uncle George were not in the top ten, although they are all out there somewhere. Papa can be found on page 13, though. And I promise to buy one of whatever Uncle George sells to the first person who can find out what it is and post it, along with its advertising slogan, in the comments.
• Peninah Gershman has one single reference in all of the web. Actually, now she has two ;)
• Until now, Ezra Gershman and Gila Gershman were unaccounted for.