My grandmother, Eleanor Levine

For those that weren't able to attend, here is the eulogy I delivered yesterday in honor of my grandmother, Eleanor Levine.

My grandfather said when he died that no one should cry and that we should throw a party with a lot of vodka and a lot of whiskey.  My grandmother made no such request.

I will start with some thank you’s.  Thank you to Abigail for being with my grandmother for the last six months.  Thank you to my mother and my uncle for always putting their parents first and thank you to my sister Linzy who was with my grandmother at the very end.  And thank you all for coming today to say goodbye to my grandmother…my Mommom, Eleanor Levine.  You may recall the last eulogy I gave and remember that it was funny and contained a few four-letter words.  Well, my grandmother wasn’t nearly as funny as my grandfather, but she cursed right along with him, so you’ve been warned.

As I thought over the last few days about what I wanted to say, which stories I wanted to tell, I was really taken aback by all of the things my grandmother taught me.  Forty years is a long time to have a grandparent, so I am truly a lucky man, and the luckiest of her grandchildren.

Growing up, we lived around the corner, and the way I remember it, I spent as much time in her house as I did in mine.  My grandmother was known to say that I was the child my mother had for her, much to my mother’s chagrin, and we had a very special relationship.  Mommom was shortened to Mom…and then to Ma, the same name my uncle called her, but without his varying levels of frustration.

We traveled together, to Florida, to California and Las Vegas (the infamous trip I almost didn’t make it back from at the age of four), and to Israel twice.  The first trip to Israel was just the two of us when I was ten years old.

Now they say behind every great man is a great woman. I thought my grandfather was pretty great, but the only reason he was able to be who he was in our family was because of my grandmother. She tolerated his shortcomings and was the driving force behind many family gatherings.  Pop could draw a crowd, but he wasn’t the one buying all of the presents at Hanukah or making sure he had a stack of $10 or $20 bills to pass out for the Afikomen at Passover.  She made him look good when it would have been very easy to do otherwise at times.   She drove him everywhere, she left when he was ready, and she would only complain a little.  Had she decided to point out his shortcomings rather than tolerate them, our family dynamic would have been much different.  She never got enough credit in that regard and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention it today.

My grandparents had a challenging marriage at times, but as they got older, or maybe as my grandfather mellowed, it improved.  That said, they had 50 years in the bank of communicating by yelling and cursing at each other. Even when they were playing, it sometimes didn’t appear that way.  So probably over 10 years ago, I am in their apartment for my regular Monday night dinner, and they are having an argument about who’s lost their mind more.  After a few one-liners back and forth, my grandfather goes for the kill shot and says, “You can’t even tell me how much money is in your pocketbook within $500.”  My grandmother thought for a second, trying to calculate, and responded, “Fuck you Leo.”  It was one of my favorite moments and I have so many.

She was a pretty tough lady, even at the end.  My mother would bring my six-year old daughter to visit her and they would play War.  My grandmother would call me afterwards and say that they had a very nice visit, but tell me Avery cheats at cards.  And she was legitimately pissed.

As long as I can remember, in every house that she lived in, my grandmother had a chair that was hers.  When I was little, I used to sit with her in her chair and watch TV.  She wouldn’t move, even back then, with people bringing her whatever she needed or wanted.  She would hold court at my mother’s house, sitting down when she arrived, and never moving until my grandfather decided it was time to go.

Some of the lessons she taught me:

-       She taught me how to negotiate.  Given that it’s what I currently do for a living, and I am told I am pretty good at it, and with all due respect to my father, my grandmother taught me how to negotiate, first in the Beduin markets and jewelry stores of Jerusalem when I was 10 and later when I worked at The WindMill when she’d simply cross off late fees on any bill and pay the initial amount.

-       Also on that trip our trip to Israel, I learned that you could go anywhere you want as long as you act like you belonged.  We were told that we shouldn’t go to Hebron as it was a city with a large Arab presence.  But I wanted to see the tomb of our forefathers.  So this ten year old boy and his grandmother, take a tour and within 15 minutes of being there, the locals/the Arabs are waiting on her hand and foot, had gotten her to chair to sit while I toured, brought her water, and made her feel completely at home.

-       She taught me to give to charity.  Not only the ones that I like, but every one.  When I worked at The WindMill, she told me that everyone that asked her for money got something.  Whether it was just $25, it was something.

-       She taught me how to play blackjack.  We used to go to Atlantic City together and she would give me $100 to play and we would sit at a $10 blackjack table.  If I won, I got to keep the money and if I lost, she covered it.  The funny times were when my grandfather would come.  He would wander around, lose some money, come over and steal her chips, wander some more, come back, steal more.  She always seemed to have a bigger stack than him.

-       She taught me how to steal Sweet & Lo from restaurants.  I didn’t say they were all good lessons.

-       When I was younger, she always made sure I had at least $20 on me in case of emergency.  She called it tuck money.  You had to tuck in your wallet in a secret spot and pretend it wasn’t there until you really needed it. 

-       She taught me, and I am sure, countless others how to make coffee.  She wasn’t interested in me actually having the skill, but rather she wanted me to make HER coffee, which I could do by the time I was about six years old.  My father would go out and get bagels on a Sunday morning and then walk me across the street since I wasn’t old enough to cross the street myself. Can you imagine, a kid isn’t old enough to cross the street, but he’s old enough to make coffee? Anyway, I would let myself in the house, make her coffee and a bagel, and deliver it to her bed. 

For a lot of my 20’s, I would have dinner with my grandparents every Monday when they were in New Jersey.  My grandmother played cards on Monday, so after she ate, she would go downstairs to play cards while my grandfather and I talked.  As she was leaving, she’d always say “You’ll bring me my coffee when you leave.”  “Please” wasn’t much of a priority for her and it certainly wasn’t a question, but it was my pleasure to do so in every way.  To this day, I am not sure which was more important, the coffee or showing me off to her friends.

When my grandfather died, each of the grandchildren who spoke all mentioned that he used to call people fat, or comment on their weight.  I haven’t talked to my siblings or cousins, but if I had to guess, everyone that speaks today will talk about my grandmother’s shopping.

She bought some of the oddest, weirdest things…and she would buy one for everyone and insist that we need it.  She couldn’t pass up a good sale.  She’d say, “I saved $100,” and I’d say, “But you spent $300.”  She didn’t see it that way.  But knowing my grandmother the way I do, and did, it wasn’t about shopping.  She wanted nothing more than to be loved, appreciated and needed.

She was an amazingly giving grandmother and adopted anyone that would let her or needed her.  She promised her sister that she would take care of Evan and Mandy and she did.

She knitted yarmulkes for weddings when she was allowed, not always to the best result, but she spent countless hours doing so.  She made taluses for grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and if I had to guess, there’s a bunch somewhere for great-grandchildren, including any that may not be born yet.  

I think in some ways, our relationship changed when, in her mind, she couldn’t buy me anything.  Looking back, it really defined her in a lot of ways.  She struggled with those that didn’t need her. My grandfather was amazingly proud of my success in business, but for my grandmother, I took away her ability to take care of me.  I never loved her any less and I hope she knew that.

My grandmother also couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.  She would say to me, “Son, I am only telling you because I tell you everything…” and then I would hear the same thing from my sister or I’d mention it to my mother and she’d say, “I can’t believe she told you”.  She spread news faster than the Internet at times, even before there was an Internet.  But again, she did it because she wanted us to love her.

She also kept lists…she always kept lists and we would joke among the grandchildren who was at the top and who was at the bottom.

There wasn’t an ailment, sickness or disease you could mention to her that she didn’t have at some point in her life.  It was especially funny when it was a male-only condition.

And while she was definitely a pain in the ass the last few years, so many people who knew her have no idea.  I heard from cousins who only remember being at her house for Hanukah with a million toys.  I heard from Denis Winton from Endico and Mark Rosen from Sabrett, both key WindMill partners whose kids got gifts often from her because she loved to give and it was important for her to be their favorite customer.

My mother and I are involved in a fundraising effort this summer on behalf of The FoodBank of Monmouth and Ocean Counties, which is only possible due to the generosity of Mark and Nikki Rosen from Sabrett.  I have a feeling without my grandmother being who she was, I might have been able to convince them to partner with us on this project, but it would have been a hell of a lot harder.  Mark’s response was simple.  Whatever you want, whatever your family wants…we support you.  While we were working hard on this project already, my efforts will now be dedicated to her memory.

Her life certainly wasn’t always easy.  She buried her younger sister, her husband and a daughter.  Yet through it all, all she really wanted was to be loved and appreciated…and maybe waited on.

So…to my Pop…if you’re listening.  Turn OFF your hearing aid and get the coffee ready.  I am convinced that she died early in the morning so she could show up, and immediately ask him to start waiting on her.

And to everyone here, again, thank you for coming. If you want to honor my grandmother, I ask that you do a few things.  First, tuck $20 in your in a secret place in your wallet and use it in case of emergency.  Give a few bucks to a charity that you normally wouldn’t.  And finally, buy something ridiculous, maybe something on TV and definitely something on sale, and give it to someone else for no reason.  I guarantee you that it will feel good.  Think about my grandmother when you do, her amazingly generous spirit, everyone’s Mommom.