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.