As a child I used to chide him when he didn’t shave for a family dinner. As an adult I always remember him clean shaven and dressed up in a suit at every party with his full head of white hair combed and a twinkle in his eye when someone said how nice he looked.

As a child I remember him as the physically strong one and my grandmother as the emotionally strong one. When grandma died, he had to be strong in both ways and he carried on his life even thought the loss of her was a great for him.

Grandpa’s energy was always of a man half his age. He worked as a tailor long after officially retiring and he willingly took charge of the family’s cleaning and sewing problems.

His energy around cooking and shopping continued even when his cooking facilities were rarely more than a hotplate. He would travel for miles on several busses to find onions at five cents a pound. One of his greatest joys was finally finding a market with small, straight, hard cucumbers to make pickles with. He would cater parties for organizations and the family, taking great delight in telling everyone how many kreplah he had made. It was always close to a hundred. He then took equal delight in telling you how many kreplah some member of the family had consumed in a single sitting. Grandpa loved to cook and even more he loved that people enjoyed what he made.

Grandpa also took delight in giving to his great grandchildren. Even after his money earning years were over, he usually came up with money to give them at his birthday parties or for their 13th birthday or for weddings. One of his final wishes was that each great grandchild get a last gift.

He was proud of the fact that he always earned his own way and didn’t have to depend on anyone financially. He had a sharp mind for money matters and he never seemed limited by the fact that he couldn’t read.

I never found grandpa a demanding person. Whether I called or visited once a week or cone a month he was always glad to hear from me and he never said or implied that he thought I should or visit more often. If he was disappointed that all his great grandchildren weren’t bar mitzvahed, I never heard him say so. One time, though, I heard that I was in disfavor. It was after his 90th birthday party at our house. He had discovered that a previous birthday picture was not hung on the wall and he was upset. This upset me, for it felt to me that this was the only thing he had come away from the event with. When I told him this, he was taken aback with my frankness. Then he told me, close to tears, that he just wanted to be remembered. I told him that I didn’t need a picture to remember him, after all grandma wasn't in that picture and I remember her, as I was sure he did.

When grandma was alive, the family gathered around her – both our family and her family. She was a favorite aunt to numerous nieces and nephews and kept track of them all. Grandpa never had that kind of family connections in this country. So, after grandma’s death, he was alone and lonely. His children and grandchildren became the focus of his life. He strived to live from one family gathering to the next. He lived to see the birth of his 11th and 12th great grandchildren and the marriage of the first and second. Unfortunately, he also lived to see the death of his youngest son. All this he faced alone, calling on an inner strength – the same strength that must have given him the courage to leave his home in Poland, alone, at the age of 17, without any money, to a country where he had no family and couldn’t speak the language. Because of this courage, 19 of us are here today. For this courage and more, grandpa, I will always remember you.