A Poignant Celebration

“There was a lot of warmth in that room,” Gary said to me as we left a celebration in honor of his uncle Sol’s 100^th birthday. I readily agreed.

It was an interesting gathering. If one reaches that auspicious age, it is almost certain that you have outlived your spouse (possibly spouses), siblings and most, if not all, friends. This is true of Sol. So it can be bittersweet to plan a party.  Who do you invite? Sol’s son, Ben, faced this question.

Sol is a Holocaust survivor, like Gary’s parents. I have written a great deal about Gary’s parents, David and Paula and their remarkable story. I don’t know the details of Sol’s experience. Sol married David’s sister, Batya, in America. The two couples were part of a tight knit survivor community. There were about five or six families that socialized regularly, centered in Rosedale, Queens. Their children grew up together.

Gary told me stories about those years – how the mixture of family and friends would gather at his house most weekends – the kids playing various games while the adults chatted (and maybe argued, especially about politics). How they went to the Pennsylvania Dutch country with the Majewskis, who lived down the block, and how the Majewskis had all the coolest toys – they often hung out at their house. As often happens with college and adulthood, the kids went their separate ways, maintaining only occasional contact.

I didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at the party. I wondered who would be there. Ben and Rochelle, Sol’s step-daughter, set up displays of photographs of Sol that captured his life over the many years. We studied the pictures, looking at the young faces. When we sat down at a large rectangular table that sat the 25 guests, Ben welcomed everyone and explained that when he thought about who his father would want to share this momentous milestone with, he thought of that core group of survivors. Since the original members have passed on, Ben reached out to the second generation to gather to celebrate Sol, the one who remains. They all represented the heart of Sol’s life.

Sol lives in Florida. When we go to visit Gary’s Mom, we see Sol as well. Until about a year ago, he was in remarkable shape. It is only these last months that there are signs of his age, his short-term memory is starting to fail, and his strength is waning. When Ben extended the invitation to us, after briefly discussing it, we realized it was a milestone that should be recognized so we would both attend. After all, as several observed at the party, it was an opportunity to gather for a happy occasion, not a funeral which is more often the impetus for second and third generation survivors to gather.

I do not know the details of Sol’s journey, I don’t believe he participated in Steven Spielberg’s Shoah project, so there is no testimony to watch, as I have watched my in-laws’ videos. Based on the research our niece Laura did as part of writing her book, The Shoemaker’s Son, I do know that Sol suffered horribly. One of the factors that made his situation even more challenging is that his family was poor to begin with. The Nazis did not differentiate between rich Jews and poor Jews, but having some resources to bribe or trade could buy time when one was on the run, hiding in the woods. Sol bears the scars of his painful experiences. I believe he and his brother were the sole survivors from his family. Once he got to America, he had a successful business as a glazier, but the memories of deprivation were never far from his thoughts. His tightness with money is legendary in the family.

Several of the attendees made remarks, sharing memories of Sol, honoring his tenacity, and his love of family and friends. Jokes were told. Some of the speakers managed a great imitation of Sol’s accent – an echo of their own parents’ accents of blessed memory.

Sol sat at the head of the table. He enjoyed himself. He made his own remarks: he thanked everyone for coming and expressed his love for all. He told us that this was likely his last birthday. Everyone pooh-poohed that and Ben pointed out that he has been saying that for the last 40 years, so he took that as a good sign. Of course, no one knows what tomorrow will bring for any of us.

Gary was moved to be in the presence of that group – the familiar sounds of the voices of the past, the warmth of the connections, the strength of the bond that links them – even if they haven’t kept in close touch. Not only were they honoring Sol, but they were acknowledging the legacy of the survivors who were no longer physically present – though they are kept alive in their collective memory. Despite the fact that I don’t share their history, I was happy to be part of the poignant celebration.