The Spring of 2015
Title
The Spring of 2015
Identifier
THE_SPRING_OF_2015
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"It is spring. The snow is melting. People are coming out of hibernation. And my mailbox is filled with invitations."
Date
2015-04-17
Coverage
2015
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Text
THE SPRING OF 2015
It is spring. The snow is melting. People are coming out of hibernation. And my mailbox is filled with invitations. I am delighted, and I plan to attend every function to which I have been invited, no matter where it is. This weekend, one is in Melville Long Island, and the other is in Peabody Massachusetts. (I remember a woman telling me, with some exasperation, that her husband treats every meeting notice he receives as if it was a court summons). Next month, I will be going to the semi-annual get-together of my oldest friends, in Tyringham Massachusetts, and then to Washington DC in response to another invitation. My son Lewis, told me that I really did not have to go. Are you kidding? As long as I am able to go, I am going.
By an interesting coincidence, the events in Peabody and Washington are both 90th birthday celebrations. I suspect, some years ago, a big fuss would be made when someone reached 75, but no longer. When I look around, the average age seems to be in the mid-eighties. Perhaps it is because I am 87, and these are the people I hang around with. Of course, there is another group of younger people with whom I am involved. Some are the parents of our son David’s Schechter classmates. Since I was 54 when David was born, they are much younger. In addition, I continue to be active and involved with my two favorite organizations—the Jewish Labor Committee and the Workmen’s Circle—and my colleagues there are also much younger. There was a moment when I wondered whether I was looked upon as an elder statesman or a has-been. I don’t think about it any more. I just go to the meetings and say whatever I want, and don’t worry. I play the role of the resident historian, providing continuity—a link to the past.
There was a time, more than 60 years ago, when my mailbox was filled with invitations—to weddings. Everybody I knew was getting married. It started in 1949, and continued for more than a decade. Then came the birth announcements. In some cases, they were followed by invitations to brisses and baby namings, then to Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, and then to weddings. The next generation arrived and took over.
We were getting older, our children were grown, we celebrated the birth of grandchildren, we celebrated retirements, we celebrated birthdays and anniversaries that had a big number that ended in five or zero. But it was not all fun and parties. There was illness and there was loss. Visits to hospitals and nursing homes, and funerals and cemeteries. Mourning and tears. Our circle was getting smaller.
That is why I am so pleased to be going this weekend to the 90th birthday party for Arthur Bernstein, the brother of Julius Bernstein, who I first met in 1956 when I went to work for the JLC. Arthur was (and still is) a delight. A seaman who, after World War II, signed up to bring survivors of the Holocaust to Palestine. Whenever I see him, he tells me, ”I’ve got the world by the balls.” Hang on, Arthur.
And that is why I look forward to going to Washington for the 90th birthday bash for Dan Jordan, who I first met in 1950 when we were together in the ILGWU Training Institute. I liked the guy from the start. We thought alike, beyond our commitment to labor. He had a great collection of Benny Goodman records, and he also read PM. Dan organized in Pennsylvania, left the ILGWU for law school, went to work for the Textile Workers Union, and we kept in touch. Once, when he came to DC, we introduced him to Ruth Stack. They both were divorced, and we felt they were a natural. They married, and I want to take credit.
But the high point of the coming weekend is the marriage of Rachel Beth Epstein to Adam Jacob Cooperstock. This will be the first marriage we are attending of a friend’s GRANDCHILD. (My oldest grandchild is 14. I don’t think Miles will be getting married any time soon.) So off we go to Melville Long Island. We won’t be able to do much dancing, the music will be too loud, there will be too much food, and there will be lots of people whom we do not know, and who will be a lot younger than us, but we will have a fantastic time, and we will all be “shepping nakhas” (getting joy, only more so.)
There is another Yiddish expression: “nur simkhes” (only celebrations, happy occasions). It is said when people get together, realizing that we will certainly see each other on sad occasions. Let us hope that our future meetings will be joyous. So far, so good.
There is still ANOTHER Yiddish expression: “biz a hundert tsvantsig” (you should live to 120). I have modified that, wishing my elderly friends on their birthdays, “zayt gezint un shtark, biz a hundert.” (be well and strong, until 100). For most of my healthy friends, it is achievable. As I observed at the beginning, it is spring. Hope springs eternal. Fran just received a clean bill of health from her oncology team, and we will be celebrating her 80th birthday in November. In two and a half years, look forward to receiving an invitation to my 90th birthday. And over the next decade, I look forward to receiving invitations to several 100th birthday celebrations. And to several more grandchildren’s weddings. Mazel Tov, everybody!
4-17-15
It is spring. The snow is melting. People are coming out of hibernation. And my mailbox is filled with invitations. I am delighted, and I plan to attend every function to which I have been invited, no matter where it is. This weekend, one is in Melville Long Island, and the other is in Peabody Massachusetts. (I remember a woman telling me, with some exasperation, that her husband treats every meeting notice he receives as if it was a court summons). Next month, I will be going to the semi-annual get-together of my oldest friends, in Tyringham Massachusetts, and then to Washington DC in response to another invitation. My son Lewis, told me that I really did not have to go. Are you kidding? As long as I am able to go, I am going.
By an interesting coincidence, the events in Peabody and Washington are both 90th birthday celebrations. I suspect, some years ago, a big fuss would be made when someone reached 75, but no longer. When I look around, the average age seems to be in the mid-eighties. Perhaps it is because I am 87, and these are the people I hang around with. Of course, there is another group of younger people with whom I am involved. Some are the parents of our son David’s Schechter classmates. Since I was 54 when David was born, they are much younger. In addition, I continue to be active and involved with my two favorite organizations—the Jewish Labor Committee and the Workmen’s Circle—and my colleagues there are also much younger. There was a moment when I wondered whether I was looked upon as an elder statesman or a has-been. I don’t think about it any more. I just go to the meetings and say whatever I want, and don’t worry. I play the role of the resident historian, providing continuity—a link to the past.
There was a time, more than 60 years ago, when my mailbox was filled with invitations—to weddings. Everybody I knew was getting married. It started in 1949, and continued for more than a decade. Then came the birth announcements. In some cases, they were followed by invitations to brisses and baby namings, then to Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, and then to weddings. The next generation arrived and took over.
We were getting older, our children were grown, we celebrated the birth of grandchildren, we celebrated retirements, we celebrated birthdays and anniversaries that had a big number that ended in five or zero. But it was not all fun and parties. There was illness and there was loss. Visits to hospitals and nursing homes, and funerals and cemeteries. Mourning and tears. Our circle was getting smaller.
That is why I am so pleased to be going this weekend to the 90th birthday party for Arthur Bernstein, the brother of Julius Bernstein, who I first met in 1956 when I went to work for the JLC. Arthur was (and still is) a delight. A seaman who, after World War II, signed up to bring survivors of the Holocaust to Palestine. Whenever I see him, he tells me, ”I’ve got the world by the balls.” Hang on, Arthur.
And that is why I look forward to going to Washington for the 90th birthday bash for Dan Jordan, who I first met in 1950 when we were together in the ILGWU Training Institute. I liked the guy from the start. We thought alike, beyond our commitment to labor. He had a great collection of Benny Goodman records, and he also read PM. Dan organized in Pennsylvania, left the ILGWU for law school, went to work for the Textile Workers Union, and we kept in touch. Once, when he came to DC, we introduced him to Ruth Stack. They both were divorced, and we felt they were a natural. They married, and I want to take credit.
But the high point of the coming weekend is the marriage of Rachel Beth Epstein to Adam Jacob Cooperstock. This will be the first marriage we are attending of a friend’s GRANDCHILD. (My oldest grandchild is 14. I don’t think Miles will be getting married any time soon.) So off we go to Melville Long Island. We won’t be able to do much dancing, the music will be too loud, there will be too much food, and there will be lots of people whom we do not know, and who will be a lot younger than us, but we will have a fantastic time, and we will all be “shepping nakhas” (getting joy, only more so.)
There is another Yiddish expression: “nur simkhes” (only celebrations, happy occasions). It is said when people get together, realizing that we will certainly see each other on sad occasions. Let us hope that our future meetings will be joyous. So far, so good.
There is still ANOTHER Yiddish expression: “biz a hundert tsvantsig” (you should live to 120). I have modified that, wishing my elderly friends on their birthdays, “zayt gezint un shtark, biz a hundert.” (be well and strong, until 100). For most of my healthy friends, it is achievable. As I observed at the beginning, it is spring. Hope springs eternal. Fran just received a clean bill of health from her oncology team, and we will be celebrating her 80th birthday in November. In two and a half years, look forward to receiving an invitation to my 90th birthday. And over the next decade, I look forward to receiving invitations to several 100th birthday celebrations. And to several more grandchildren’s weddings. Mazel Tov, everybody!
4-17-15
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “The Spring of 2015,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 22, 2025, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/358.