Jazuela
05-07-2004, 07:50 AM
I'm alone here and it's 3 hours til work and I don't feel like crying all morning, so hopefully this will help keep me busy for awhile.
When we were little, Andy Skalrz who lived in the house behind my grandparents' place, couldn't pronounce my grandmother's name. He was just a little older than I, maybe 6 or 7 at the most. So instead of calling her Goldythe, he called her Gogi.
And it stuck.
Everyone knew her as Gogi; the neighbors, family, friends, business contacts. She was the matriarch of my mom's family, and ran it with a firm but gentle hand. A wiz in finances, she helped my grandfather establish his business and run the household, producing a very comfortable life for themselves. Not bad for the kids of immigrants from Germany and Russia. Papa was a dentist - he left an endowment to Tufts University as his way of "giving back" to the school that helped him succeed.
Gogi was funny as hell. She would sing that "Down In the Meadow In an Itty Bitty Pool" in baby-talk, even when we were adults she'd sing it to us just so we could all laugh together. To hear a 90-year old woman sing "Fwam Fwee Widdle Fissies anna Mamma Fissie Toooo" is enough to get everyone laughing their asses off - especially since she always sang it out of tune.
When I was a little girl, we'd drive to their house in our green Pontiac, with "the magic blanket" - this old tattered plaid blanket draped over my sister and my lap to keep us warm in the wintertime. It was only around 15 minutes away, but when you're young, "Are we there yet?" is the most common phrase you know. Then we'd go to the magickal house with its sunken living room where no one ever sat because the furniture was silk and Gogi didn't want it to get dirty.
We'd go into the den instead, and play with the Agent 007 car, or watch black and white TV with Papa, while he smoked his pipe, and Gogi would make my "double milk" in the kitchen. Double milk - was her way of getting me to drink my milk, which I absolutely hated. It was a little trick - she'd put a big dollop of chocolate syrup in the glass, and pour milk over it. If I wanted that chocolate, I had to drink the milk. It never occurred to me that I could just mix the two with my finger and have chocolate milk. When you're only 6 years old, things like that just never occur to you.
I remember being mortified of their shower. People just didn't HAVE showers like this when we were young. It was big enough for two people, and had jets coming out the side walls in addition to the usual showerhead. Once time I turned it on just to see what would happen. It had been set to jet instead of showerhead, and the spray was so strong I screamed. I can't remember exactly, but I think Gogi came in and rescued me from the evil shower monster.
I remember sitting on the patio with my parents, Gogi and Papa, having a crush on Andy Sklarz the back-door neighbor kid. We all felt so sophisticated out there in the pristine wooded and landscaped yard that Papa did mostly by himself.
I remember when they moved to Florida, and my sister Marcy and I took our first airplane ride together without our parents to visit. It was a champaigne flight - they had those in those days, even if you weren't in first class. I remember Gogi always looked old to me. I didn't really notice how much she's aged in the past 35 or so years until the last two times I went to visit.
I remember taking the Autotrain with Gogi and my sister down to Florida. I remember sitting in the piano bar in the train, and playing my guitar for the riders who were there, and Gogi scolding me for being with "undesirables" in the piano bar but always - ALWAYS encouraging me to be creative.
I remember all the times Gogi told me that I should be a writer. How she would praise the letters I'd send her from summer camp and tell me how much I'd improved over the previous year. How she'd tell me that I am a foolish girl for having so many dreams and not trying to fulfill them.
I remember seeing her last year - how she had aged! It made me so sad to see her so uncomfortable, how she had trouble walking but her stubborn pride got in the way of her using a cane or walker. How she had a dowager's hump on her back from relying on a spine that wasn't working right anymore. I remember her telling me the story of our heritage, our family roots in Germany and Russia, how we ended up in the States, how my ancestor came here to begin a new life and almost dying to sickness on the way across the ocean and during his first year.
How Papa's family started a humble bakery in New Haven that thrived and became one of the most successful bakeries in town for the time. I remember she would tell me when she was a little girl, she and her pals would sometimes snitch chips of ice off the horse-driven ice wagon - that was their big treat in those days - there was no refrigeration yet in the USA.
I remember when Papa died 14 years ago, one year before my wedding. Gogi promised herself then that she would never dance again. You should've seen them on the dance floor when Papa was alive - they were a magickal couple, so graceful, so much love. I remember she wouldn't dance with me at my wedding, and how we cried together for a few moments because we both wished Papa was there to see such a happy day.
I remember visiting her only two weeks ago, taking her out of the nursing home and bringing her back to her condo. I remember crying because she was delusional from a massive sodium deficiency, and her oh-so-few lucid moments when she would describe her hallucinations to me and we would laugh about them together. She saw Charlton Heston riding down the ceiling to the wall in a chariot. I remember her always saying "I love you, darling," before she'd hang up the phone when we talked together.
I remember her 90th birthday when almost 100 people, mostly family and many many friends came to honor this elegant, lovely woman.
Gogi died last night - my sister called less than an hour ago to tell me. She was my favorite relative, above and beyond all others. I can only take solace in knowing that Papa and Gogi are dancing together again.
Goldythe Eskin Hyman - Matriarch, died at age 93
Rest In Peace
When we were little, Andy Skalrz who lived in the house behind my grandparents' place, couldn't pronounce my grandmother's name. He was just a little older than I, maybe 6 or 7 at the most. So instead of calling her Goldythe, he called her Gogi.
And it stuck.
Everyone knew her as Gogi; the neighbors, family, friends, business contacts. She was the matriarch of my mom's family, and ran it with a firm but gentle hand. A wiz in finances, she helped my grandfather establish his business and run the household, producing a very comfortable life for themselves. Not bad for the kids of immigrants from Germany and Russia. Papa was a dentist - he left an endowment to Tufts University as his way of "giving back" to the school that helped him succeed.
Gogi was funny as hell. She would sing that "Down In the Meadow In an Itty Bitty Pool" in baby-talk, even when we were adults she'd sing it to us just so we could all laugh together. To hear a 90-year old woman sing "Fwam Fwee Widdle Fissies anna Mamma Fissie Toooo" is enough to get everyone laughing their asses off - especially since she always sang it out of tune.
When I was a little girl, we'd drive to their house in our green Pontiac, with "the magic blanket" - this old tattered plaid blanket draped over my sister and my lap to keep us warm in the wintertime. It was only around 15 minutes away, but when you're young, "Are we there yet?" is the most common phrase you know. Then we'd go to the magickal house with its sunken living room where no one ever sat because the furniture was silk and Gogi didn't want it to get dirty.
We'd go into the den instead, and play with the Agent 007 car, or watch black and white TV with Papa, while he smoked his pipe, and Gogi would make my "double milk" in the kitchen. Double milk - was her way of getting me to drink my milk, which I absolutely hated. It was a little trick - she'd put a big dollop of chocolate syrup in the glass, and pour milk over it. If I wanted that chocolate, I had to drink the milk. It never occurred to me that I could just mix the two with my finger and have chocolate milk. When you're only 6 years old, things like that just never occur to you.
I remember being mortified of their shower. People just didn't HAVE showers like this when we were young. It was big enough for two people, and had jets coming out the side walls in addition to the usual showerhead. Once time I turned it on just to see what would happen. It had been set to jet instead of showerhead, and the spray was so strong I screamed. I can't remember exactly, but I think Gogi came in and rescued me from the evil shower monster.
I remember sitting on the patio with my parents, Gogi and Papa, having a crush on Andy Sklarz the back-door neighbor kid. We all felt so sophisticated out there in the pristine wooded and landscaped yard that Papa did mostly by himself.
I remember when they moved to Florida, and my sister Marcy and I took our first airplane ride together without our parents to visit. It was a champaigne flight - they had those in those days, even if you weren't in first class. I remember Gogi always looked old to me. I didn't really notice how much she's aged in the past 35 or so years until the last two times I went to visit.
I remember taking the Autotrain with Gogi and my sister down to Florida. I remember sitting in the piano bar in the train, and playing my guitar for the riders who were there, and Gogi scolding me for being with "undesirables" in the piano bar but always - ALWAYS encouraging me to be creative.
I remember all the times Gogi told me that I should be a writer. How she would praise the letters I'd send her from summer camp and tell me how much I'd improved over the previous year. How she'd tell me that I am a foolish girl for having so many dreams and not trying to fulfill them.
I remember seeing her last year - how she had aged! It made me so sad to see her so uncomfortable, how she had trouble walking but her stubborn pride got in the way of her using a cane or walker. How she had a dowager's hump on her back from relying on a spine that wasn't working right anymore. I remember her telling me the story of our heritage, our family roots in Germany and Russia, how we ended up in the States, how my ancestor came here to begin a new life and almost dying to sickness on the way across the ocean and during his first year.
How Papa's family started a humble bakery in New Haven that thrived and became one of the most successful bakeries in town for the time. I remember she would tell me when she was a little girl, she and her pals would sometimes snitch chips of ice off the horse-driven ice wagon - that was their big treat in those days - there was no refrigeration yet in the USA.
I remember when Papa died 14 years ago, one year before my wedding. Gogi promised herself then that she would never dance again. You should've seen them on the dance floor when Papa was alive - they were a magickal couple, so graceful, so much love. I remember she wouldn't dance with me at my wedding, and how we cried together for a few moments because we both wished Papa was there to see such a happy day.
I remember visiting her only two weeks ago, taking her out of the nursing home and bringing her back to her condo. I remember crying because she was delusional from a massive sodium deficiency, and her oh-so-few lucid moments when she would describe her hallucinations to me and we would laugh about them together. She saw Charlton Heston riding down the ceiling to the wall in a chariot. I remember her always saying "I love you, darling," before she'd hang up the phone when we talked together.
I remember her 90th birthday when almost 100 people, mostly family and many many friends came to honor this elegant, lovely woman.
Gogi died last night - my sister called less than an hour ago to tell me. She was my favorite relative, above and beyond all others. I can only take solace in knowing that Papa and Gogi are dancing together again.
Goldythe Eskin Hyman - Matriarch, died at age 93
Rest In Peace