Arnold, Gershon and Rita Baskin
Elisha’s grandfather passed away last night. He was a ninety-years old man, who had already buried a daughter, a son and a beloved wife in the soil of America, his homeland. Death put an end to his sufferings and his two beloved sons were at his side.
Just as Elisha and I began dating, one of her cousins was about to be wed. I suggested I’d travel with her and meet the entire family, both sides of it. It was strikingly early in our relationship, one would think – too early, but today I am so glad we took advantage of the opportunity. Here, Saba Arnie is gone, and a memory remains.
A memory is made up of many things. Southern Florida stunned me with its humidity and its flatness. Saba’s neighborhood, designed for elders such as he, was a radical version of the anyway radical American suburbs. Saba Arnie received us with a table of American-Ashkenazi goodies that go well with a fresh bagel, and with fresh bagels to boot. He then topped that with a meal at an unforgettable Jewish deli located in a strip mall, comme il faut. The retiree clientele wore Hawaii shirts (he did not) and the pastrami and pickles that came out of the kitchen were spot on and delightful.
The Baskin Family 1971. Rita Baskin, Gershon Baskin, Lonny Baskin, Richard Baskin and Arnold Baskin.
I hope this foray into gastronomy does not cause you to picture Saba Arnie as some sort of a bagel Bacchus, because that was not his spirit at all. He was a very serious man, a man who is easily angered, a man who carried a great load on his shoulders. For me, however, he was firstly a host. I haven’t been so well hosted – so wisely hosted – in years. Still, it isn’t the hospitality that stayed with me.
What stayed with me is the heart worn on one’s sleeve: words that he said as we traveled back to his home the the automotive American night. They were words about Grandma, who died a decade earlier in a car crash, and about the loss of which he will never recover. I remember each of those words and how much they surprised me with their honestly and truthfulness. I remember the driveway leading to the house and the car’s lights switched off.
He allowed himself to speak that way because Elisha was there, but I was there too. I had the privilege of witnessing true love and understanding its nature, just as a true love of my own was coming to be. These words of Saba Arnie, with all their terrible sadness, were a great gift. I am grateful for it tonight and am sending a hug for his soul, which may no longer be alone.
