Goodbye Grandma: 42*19’N,83*02’W

My Grandmother was 102 when she passed away on Thursday, March 8, 2011.  What follows is the eulogy I gave at her funeral on Saturday, March 11, 2012.

Detroit, Michigan:  My grandmother Sarene was nearly 102 years old when she passed early on Thursday morning.  Any way you look at it – despite all of life’s ups and downs -- Grandma had a full, good, happy and healthy run on this Earth. 

We have funerals not just to honor those who have gone, but to comfort the living.  So, on behalf of my entire family – Sarene’s daughter -- my mother, Joanne and my father Bob; my sisters, Debbie and Laurie; and my cousins Helaine, Matt and David, as well as our spouses and partners, and all of Grandma’s great grandchildren, I would like to thank all of you for your love and support at this sad time, and for joining us this morning to honor Grandma and her life.

It is nearly impossible to sum up 102 years in just a few minutes --  but I’ll try.  Grandma was born in 1910 to a poor coal mining family in downstate Illinois.  Like so many during the early part of the 20^th Century, her family moved to industrial Detroit in search of a better life.  And while Grandma was never rich financially, she was well off in many other ways; her tough as nails demeanor, good looks and unending charm served her very well.  Grandma could work it with the best of them.  She married a wonderful man – my Grandfather Marshall -- who died in 1961 before I was born.  She had two loving daughters, six grandchildren, and eleven great grandchildren.  In her later years, she married Nate Mazer, and he became part of our family and she became part of his.

To be honest – and I know most of you would agree with me -- until very recently I thought that Grandma was going to outlive us all.  Except for annoying cataracts and even more annoying allergies – something I can assure you she passed on to everyone in her family – Grandma was a strong and healthy woman.  She was a breast cancer survivor, who once told me that having Corn Flakes for breakfast and a beer every night was the best medicine in the world. 

Most importantly and thankfully, almost to the very end Grandma had a strong and sound mind.  You couldn’t get one past her – you forget to call her on her birthday, you are in BIG trouble, and you go to the bottom of “the list.”  Her memory never faltered and unlike so many who live as long as she did, Grandma never descended into a horrible abyss of dementia.  She was very lucky for many reasons, and while I don’t want to downplay how sad we all are today, I can’t help but think that this is also a time to celebrate because Grandma was with us for so long.

Next year I turn 50.  I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t a part of my life.  Not many people my age can say that about a grandparent.  My very earliest memory of Grandma was her vacuum cleaner.  It fascinated me – and whenever I went to see her she would “let” me vacuum her carpet.   Very crafty Grandma.   

After her second husband David Gooze died, Grandma came to live with us in Southfield.  She was in her early 60s at that time, and she was definitely not through.  She loved to get dressed up for a night on the town – a night of dancing and a night of merriment.   She was the proverbial life of the party, or as my father dubbed her, “a sexy senior citizen.”  Although she never wanted for a date, one man in particular – Nate Mazer – caught her eye. 

My most vivid, and probably funniest memory of Grandma, is of her wedding to Nate at the old Temple Beth El on Woodward and Gladstone.  Grandma came out on the B’mah in a bright pink, velvet pant suit.  Now this was 1973 and I’m sure that what she was wearing was fashionable and tasteful for the time.  However, one 9 year old boy (me) thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.  And my nonstop giggling got my cousin Matt to giggle, and soon Mom and my late Aunt DeeDee were ready to kill us both.  Even to this day, when I think of Grandma, thoughts of the pink pant suit aren’t far behind.

Growing up not far from her little house in Oak Park or one of her apartments in Southfield, I saw Grandma all the time at family functions and get togethers.  When we moved to Wisconsin, I of course saw less of her, but my mother – as she did right until the end – called Grandma every week.  Often I would take time out to jump on the phone for a couple of minutes just to say hello and hear her voice.

As I got older and moved to Minnesota, Washington, DC and finally California, I saw and spoke to Grandma less.  On my own weekly calls to my parents, however, my mother would always fill me in on what Grandma was up to.  Some of the reports never failed to amaze me.  For instance, learning that well into her 80s Grandma was working for Marriott serving pizza in the Birmingham public schools.

Every couple of months I would pick up the phone and call her myself.  Even when I could tell that she was tired or bit under the weather, she always sounded happy to hear my voice.  And, of course, she would always tell me that I was her “special angel.” 

More recently, I made it a point to come to Detroit at least once a year to see her.   I would take her out to eat.  She would show me off to the ladies at the home, and we would sit in her apartment looking at old photos, reminiscing about the past or watching her beloved Detroit Tigers. 

One of the most memorable visits was seven or eight years ago – Mom was visiting from California and my sisters and I came in for the weekend as a surprise for Grandma’s birthday.  We all arrived at separate times, so Grandma got three surprises in one afternoon.  It’s a good thing she had a strong heart.  She was absolutely tickled to be with us and we had a wonderful time with her.

The last time I saw her was in July for her birthday.  Mom and I took Grandma to Nordstrom at Somerset so we could buy her shoes.  As Grandma was trying them on, she of course charmed the 18-year old salesperson, who could not believe that he was helping someone who was over 100 years old.  I couldn’t believe it either.

Grandma, you were a remarkable woman.  We love you and we will miss you.