Category: Family

On the Death of My Cousin Marc

I learned today that my cousin Marc died on December 22, 2018 in New York City. I hadn’t seen him for over 25 years. Though I visited New York many times during those years we never ran into each other. Not that was a likely occurrence to happen.

There were family issues that existed as I imagine exist in most families. Marc marched to a different drummer as did I and my mother, and as do we all to the drum beats that end up separating us.

So what do I remember about this beautiful child? He was bright, he had wit, he was very mean, backbiting, a gossip, fragile and insecure. One afternoon after a day of doing what I do not remember we ended up in the kitchen of the house on Bennet Avenue having a heart to heart of sorts in which he tore into everyone in the family and I said to him “When I leave what will you say about me”?

Marc had a fine eye for art and design. Marc had style and grace. One party I remember he had at his apartment when we were all in Chicago, he served the best Pimm’s cup and was proud to point out a Max Gunther painting he acquired.

Marc married well and had beautiful children. Two sons, two daughters and beautiful grandchildren. All seem to live well and prosper. The last I saw any of them was at Marc’s brother Basil’s daughter Audrey’s wedding.

Such are our generations. It was Marc’s oldest daughter Elizabeth that brought my mother back from estrangement with her family after 25 years. Of course, she had no idea that she had a role to play but that is a story for another day.

Dear Marc, beloved cousin, I choose to remember you as we are here. Long before the wars began. You shall remain in my heart all the days of my life.

Sixty-three years ago on November 22, 1945, my father stood in the very small dining area in our apartment on Wightman Street in the Squirrel Hill district of  Pittsburgh, PA with my mom, his sister, my Aunt Mitzi, her husband Herbert Gold and their son, my cousin Ivan, and his mother, my Granny B, Bessie Baringoltz.

There was much to celebrate but also much to mourn. World War II was over. Germany had surrendered May 7, 1945, and Japan formally surrendered September 2, 1945.

The President who I thought was much like G-d, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, had died April 12, 1945. My father’s father my Grandpa B, Jacob Baringolts died June 28, 1945. It was a spring and summer filled with gratitude and sorrow.

So Thanksgiving came and the small family of Jacob and Bessie Baringoltz with my mother the youngest of the Kromelow Clan and my Uncle Herbert of the Gold Clan gathered in our little apartment on Wightman Street for the holidays.

My mother was an excellent cook. I’m sure the table was splendid with all the good food that I remember for Thanksgivings of my growing up and adult years, but I can’t tell you what was on the table that Thanksgiving. In fact, I remember nothing about the food.

What I remember is that my father wrote a poem for this occasion. I remember him standing in the tight dining area space raising a glass of wine and remembering my grandfather, his voice breaking as he eulogized a man he dearly loved, and President Roosevelt a man he truly honored and respected. Then he proceeded with the poem “Oh Thanksgiving, Oh Thanksgiving. On this Day it’s thanks we’re giving. Cause Hitler’s and Tojo’s goose is cooked. ” That is all of that poem I remember and though I looked through all of his papers I never found a copy of this poem he wrote for that occasion.

I am not sure why my heart goes back to that Thanksgiving so long ago. This is a different time. Different challenges. But given what happened just a few weeks ago at the Tree of Life Synagogue not far from where we lived in Squirrel Hill the fears of my childhood, Hitler coming to America seemed all too real.

In case we had somehow forgotten, we were starkly reminded that antisemitism was alive and well and living in the USA along with all the other anti-gay, black, Hispanic, Islamic, anti you name it festering like a boil on this nations behind.

The past two years where anger, division, death, and destruction have accelerated across this nation for all too many. Where allies are demonized and foes are revered. Where murder is condoned and the ego of one man above all must be appeased. Where the divide between the haves and have-nots has widened and cries of the needy are drowned out by the excesses of the greedy, despite this I still believe we have reason to be thankful.

The midterm elections happened. And though the war isn’t over and we haven’t rounded up all the bad guys and we haven’t won all the battles and truth, justice, the American Way and Apple Pie is just a bunch of words this year I can say, this is for you dad. Miss you all the days of my life and thank you for all you taught me.

Thanksgiving November 22, 2018

Oh Thanksgiving, Oh Thanksgiving

On this day it’s thanks we’re giving,

Robert Muller still stands tall

DJT may take a fall. 

The Rainbow flag flies high and proud

Women rose up strong and loud

Fossil fuel has a bad name

Renewables are bound to gain. 

The NRA’s Russian deal

Has caused them to lose some appeal.

The midterms turned the Congress-Blue

And we can all be thankful too. 

For young voters who turned out

They are the ones who will have clout.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all

May our county stay free and stand tall

May you have a day of peace and rest.

And know that we wish you all the best.  

About 4 years ago I started on a journey to discover where my Grandfather Meyer Kromelow came from and how the sir name came about.

Not long ago I had my DNA tested.  I am 89.6%  Ashkenazim Jewish,  but who knew South Europe 7.2% most likely Greek, East Europe 1.1 % most likely Balkan, and 2.1% South Asia.

Some years past I had my mitochondrial DNA done that showed I was a descendant of N9A who came out of Africa some 65 to 70 thousand years ago and whose daughters pretty much traveled the path that marks my DNA up to the Middle East, Asia, Central Europe, moving on to Italy, China and Scandinavia. I had hoped I would discover some long lost relative through this link but that so far has never happened.  Frankly, I didn’t think it would be any different when I had my DNA tested by My Heritage.

Then one day I got this message:  The following is our conversation.

MyHeritage DNA Match with Mylan Hawkins
Adam Bershad
Oct 29, 2017,at 4:37 pm
Hello! You have a high DNA match to my grandmother. Where is your family from and what are your family surnames?

Hope to hear back soon!

– Adam

Hi Adam: My maternal Grandmothers’ families were Katz or Cohen her mother was a Fine. She came from Zhytomyr, Ukraine. On my maternal Grandfather’s side, we do not know what his birth last name was. When they came to America he took the sir name of the town where we think he was born. The name family name is now Kromelow.
What about you?
Mylan

Adam Bershad
Nov 1, 2017 at 10:59 pm
Hi! So my grandmother’s family came from Belarus and Poland. Actually, a few generations back, my grandmother’s great great grandmother was Perla Kromoloski. Pretty similar. I’m curious if the match could be through there. My doubt is that the match DNA wise looks way to close to be that distant of a match, and should be more along the lines of great grandparents.

Mylan Hawkins
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:16 pm
On my Maternal Grandfather’s side, we believe he came from kromolow zawiercie, Poland that was once part of the Russian Empire and where we believe the family name came from. Anyone in your family line with a connection to Chicago? My grandmother had a sister Naomi who married a Porwancher!

Adam Bershad
Jan 14, 2018 at 3:28 pm
Hm no Chicago! So you match 226 cM. You are probably looking at 3rd couins to my grandmother, which means you would share 2x great grandparents. I have all my grandma’s Polish side back to the late 1700s to early 1800s!

Adam Bershad
Jan 29, 2018 at 5:27 pm
Hi, could you tell me the names of your Kromelow family?

Mylan Hawkins
Jan 31, 2018 at 2:11 pm
My grandfather’s name was Myer, I do not have his brothers names. His grandfather’s mother was Carol or Caroline and his father was Irwin. One of my Kromelow grandparent’s daughters was my Aunt Pearl. Wonder if she was named after your grandmother’s Great Great Grandmother. The other children’s names were Harry, Abraham, Hyman, Leah, Theodore, Joseph and Ruth.

Adam Bershad
Feb 6, 2018 at 8:31 pm
I will look into this, I’ll message you back if I find anything, or if I have more questions. I will build you a tree on ancestry to mirror my tree. Basically, I will add your tree with the hopes of finding the connection (which is definitely there, we just don’t know where)
Adam Bershad

Feb 6, 2018 at 8:35 pm
Actually, the first question, of the people mentioned, are all of their last names Kromelow?
Adam Bershad

Feb 6, 2018 at 8:54 pm
Nevermind! I found info on them. Let’s see if I can put the pieces together.
Adam Bershad

Feb 6, 2018 at 9:25 pm
Sorry with all of the messages. So looking back and forth, it actually looks like you and my grandmother should be 2nd cousins! Now you said Myer’s father was Irwin. Where did you get that name from? I want to hear your answer before I make a hypothesis- Adam

Mylan Hawkins
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:08 am
Both my Aunt Pearl and my mother told me that Pearl’s oldest daughter was named after both of Myer’s parents. Irwin and Carol or Caroline. She was named Irwinna Carol. My Aunt Pearl married Albert Slatin.

Adam Bershad
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:31 am
Hi Mylan,

Thank you for getting back to me. If you would like to friend me on facebook please be my guest. My profile picture is me in Eagles attire. We could also email to share photos. I found your tree on this site with all of the photos. This one photo in particular of Hyman Kromelow looks EXACTLY like my great grandfather Casper Jay.

Here are the facts that I am putting together

you match my grandmother Helen Jay Bershad distinctly as 2nd cousins meaning you MUST share a set of great grandparents

We have 2 Kromelow matches on ancestry.com, who seem to appear in your MyHeritage tree who appear to be 2nd cousins once removed with my grandmother. Your Kromelow cousins match everyone on this side of my family including our cousins who changed the last name to Yellin.

Our surname was originally Jelen.

Since you must match my grandmother on her Jelen side and share great-grandparents, my grandmother’s great-grandparents were Ruwin Herszlik Jelen and Frymeta Jacheta Spiewak.

2 notes, your grandfather Meyer was born in 1873 or so, and my 2x great grandfather was born in 1877. The ages fit perfectly as them being brothers.

Irwinna could totally be named after Ruwin (though its pronounced Roovayn or Ruven, though it looks like Roowin)

Irwin is not a Polish name is it makes lots of sense. As for Carol, I am not sure. Frymeta Jacheta (pronounced Freemeta Yakheta)
doesn’t sound like Carol, so it could be a misunderstanding of another grandparent

Ruwin Herszlik Jelen’s grandmother was Perla Kromoloski, so its quite possible Meyer took her surname.

Let me know what you think!

– Adam Bershad

Mylan Hawkins
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:34 pm
Adam: I remember my mother telling me that there were Yellin’s in the family. I can’t see your family tree is there a way I can get a link. This is really very exciting. You would be the same age as my 1st cousins once removed and second cousins. This is just amazing. Do you know where Meyer was born and who his parents were? I could find nothing on him.
And where is your family from. My grandfather Meyer had a brother in New York. I remember my grandparents going to New York for some family event.

Adam Bershad
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:59 pm
Yes! This confirms it then if you were related to Yellins! I’ll respond here, but let me know if you prefer messaging through facebook or email so we can share photos. I just accepted your request. My email is (blanked for Privacy) If I get your email I can give you access to my tree.

I am probably younger than that. I am just about 22 years old.

The Jelen family lived in Konicepol, Poland which was a small schtetl outside of the town Czestechowa which wasn’t so big either.

My cousin Matthew Jay and I have been able to gather records from this town from a site we pay for. We are looking to make another subscription to potentially find new records. They are always updating records and we haven’t been on in a year.

I can tell you what I know about this generation, there were many children

The parents are Ruwin Herszlik Jelen (1830-1896) and Frymeta Jacheta Spiewak (1834-1900)

Known children (through records, and now adding your grandfather)

Aron Szlama Jelen (1854-1919) —> married Chaja Blum (1855-1919) His children all came to US, to New York and Philadelphia. They all changed their last name to Yellin. He and his wife got sick in Poland and died there

Mindla Jelen (1855- unknown) —> don’t know anything about her besides she married what the records say Sanel Braun

Gitla Jelen (1858-1940’s) –> married Kopel Lewkowicz (1853-1936), much of this family died in the Holocaust. Those who survived moved to Australia. One of the survivors wrote a book. He passed away recently in the last year I think. (http://ljla.org.au/lewkowicz-berek-a-boy-from-bedzin/)

Perla Jelen (1862-unknown) –> married Moszek Nowak. no details on them besides having a son David

Meyer Kromelow (1873-1950) –> Your family)

Moszek Szmul Jelen (1877-1950) — my family. Married Hinda Pik (1874-1930). They moved to the US. First to New York and then to New Jersey, and finally settled in Philadelphia in around 1908 I believe. He changed his name to Samuel Morris Jay, as did the entire family change their last name to Jay.

My dad grew up in Philly so I came to Temple University to get back to my roots. I grew up in New Jersey, so not too far away. My grandparents still live here.

There are probably more siblings, and more details to the siblings we don’t know much about. The only family that we knew were the Yellins as they were in the area. I don’t personally know any of them but have recently gotten in touch through facebook. Of the younger generation (they are older than me, but I am the generation of their mother) they have a cooking youtube channel called Brothers Green Eats. (https://www.youtube.com/user/BrothersGreenEats)

Excited to learn more about your family!

– Adam Bershad
Mylan Hawkins
Feb 7, 2018 at 5:31 pm
Adam:
My email is (blanked) I have a blog https://aliceblue-loris-439070.hostingersite.com/family/ where I recorded what I knew about the families beginning to this point. You are the same age as several of my first cousins once removed children.

I have several close cousins who are very much involved with family genealogy and they are going to be blown away by this discovery. I lived in Philly ( well actually in Villanova on the Bryn Mawr border for a time) and spent a lot of time in New York. And I am thrilled the Eagle’s won.
Lots to talk about. I prefer email to this or you can message me on FB. too. So Let’s switch over to those forms of communication.

So it was. The search was finally to come to an end. Adam and his cousin Mathew Jay solved the line of inheritance and indeed we are all part of one big family.  I am of the same generation as Adam’s grandmother Helen Abigail Jay who married Adam’s grandfather Jack Bershard.  It was through following Helen’s father Casper G. Jay who had an uncanny resemblance to my Uncle Hy Kromelow that the link was made to a Great Great Great Grandmother Perla Kromolowshi who married Arron S. Jelen. Their daughter  Malka Laja (Molly) married one of Perla’s relatives. maybe a cousin or an Uncle, Herszlik (Harry) Kromolowshi . They were Meyer’s parents.

I knew Adam had found Meyer’s line when he asked if he had been married before. Indeed I knew that to be true. Also in his family tree was a brother, Harry Lewis that I remembered came to Chicago to visit one summer.

The search for all the rest goes on. But at least we know how the name of Kromelow came to be. The big plus we discovered our extended family.

I hope one of these days to meet Adam and his cousin Matthew. Amazing what one can learn from a little spit.

.

The rituals of life, the ties of family and friends, these gatherings to celebrate are the very warp and woof of the cloth that holds us together. So it was that thanks to my daughter in law Tracy’s insistence our granddaughter Amelia was called to the Torah. The ceremony was held on Saturday, May 7th 2016 at 10:30 in the morning at Temple Beth El.

It goes with out saying that Amelia also had to be up for the task. Willing to study and undertake with serious dedication the challenge of learning not only Hebrew but chanting her portion of the Torah and writing her Bat Mitzva dissertation on what that portion meant. This is a big deal. She is now and forever a part of the living Torah.

When Amelia was just a few months old her parents had a family and close friend gathering for her Simchat bat or naming ceremony.  I brought the Tallit that my father wore at his Bar Mitzva to wrap her in and she wore that again now as a young woman on this special day.

Temple Beth El is a beautiful and welcoming  synagogue.  The Cantor Manny Silver and the Rabbi Allan Tuff are exceptional mensch.  There is something in my DNA, maybe the product of generations of the daughters of N9a that responds to the rituals of the service that date back a thousand thousand generations.  The reminder of Rabbi Hillel’s words “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow: this is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn”. That is in essence what it means to be called to the Torah.

The Sabbath service both in English and Hebrew so familiar was by its familiarity tender and moving including a special rendition of the Hallelujah prayer sung to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Ari, Tracy, grandparents Logan and Bernadette Nichols, Uncle Kevin Hawkins and Godfather and cousin Eric Kromelow and I were all called up on the Bema to be part of the service. Ari and I each did the blessing  before and after the reading of the Torah.  Logan, Bernadette, Kevin and Eric all participated in open the ark where the Torahs are kept and Eric helped with taking off the Torah covering as well as putting it back on for the walk around the congregation after Amelia had read her portion.

Special moments: Ari speaking to his daughter, his voice filled with emotion about her fearlessness.Not being afraid to take on a new challenge or project.

“To my daughter Amelia on your Bat Mitzvah.

Amelia, I am so honored to be your father. Words cannot express how much you have changed my life and how much you mean to me. Love is not big enough of a word to embrace my feelings for you and how much I care about your future and well being.

When you were just a little girl I would always tell you that my job as your parent was to keep you happy healthy and safe.

Well, I will never stop doing that job as long as I live as it is a job well worth doing.

There are so many moments in your life so far that I remember and cherish and all of them so wonderful:

Our father Daughter Dances, every time I dropped you off at school and picked you up to see your smiling face, your first time at Disney World, when you refused to go up to Chip and Dale. When you would tell me that’s Right Daddy! To put me in my place, when you would dress like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, our first Cubs game together, your first roller coaster ride where I learned you were fearless, the first time you saw snow and jumped headfirst into a pile of it, your first steps, or when you called Dr. Sash to tell him you were finally potty trained! And now to see you growing up and playing softball, studying for your bat mitzvah, on the stage in lead roles, always doing your very best in school, These are all  just some of the moments in time that we shared and they will never be lost, and they are my life’s most precious moments.

I am proud of you in so many ways, from the way you treat everyone you know with respect and caring to the way you always tell the truth and talk about your feelings.  You will always be the better me, and every time I look at you I am reminded about what is good in this world.

Above all else Amelia you have shown me that you are not afraid: not afraid to make new friends, not afraid of a new school, not afraid to try sports you have never played, not afraid to lose, not afraid to make mistakes, not afraid to learn, but most important of all you have never been afraid to just be yourself.

Again, Amelia, I am honored to be your father, because it has been and will always be an honor to watch you grow into a woman and to continue to see you be the wonderful person that you are.  It is indeed a wonder to watch the Spirit of a child grow into the Soul of a woman and I will always love you and be here to keep you happy healthy and safe.

Love, your Dad”

Tracy speaking with warmth and humor about how cautious Amelia was when she was little.

“Dear Amelia:

I noticed very early on in your development, that you approach life with caution.  It was interesting to watch this when you were just about a year old.  Watching how tentative you moved and played compared to your friend Elle who was climbing and falling…..she seemed to be fearless.  It seemed nothing would get in her way.  I remember you girls liked to crawl up the and down the stairs in the townhouse…..she would crawl to the top of the staircase then bounce down on her butt while you sat at the top of the stairs waiting for me to carry you down.   If she wanted off the bed…she slid down.  You sat on the bed crying until I picked you up.

At such a young age, you were analyzing each move contemplating the outcome.  It was at that time that I decided it would be my responsibility to challenge you to take risks and swimming lessons seemed like a natural start.   You approached your first dip in the pool cautiously (yet enthusiastically) and over the 8 week session, you learned to float on your back, kick your legs, even mastering what seemed to be the scariest…holding your breath under water.  You were so proud when you dunked your head under the water and held your breath for the first time.

The next scary challenge was jumping off the side of the pool into the deep end.  You stood at the edge of the pool and I stood in the water (toes barely touching the bottom) and then I said, “Now Jump!”  You were dead against it.  I tried coaxing you in every way imaginable, but you weren’t buying it.  You just stood there while I begged you to jump.  I even thought a little reverse psychology might work.  I said, “Well, if you don’t want to jump, then lets go play in the shallow end forget the deep end with the big kids.” That didn’t work.  You happily walked away from the deep end to go play on the steps in the shallow end.

So we swam and played in your “comfort zone” for a while longer then we went back to the deep end to give it another try.  This time you agreed, but not without setting some rules. You told me exactly where to stand, to grab your hands as soon as you jumped into the water, and to not let you stay under too long. A lot of necessary preparation, but it was worth it.  You jumped.   The look on your face when you came up from under the water was pure excitement!  You giggled and said, “Again, Again!” And you jumped off the edge again, and again and again until you were not afraid anymore.    

Amelia, as you grow, every new challenge you conquer is preparing you to navigate life’s uncharted territory.  My advice – don’t let fear get a hold of you. Step out of your comfort zone.   Remember, it’s better to be a lion for a day than a sheep all your life.  Yes, life can be scary.  You will have to take chances without knowing the outcome. And that’s o.k.  You should live your life fearlessly never afraid to follow your passion. 

And each time you take a chance and succeed, you are sure to experience that same feeling of excitement and accomplishment as you did when you jumped off the side of that pool for the first time.  And by the way, that quality you have “thinking before your act” will serve you well.  You should always try to be prepared and have a plan.

And as your spiritual awareness awakens, please remember to listen to the voice of your soul. It is now that the needs, yearnings and feelings of your spiritual inner self should emerge. On your life’s journey, you should always seek meaning, fulfillment, connection, and inspiration.   There is no doubt that you possess the courage, the confidence and the intelligence you will need to dive headfirst into the pool of life. And if you ever have doubt or your courage starts to waiver, don’t worry.  You are a lucky young lady – you are loved.  Few things are more beautiful in life than having family and friends that love you.  People that support and care about you.  Your Mom and Dad love you so much – we will always be in the deep end ready to catch you”. 

But of course the star of the day was Amelia. Posed, smiling, if she had a moment of nerves it never showed.  Standing before us a beautiful young woman who analyses and thinks about all the options before moving forward and willing to embracing a world of opportunities. She didn’t miss a beat. Her Hebrew chanting of her Torah portion was impeccable and her dissertation of its meaning was delivered with equal perfection.

“My Torah portion, Acherei Mot, is mainly about the rules that guide us to be the person God says we should be. Some years, it is combined with another portion called Kedoshim which is the holiness code. The Torah says “you shall be holy, for I the lord your God am holy”. These laws were given to us so we could form a holy, thriving society of individuals with similar standards. There are 613 laws in the Torah (the most popular being the Ten Commandants.)  Laws are an essential way of life, and without them many things could go wrong or become dangerous, and there would be no order.  It’s important to remember that the whole purpose of all the laws is to do acts of kindness and make peace with one another. 

This portion of the Torah starts with a story of Moses’ brother, Aaron, whose sons had died in a mysterious fire for not following a law correctly.  Why do we need to have these laws that lead us to be holy? Is it to go to wherever you go to follow God and that’s all?  The reality of being holy is not just saying that you are involved in a religion. Being holy is being a good person with morals, and being involved in society by helping others. This has taught me that even though helping people may sometimes not seem like it is the most important thing at the moment, in Gods eyes, it is always the most important. 

I started studying Hebrew almost exactly one year ago. When I began learning Hebrew, I didn’t know how to read or speak it at all. I started with learning the letters then how to read, and eventually I was able to do what I’m doing today.

What also makes my Bat Mitzvah important is my mitzvah project, As a teen ambassador with an organization, C3 For Change, I raised nearly $5,000 for breast cancer research.  The money will support the research efforts of Dr. Jean J. Latimer at Nova Southeastern University’s new Cell Therapy Institute.  This project hits close to home for me since my family has a history of breast cancer – my great grandmother was diagnosed when she was 60 years old, and my grandmother and aunt are survivors both living cancer–free for over ten years. In May 2015, my mom was diagnosed with a rare form of breast cancer.  She is thriving and doing well thanks to the marvels of modern medicine.  My goal is to continue to support breast cancer research and awareness – next focusing on an educational outreach project.    I’m working on a children’s book that will educate young students about cancer through the tale of a healthy human cell called “CeCe the Cell.” 

On this special day, I want to thank my family and friends for helping and encouraging me at all times, my Rabbi and Cantor for re-introducing Hebrew into my life, my Nana and Papa for making my lessons a priority, and my parents for guiding me through my bat mitzvah. My Mom and Dad have always supported me whenever I try something new and they both know how to motivate me to do my best.  I’m thankful that I can always count on them to be there for me.  I Love you both!

Thank you everyone for coming to my service, I appreciate
 all of you and I’m grateful for your support.  Shabbat Shalom”

It goes without saying that such a milestones as this requires a good party to celebrate such an achievement.  Off we went to get prepared for the big night and what a great event it was.

The Bat Mitzvah Party was held at the Sea Ranch Lakes Beach Club, a lovely venue on the ocean.

Before the festivities got into full swing
Amelia called up family and friends to light the ceremonial 13 candles. Each candle was accompanied by a special poem.

It was quite the party. The day before Ari made his special marinade for the rib eye steaks that were served. They were delicious as was all the food that Toni Lampasone from Wine Watch prepared.

It was wonderful seeing Amelia with all of her friends just having a grand time.

So many special memories of this wonderful day and evening. I hope to add more pictures as I receive them.

Bertha was about 9 years old when her mother and father sent her from Zhitomir to Lodz Poland. Their reason was to keep her out of harms way because pogroms were frequent and also so she could learn a trade.  Bertha’s sister Naomi who was perhaps 14 years old at the time had previously been sent to Lodz and was in charge of looking after her.

The sisters lived in a Boarding House School environment where they learned how to sew, cook, clean and do laundry. Yiddish was the common language but Bertha also knew Russian and Polish and could speak, read and write in all three.

It happened that after Bertha’s apprenticeships she was hired as governess to the children of a wealthy Jewish family and had the opportunity to meet many young men, one of whom she became engaged too. I have never been sure if her engagement pictures was on the occasion of her engagement to that young man or to our grandfather.  Not long after they were engaged Bertha’s fiance arranged for her to meet his mother.  The meeting did not go well. The young man’s mother according to grandma was a large, gross women who took an instant dislike to grandma.  When his mother was leaving she spoke to her son in Polish, thinking grandma wouldn’t understand. “You want to marry this? She looks like a consumptive”.

Bertha would not put up with such a insult and she new full well that with a mother-in-law like that her life would be miserable. She broke off the engagement. Her young man of course was heart broken.

At the same time of Bertha’s breakup with her fiance Meyer returned to Lodz from Vienna. His arrival created quite a stir in the Jewish Community. Everyone was talking about him. He was educated in Vienna in the art of couture, had the appearance  of a man of the world and cut a fine figure.  Meyer also happened to be the friend of the young man Bertha was engaged to and the friend entreated Meyer to go to Bertha and plead his case.

Bertha agreed to meet with Meyer and the night before their meeting she had a strange dream.  She found herself in a room with a slight elegant women dressed in black wearing a black bonnet tied with a bow, her hands resting on a beautiful walking stick. In the dream the women said “You will never regret marrying my son”. That was the whole dream.

The next day Meyer came calling to plead his friends case.  Bertha told him what had happened and nothing was resolved so Meyer asked if he could talk to her again about the matter.  She agreed.  On his way out Meyer left a picture face down on the entry table. It was a picture of his mother Caroline. When Bertha picked it up and looked at it, it was the same women, dressed and posed exactly the same way as in her dream.

A very fast courtship ensued. In less then a month of their meeting they were married.

The story goes they had quite the wedding and immediately after grandpa hired a carriage and they headed for Warsaw where grandma’s parents now lived.  It was rumored they left in such a hurry because Grandpa who had made all the wedding arrangements skipped out on the bills. They did not stay in Warsaw long. Grandpa felt his talents were better served on a larger stage, Next stop London. England.

Kromolow where we believed grandpa was born is about 108 miles from Lodz.   Zhitomor to Lodz is a little over 486 miles. and from Lodz to Warsaw about 81 miles.

The evening of Friday, August 7th was very special. We were at our cousin’s David and Collie Rice’s. They lived on the edge of Old Town in a very cool apartment on the nearish North side nearish to the Lake in Chicago. I just remember it was a great evening. I just remember that I settled down to sleep about 1:30 A.M. and in the next few minutes I was on my way with your father to Saint Luke’s Presbyterian.

Just about 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning August 8, 1964 you came into this world. You, who had grown beneath my heart and who were so known but unknown. You who put me out of my skin now had me dealing with a new skin. You who forced me to realize I needed to close doors and open new ones. You who made me realize I would never, ever have all the answers and would never ever get it right, and would never ever love someone as I loved you, because you were my first born and the first miracle.

So there you were with 10 little fingers and 10 little toes.

Sleepy eyes a button nose.

And a rose bud mouth that roared like a lion.

I can tell you my darling you were pretty damn try’n.

I did not have a clue. You came with no map or operating manual. Dr. Spock was the best we had.  Like he knew anything? And of course mama knew things but then you know mama. Well maybe somethings but.. seriously..  Your first 2 months I cried a lot. I was a complete failure as a mother. I didn’t understand you and you didn’t understand me. Then one evening when David and Collie came over and we were playing some silly card game and I had you in a infant seat by my side and I turned to see how you were doing and you garbed my little finger and smiled and that was the end all and be all of the Universe. It was the biggest, most magical smile that ever was. I thought my heart would bust.  It is a perfect moment in time frozen in my minds eye.

You gave me some terrifying moments. The bout of pneumonia, the raisin up your nose, the nickle you swallowed that got stuck in your esophagus, the terrible bouts of asthma you suffered.

You have given me many more wonderful moments.  You are the child that when we lived on the Philadelphia Main Line in Villanova had parents ask me “Can you imagine living with that child”? They didn’t know I was your mother.  You did this fantastic routine at a school assembly impersonating Jimmy Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. You strolled out on the stage like you owned the place and stole the show. It gave me great satisfaction to say to these parents “Yes I can imagine, he’s my son”. You are the child that put on productions. Performed a whole Christmas Play that you made up with you as Gandolph and Kevin I think was Frodo. You even did the makeup.  I am convinced you could/can be a great Producer/Director/Diplomat/Legislator/Governor/President.

You are the child who at 3 on a scorching Florida high humidity day insisted on wearing Corduroy jeans with a long sleeve turtleneck because as you ran your sweaty palms down those pants announced “I have to wear slacks cause I’m a Slacker”.  OK.. What ever you say. And the kid that with his buddy John Hanan played with fire and brought the Bay Harbor Island Police and Fire Departments to our front door.  You are the boy who had to wear a hat. For awhile it was a Pith Helmet you just had to have from F.A.O. Schwatz in Bal Harbour earning you the name of Safari Ari.  You are the child that took to tennis like a duck to water. I loved to watch you play. You are the boy figuring his way though outrageously over priced boy cloths at Bambie’s NY announcing he wanted arroz con pollo  for dinner and then patiencely explaining it was just chicken and rice Spanish style to the gentleman you had blown away at the shop when he ask you if you even knew what that was.  You are the boy that would not stand for being ignored by the saleswomen at Gucci’s. You did get her attention and you did buy that key chain. No sales person at Gucci’s ever ignored you after that.

You were the one that taught your brother Kevin good manners.  At least that’s what Kevin, then 4, told a man when the man asked him where he learned such nice manners after Kevin complimented him on the watermelon he was carrying. Kevin said “Oh my brother Ari teaches me my good manners”.

I never had to tell you to clean your room. You always wanted everything in good order. You held your first dinner party before you were 8 and you did all the cooking, I just helped a little with the prep.  Once when we were living at Tahoe I was very ill and had not been able to eat for several days. When I finally was able to lift my head up,  you came into my room with a perfect Grand Marnier Souffle.  I never have had one any better. You have become an accomplished chef, connoisseur of fine wines, excellent host and some of my greatest joy is cooking with you.

You have grown up to be a wonderful man. People gravitate to you.  You have always had this aura that makes people want to be around you.  Perhaps it is your style and grace or perhaps your diplomacy. Maybe it’s the smile or the impeccable turn of the cuff, cut of the suit, the stories you tell, the charm you exude or your sense of humor and those terrible rude, crude yet hilarious moments you do to entertain and anyone else could never get away with. I watch you from a distance as a parent. I am blown away. You’re my kid. How did I get to be so lucky?

Mostly now I watch you in your roll of father. I knew you would be the best when I was showing you how to bath your 5 day old baby girl and she peed on you and you said “Isn’t that the most adorable thing you ever saw”?  The look of complete love and devotion as you beheld the miracle that was your child, wrapping her up in a towel and completely ignoring your wet shirt and pants. In that moment what I saw was the most adorable moment of you. That was something because you have given me many adorable moments.

I have so many more wonderful memories of your childhood, your growing up and things that we have shared and all of the things you have taught me. So much to laugh over and some to cry over.  You have a kind, loving and steadfast heart.  I have never seen you give up on anyone.

You/We are celebrating your 50th year and thank God just from my corner of the planet I lived to celebrate this day.

Happiest of Birthdays darling child of mine.  May you have many, mamy more. All my Love Mom

Just a few special pics

It was somewhat of a family mystery as to how the surname Kromelow came about.  Not much is known about my Grandfather Meyer’s  family history.  My mother told me his parents were Irwin and Caroline and that a picture of her was instrumental in her parents courtship.  Meyer had several brothers who also emigrated to the United States, but I believe they changed their name to Lewis when they came here. To make matters more confusing Meyer was in business with one brother in London and supposedly they went by the surname of James during that time.

It is thanks to my cousin Hilary Joseph who reported that her father my Uncle Joe, told her that Kromolow was the name of Meyer’s hometown and that his real surname was Kifyatkovsky or perhaps spelled Kviatkovsky. She located a district of the city of Zawiercie in modern Poland that is named Kromolow (pronounced Kromowoff with the accent on the last syllable).  According to the website Kromolow is the oldest quarter of the city, and there is other information about synagogues and cemeteries indicating a Jewish presence. In 1847 the Warsaw-Vienna railway was completed. Zawiercie is very close to this important line, which led to rapid economic development. It is certain that the Warsaw-Vienna railway was how Meyer’s mother got him out of the clutches of the Tzar, out of Kromolow and sent him off to be educated in Vienna.

The picture is part of  the Yad Vashem Photo Archive » Kromolow, Poland, Maltreatment of Jews

Hilary’s research on migration generally, in connection with economic development in China, suggests that it is the middle class of a population which tends to migrate, those with resources and higher aspirations, not the poorest people and Meyer’s family fits this profile.

At another website, a search for Kromolow indicates that it was located in the Russian Empire before World War I and in Poland thereafter. The Yiddish pronunciation of the name is Krimilov.

It is not far fetched to assume that in their travels from Poland to England, using the name of Meyer’s home town as a surname was easier to use then his birth surname.  It is also easy to assume that immigration officials would have had an easier time pronouncing Kromolow as opposed to Kifyatkovsky.  The name still had a way to go to evolve as evidenced in the 1920  U.S. Census.

My thanks to my cousin Susan Kromelow for finding the last piece of information. It takes a family to dig up it’s roots.