Rosalind Dubrow

For Rozzie, with Love [This Eulogy is being presented on the Mt. Sinai website in lieu of an Obituary for Rosalind Dubrow. It will give you a more complete picture of and feeling for her amazing life. It was written and presented by Roz’s son Michael at her funeral on January 2, 2023. The funeral was held at Mt. Sinai Memorial Park in the Hollywood Hills. Rosalind Esther Byer was born on January 15, 1925 and passed on December 28, 2022. Rozzie was loved — and will be deeply missed — by all those who were blessed to know her.] In his song, “The Bells,” Leonard Cohen wrote: The birds they sang At the break of day. “Start again…” I heard them say Don\'t dwell on what has passed away — Or what is yet to be. Ring the bells that still can ring… Forget your perfect offering. For there is a crack, a crack in everything… That is how the light gets in. In a similar vein, Ernest Hemingway reminded us that: “The world breaks everyone, but afterward we are stronger in the broken places.” The life of Rosalind Esther Byer Dubrow — beloved mother to Diana, Nancy and me, treasured grandmother to Julien and Meagan, great grandmother to Jace — this life was also broken. But the special magic of Rozzie’s life was how kindly those broken places mended, and how much radiant light poured through those cracks. What was the special character of Rosalind’s light? We have all been touched by it, all warmed by it, haven’t we…time and again? In contemplating my mother’s long and incomparable life, I realize her light was special in three ways: First, it was utterly selfless. I have never in my 69 years met a more unselfish human being…a person more willing and eager to put others first. A woman whose greatest apparent joy was to see that others’ needs were met, that others had their hopes and dreams fulfilled. The truth is, her own cup was only filled when those around her were satisfied. Some part of her always ached if the person she cared for was somehow incomplete, whether it was a material or emotional want. The second way Rozzie’s light was so special is that it was always kind. Her kindness was legendary; her encouragement to others, constant and fulsome. Maya Angelou wrote: “I\'ve learned that people will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.” And our darling mother always helped you feel better about yourself, better about your life…better about tomorrow. Her kindness was like the sunrise. It always came, it always warmed you, it always made things brighter. The third special quality of mom’s light was the childlike joy it shone on everyday moments…that precious innocence and wide-eyed appreciation she brought to simple things. For example, Roz never served you simple cantaloupe for breakfast. It was always a “lovely” cantaloupe. If a friend or family member had some good news to share, Roz wouldn’t just be happy for them; she would openly “kvell” for them. And then, of course, she couldn’t wait to tell others this good news…even if the person she was now sharing it with didn’t know that friend or family member. Roz wanted to share the joy in any case. Thus — as everyone in this room knows — Rozzie was selfless, kind and joyous. No one ever heard her say a negative or unkind thing about any other human being…with the possible exception of our last President. She would occasionally rail about him to me, simply because he was SO unkind. We’ll leave that story for another day, but it leads us to another of mom’s great qualities — her keen awareness of the larger world, and gift for communicating about it. On nearly every visit or phone call I had with her over decades — including the last call I made a few days before she passed, to wish her Happy Hannukah — we would discuss current events and politics, science and the arts. She watched the news at length every day and was incredibly well informed to the end of her life. I know my two sisters would speak often to her about spiritual topics, including eastern religion and philosophy. Over the last twenty years of her life — to keep her body limber and strong — Mom practiced Qi Gong almost daily, which is a form of Chinese exercise and healing. And Nancy helped mom become a pet lover, so it wasn’t unusual to come to mom’s house and find one or more of Nancy’s beloved dogs at her feet. Clearly, Rozzie had very broad interests and always loved to learn and experience new things. Her keen and curious mind kept performing at an incredibly high level for nearly a century! In her 40s through 60s — while working full time — she worked passionately and effectively, along with Fritzi, to raise funds for City of Hope. In fact, the Chapter they formed, which Fritzi was President of, routinely earned high honors and awards. Then, in her 70’s, Roz enrolled in many fascinating classes at Every Woman’s Village, where she then worked part-time as a volunteer. Those course offerings ranged from women’s assertiveness training and art therapy to clairvoyance and creative writing! Still going strong — like the Energizer Bunny — in her 80’s she joined the Northridge Rotary Club! Can you imagine?! While there, she successfully organized teams of women knitting afghans for wounded veterans. And through her mid-90’s — just before the pandemic struck — there she was, driving her silver Cadillac all over the San Fernando Valley — she never drove freeways! — to pick up friends and family in their 80s and 90s to chauffeur them to the beauty parlor or medical appointments. What a wonderful, seamless job mom did of combining service to others with joy! Roz always knew, better than anyone I’ve ever met, how to enjoy the simple moments…to call out and cherish the ordinary miracles of daily life. Of course, someone who shared that gift — and was a prime beneficiary of Rozzie’s chauffeur service for many years — was her closest friend and beloved younger sister, Fritzelah. Wife to our dear uncle George and mother to our treasured cousins Larry, Bruce and Carol, my aunt Fritzi was — like her sister Roz — one of a kind…unique in all the world. Also incredibly kind and generous, but with an always-youthful charm and twinkle, Fritzi and mom were like the Golden Girls version of Batman and Robin. Like peas and carrots, they were perfect together, and sometimes it seemed to us that they always were together! It was part of the family lore that, even after spending a whole afternoon together having lunch or going to the movies, they would call each other later that night and kibbitz some more. I guess this proves that it truly is impossible to have too much of a good thing. And while all of us grieve today at the passing of Rozzie — at how much poorer our lives have suddenly become — we know that she and Fritzi, that dynamic duo — have been reunited in a state free from all pains of the body and ravages of time. We can take joy in picturing them together right now, hair perfectly coiffed and nails gleaming — fresh from the great beauty parlor in the sky — sharing animated conversation and exchanging good news about others on earth and in heaven. Because in both venues, Roz and Fritzie’s deepest pleasure, their truest “nachhus” has always originated in the joy of others. They both started life in a big, loving, music-filled house near the shores of Lake Ontario in upstate New York, with brothers Harold and Billy, and sisters Marsha and Miriam. Their parents, Anna Forman and Abraham Byer were born in Poland and migrated to the United States when very young, to escape the Pogroms — as had hundreds of thousands of other eastern European Jews at the turn of the 19th century. Abe launched a Watertown furniture store that became locally famous for the kindly Jewish owner who gave credit to downtrodden families in the Great Depression, welcomed people of every ethnicity and religion, and who donated precious dollars to the United Negro College fund — a very progressive act in that era. In 1938, Abe decided to sell his furniture store and move his family to California. This migration happened piecemeal, and on a late spring morning that year, thirteen yearold Roz stood on the platform of the Watertown train station, comforting ten year-old Fritzi. Alone, they made the three-day journey to the welcoming arms of their mother and a new life in Los Angeles. There, early in the next decade, the two found husbands — the startlingly handsome Harold and George — and soon began their families. [Did any of you ever see the photos of George on the wall at Fritzi’s…He’s on Muscle Beach in Venice, I think, with his little speedo bathing suit doing the Jack LaLanne pose. Fantastic! Of course Hal never looked like George in a bathing suit…But he had that Tony Curtis movie star handsomeness with his dark, wavy hair and hazel-green eyes. The four of them were real lookers in their time, and you can tell they were crazy about each other! You can see why there was no difficulty producing offspring in the Dubrow and Gassin families! Well, Roz and Hal moved back east to start their family after the war. And we should take a moment to acknowledge all the World War II veterans in our family: My dad and George, Uncles Billy, Harold and Siggy, along with men from the Fishers and Formans as well…These men who volunteered to fight, and the women who supported them — and who kept the American economy humming in the first half of the 1940’s — they were indeed the Greatest Generation we have ever known in this country. They survived the Depression and fought a World War on two fronts, to preserve democracy and to later ensure that their children and grandchildren had better lives than they had enjoyed. Think of how much we owe to them….For me personally, one of the greatest tragedies of mom’s passing, is that SHE is MY last, living link to this Greatest Generation. It is indeed, the passing of an entire era. And the whole world is poorer for their passing… So it’s 1945, and Hal brings Roz home to Allentown, where he was raised and his parents, Sam and Pauline were still living. My sisters and I were all born there between 1947 and 1953 —but the family moves back to LA in 1958, where we were greeted by Roz’s large and welcoming family. Waiting there were Anna and Abe, of course, plus enterprising brothers Bill and Harold, musician-sister Merke, and her husband, the dashing fireman, Ben Gerson. Close relationships grew quickly with members of the Fisher and Forman families, who jointly formed the Cousins Club. Other beloved family members included Marsha Choyke and, later on, Jeanie Byer, Bill’s wonderful and hilariously profane second wife after the sad passing of our dear Aunt Evy. Hal’s only brother, the irrepressible Siggy, brought his family to live briefly in California during the early 1960s. Both there, and later in New Jersey, Siggy and his beautiful wife Marion raised three children — Mark, Dennis and Buff — who have always been our treasured cousins. Of course, Roz was always deeply drawn to Hal’s amazing parents, who moved to California shortly after we did. And it’s impossible to describe how close my sisters and I always were with these lively and loving grandparents. As life in Los Angeles unfolded, famous friendships arose for Roz and Hal with Moe and Janet Cohen, and the renewal of a treasured older friendship with Claire and Eddie Mozes. Eddie was Hal’s best friend from Allentown before the war, and along with Aunt Claire, became a true uncle to us. Their children, Jackie, Larry and Gail remain close to our family, and are beloved cousins today. As most of you know, Roz was not only a loving wife and mother, she was a successful career woman as well. During the Second World War she was a key administrator to a company that manufactured essential war materials. And later — as her children grew older — mom was an executive secretary to the CEO of a large Valley company. Even while a working mom, Roz found time to nourish her children. One of my own clearest memories is of mom staying up into the wee hours of the morning typing my school essays that were due the next day, with me barking changes as I pored over my almost unreadable notes. I had a political bent in those days, and recall her helping to hand-manufacture materials I needed when running for Student Body President in the 6th and 9th grades. One item was a little Rocket-shaped campaign button that said Rocket Me to Victory! We made hundreds of them. Without question, mom helped rocket me to victory both in those elections, and throughout my life. I know each of my sisters has her own favorite stories of mom’s love and support. With her kind heart and winning personality, Roz made innumerable friends throughout her life, including those she loved to play bridge and pan with. One of her closest friends in recent years is Sandy Kaplan, who blessedly survives mom today. I lovingly acknowledge all these people — and so many more — family and friends who made Roz’s life, and our family’s life, in Los Angeles meaningful. In turn, I know Roz touched each of their lives with her trademark grace, warmth and humanity. Sadly, most of these souls are gone now. But together, they are enriched by mom’s arrival this week in the heavenly realms. And while we are all grief-struck by her passing, we can only celebrate the robust length and remarkable course of her life, the richness with which she appreciated every day of it, and the profoundly beautiful impact she had on everyone who was blessed to know her. We have come together today, in love and friendship, to console one another on the gaping hole we now find in each of our heart — that place our beloved Rosalind used to occupy. That special terrain of kindness, innocence, generosity and joy…that sacred garden of goodness and good will to every sentient being. We have come together to say goodbye to one of the immortals of human kindness. So goodbye, dearest mother of my heart. And Godspeed on your journey into the very heart of timeless love.