Bernard Axelrad Scholarship Fund

When I was three years old my mother's parents arrived from Europe. They came with their three youngest children (to join the eight who preceded them to America) and settled within two blocks of us on the Lower East Side. From then on my childhood and teen years were spent in the midst of a large, active extended family.

As a pre-schooler I made the almost daily trip with my mother to shop for and visit with my new-found grandparents and my aunts and uncle. Being able to converse with them in Yiddish enabled me to be their guide to America, or that portion of it embodied in the Lower East Side.

To the dismay of my two young aunts, 16 and 18, I introduced them as my "greener tantes" to all the pushcart peddlers along Avenue C, and 65 years later they still remind me of that slight!

He called Yetta, Ida his 'greener tantes'

I sat on the lap of my Uncle David, only about seven years older than me, and played with his huge ears, which he tolerated most good-naturedly.

My aunts Yetta and Ida would feed me, regaling me with stories of their life in the "shtetl" to distract me into opening my mouth wider for a spoonful of warm oatmeal.

Every Sunday most of my ten aunts and uncles congregated al my grandparents' for a cabbage soup meal and interminable conversation in Yiddish. I loved being around all my adult relatives and as the only child in their midst I garnered a lot of attention and plaudits.

Never did I see them quarrel or compete with one another. It was a simpler time, with everyone being a newcomer in a strange land trying to make ends meet and shed their immigrant status. They really cared and were mutually supportive.

Every Saturday evening I eagerly awaited the picturesque Havdallah after three stars signaled the end of Sabbath. In almost complete darkness my grandfather would light the many-colored, twisted candle, make the necessary blessing over the wine and pass on to this four-year-old the fragrant spices in their metal container to sniff and, after dousing the lit candle in some of the poured wine, I finished off the rest.

Swaying in the flickering candle light to my grandfather's intonations of the blessings - with my mother, grandmother, aunts and uncle around me - I felt good.

Afterwards I looked forward to playing dominos with my taciturn but revered grandfather. He never said much and I felt comfortable in his benign presence.

(It was during those dominos games that I noted his two little fingers curled against his palm; they could not be pried open. Little did I realize that I would "inherit" his Dupuytrens Contracture for which I recently had surgery.)

The Passover Seders at my grandparents' was the big event for the family. The apartment bulged with aunts, uncles, spouses and cousins, and somehow we all managed to fit into this rather small space in a later day miracle of Passover. When my turn came to ask the Four Questions, for which I had assiduously prepared weeks in advance, I proudly seized the opportunity to perform before the family assemblage.

I competed with my young cousins to find the hidden afikomen because I knew my grandfather would pay the price to redeem it. When I did discover it first I asked for a set of chumashim (Five Books of Moses). It was a less materialistic age - a time for learning.

In those early days of my youth, every one of my relatives lived either within easy walking distance of us in The Lower East Side or a 5¢ bus or subway ride away.

My mother would not only be there to assist my grandparents but was also readily available for her brothers and sisters when needed. She would help her sundry siblings with their candy store, dress, hardware and butcher shops and care for their children in any emergency. It was truly an extended family with everyone supportive, warm and close to one another.

Growing up in that idyllic context I thought was the way all families interacted. It was much later that I learned otherwise. And in our family, too, things changed after my grandparents died and with the passing years. My aunts and uncles moved away to other areas and the warmth and closeness was not carried over to the second and third generation cousins.

With the passing of the unifying hub supplied by my grandparents, and as family members became more upwardly mobile, more Americanized, the old person touch was lost.

I feel fortunate that I savored the memorable experience.

Subscribing wholeheartedly to the concept of close family ties, I view the family as the integral societal unit. It is the glue which binds, and gives each family member the combined strength of all. In a hostile and alienated world, life is a little easier if there are supportive family members at hand.

All of these family feelings were cogently brought home to me by a recent visit from my beloved daughter, Lisa, who resides in Israel. Though her departure left a noticeable void, her five week visit was stimulating and uplifting for me as well as for her mother, grandparents, and two brothers here.

I genuinely relish being with my children. Unfortunately, two of my four children reside in Israel (as well as a lovely daughter-in-law and three grandchildren). Thus the times are rare when my immediate family are all in the same place at the same time.

Lisa's recent visit was especially gratifying.

She helped usher me through an unpleasant hand surgery. Amazingly, she made almost daily visits to two sets of nonagenarian grandparents (helping them with their shopping and other daily chores), was invariably available to her mother and her two brothers as well as me, and still managed to visit friends of her own.

Amazingly, she even found time for friends

Nobody felt left out including my wife, Lillian, with whom she has a marvelously healthy relationship; and, on all she left her special imprint.

From the time she got off the plane she made a smooth entry into our lives from her entirely different regimen in Israel - a feat made all the more remarkable by the infrequency of her visits. In no time we bridged the many months of separation and were engaged in personal and intimate questions and answers.

Between Lisa and me there are few secrets; and, knowing me so well, she frequently has been my goad and catalyst for needed action on my part.

Yes, we have areas of disagreement, but that's not a deterrent from candidly expressing our respective views.

At her suggestion Kevin, Adam, Lisa and I met for some open dialogue among ourselves to recollect, rehash and hopefully thrash out some unresolved intra-family issues of long ago. Not surprisingly, memories as well as viewpoints differed with respect commonly experienced events.

Adam, as the youngest sibling by far, learned of events that took place within his family during his very early years. As the still youngest but now an adult, he especially benefited from speaking up as an equal among his siblings.

Regrettably, my eldest son, Steve, was not present to partake of this family mosaic.

I particularly miss having my children around at the High Holidays, although I suspect that Steve and Lisa in Israel are just as happy to escape attending holiday religious services with their more observant father.

My children's genuine affection and devotion to each other, evidenced during Lisa's visit, gladdened my heart.

Some of my family feeling has been passed on to my progeny.