Monday, February 22, 2010
The Funeral Service (Audio)
Rabbi Bob Freedman
Rabbi Adam Feldman
Linda Oppenheim
Shoshana Silberman
Shmuel Silberman
Lisa Silberman Brenner
Gabe Silberman
Daniel Silberman Brenner
Rabbi Annie Tucker
The Grandchildren
Golf Memories by Jonah
One thing that was always fun was when Saba took us golfing. In the past few years Saba, Noam (my twin brother), and I after going golfing would go get smoothies. Saba taught me a lot and now I am good at golf! I remember when we (noam and I) didn't have good timing in our swing so Saba told us to sing Zipadee Doodah (I think that is how you spell it)to help us. Guess what? It worked..... kind of. I still couldn't get it, but Noam (still my brother) could. Eventually I did have good timing. This was one of the best memories I had with Mel Silberman (Saba).
Reflections from Yaakov Silberman
Saba was very generous. He gave me many presents and was always available to talk to. Some of my favorite things I did with Saba were going to a baseball game (the Phillies) and he came to Boston when my sister had surgery, and he took us to Chuck E. Cheese like twenty times!
Memories of Saba from Adira Silberman Brenner
This is a picture of Saba, me and Savta. I miss him so much. This picture is placed at my house in Montclair. Saba came to many of my soccer games and in this picture there is a soccer goal in the back.
I love him so much and I will never forget him.
Tribute from Al Silberman (Mel's brother)
While Mel and I had life styles 180 degrees aparts(our politics, our career paths, our religious observance) we were co equal partners in keeping our families together which is evident in the closeness of Lori and Carrie with Shmuel, Lisa and Gabe. One exception in our 180 degree difference -- we both loved golf.
We were co-partners in caring for dad during his illness and in our father's final months. In addition, his tenacity in battling his cancers for 13 years gave me the inspiration and encouragement to overcome my serious illness. In some ways Mel was sending me subliminal messages while I sick and he gave me the courage to get the care I needed.
We were co-partners in caring for dad during his illness and in our father's final months. In addition, his tenacity in battling his cancers for 13 years gave me the inspiration and encouragement to overcome my serious illness. In some ways Mel was sending me subliminal messages while I sick and he gave me the courage to get the care I needed.
Hesped from Daniel S. Brenner
For Mel
I asked Shoshana last night if it would be appropriate if I tried to capture the playful spirit of Mel in this eulogy. So before I speak in a more formal manner about Mel’s legacy, I want to reflect on a question:
What would a Mel-style Eulogy look like?
Mel was recognized internationally as one of the most creative educators of his generation. So I started to think: If Mel had the educational challenge of giving a eulogy, how would he transform the format?
He would envision a Jigsaw eulogy – every person go up to someone that they do not know and tell a piece of Mel’s story and then go to groups of four and then eight and then sixteen, until we are all one big puzzle of Mel’s life. Or he’d do a clothesline eulogy – we all line up from those who first met Mel in his hometown in Orange, New Jersey to those who first knew Mel from his beach house in Ocean Grove, New Jersey and get a chronological life story. Or we’d have a eulogy where we’d stand in a circle and all shout out words from our hearts to create a collage of Mel.
Things that made Mel happy:
Hanging out on the beach, especially in his deluxe blue mesh chair
lounger, listening to his ipod playing Mattisyahu.
Hitting a great tee shot on the golf course. Hitting a great approach shot on the golf course. Hitting a great putt.
Driving in his BMW MINI -- before the engine troubles.
Shooting the basketball in the driveway at the Linden Lane house.
Riding his bike on the boardwalk in ocean grove – once he got the comfort seat.
He loved his old dog Meg, and the new one, Scooter.
He liked the Chat and Nibble Café and Bistro Ole.
Dancing with Shoshana to anything from Motown.
He liked Italians and Italian food.
He loved the Philadelphia Eagles.
He liked walking by the canal in Princeton.
He liked ice cream, particularly chocolate ice cream.
Leading an amazing training session.
Telling stories from travels to Europe, India, and China.
He loved stretching out on the porch furniture with the New York Times and doing the crossword puzzle.
He loved wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals or a pair of comfortable jeans.
He liked the view in Croatia at the Dalmation Coast
Giving away ridiculous tzockes that were fun to use in training, like sunglasses or inflatable microphones.
Lying on the bed in Ocean Grove and watching something ridiculous like
“America’s Got Talent” with his grandchildren.
Drinking Iced Tea.
He loved the sound quality on his Bose Stereo.
He loved Broadway musicals – Showboat and South Pacific. And watching James Gandolfini in God of Carnage.
Planting things in the garden or helping Lisa figure
out what to plant in our flower beds.
The fact that at one point practically every male neighbor on the
block in Ocean Grove was named Dick.
He loved movies. He loved moronic comedies and well-crafted arts films.
He loved seeing the Taj Mahal.
He loved Tuna Melts.
He loved telling the story of the time when Gabe hid the afikomen in the tape slot of the VCR.
He loved the Old City in Jerusalem.
He loved Rachmaninoff’s vocalese, he loved B.B. King and he loved Shlomo Carlebach.
He loved going out for Pizza and taking us for a tour of his old neighborhood in Orange, New Jersey.
But more than any of these loves, were the loves that he had in his family. I officially entered into the family only fifteen years ago, so I was in a good position to see, as an outsider, what that meant.
Shoshana, Mel was crazy about you. He loved your sense of humor. He loved hearing you teach. He loved creating with you. He loved being a community builder with you. He loved hosting Passover Seders with you. He knew how hard it was for you to care for him through his illness. He loved that you were there to hold his hand in his last moments.
Shmuel,I know that your father’s spiritual path was deepened by your decision to embrace observance. I’ll never forget him dancing at your wedding, or celebrating at Yaakov’s bris or marveling at the ability that you and Sara had to weather Chana’s illness. He also knew deep down that your devotion to working with children with special needs was not simply a career, but a part of that spiritual path.
Lisa, I can never love you as much as your dad loved you, but I will try. He rejoiced when you received your doctorate and he loved watching you grow as a teacher, as a theater artist, and as a mom.
Gabe, your father had a rare calming spirit and an ability to connect to and listen to anyone. I know that he saw that spirit in you and I could see how happy he was that you had found a career that could utilize those gifts.
I was so incredibly lucky to be one of those people other than his wife and kids that Mel loved. But there are many others. Although he and his older brother Al never agreed on politics, I saw how he valued his extended family and drew joy as Al and Jane’s daughters, Lori and Carrie, pursued careers that focused on the written word and formed wonderful families with Jack and Omid. He loved the many times that the entire family got together.
Sara, I remember how thrilled he was to meet you and how excited he would be to go up to Boston to visit you. He loved your hamische spirit and valued those times that he got to speak with you quietly, away from the bountiful energy of your children.
Mel had love for friends, from his chavurah circles and from elsewhere, for colleagues, for thousands of students in his forty one years of teaching, for neighbors, for his doctors – there was never any prejudice in his heart, he could connect to anyone, from any background.
But I know that more than anyone, Mel got the greatest joy from his grandchildren.
Noam and Jonah – Saba loved your sense of humor, loved watching your talents develop, loved how you sang in shul and at the shabbes table, and loved watching you play sports. When we get to your bar mitzvahs we’ll do something special to honor Saba.
Adira – Saba loved how smart, outgoing, and caring you are. Every hug you gave him and time you talked to him on the phone made him smile. Saba was proud of you and loved watching you make Savta happy.
Ya’kov – Saba loved watching you grow-up to be the thoughtful, caring, and playful boy that you are. He was excited that you were interested in things he liked – like politics, sports, and singing. Most of all, though, he was impressed that you took on so much responsibility in your family. He was very proud of you.
Meir Simcha -- Saba loved you and thought that you were very special. He loved watching you grow up and learning how to be a real mensch.
Chana – Saba loved you and he loved talking to you and playing with you.
Mel’s death presents us all with a paradox.
Maimonides observes, “when his teacher dies, the
student tears his clothes until he reveals his heart, and the tear
remains forever.”
But we also learn that “Tzaddikim b’mitatam hayyim heim” – The righteous, in their death, are still alive.
Mel, you are gone and there is a tear that will remain forever. We can only pray that through acts of righteousness that we perform in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead that you spirit is still alive.
I asked Shoshana last night if it would be appropriate if I tried to capture the playful spirit of Mel in this eulogy. So before I speak in a more formal manner about Mel’s legacy, I want to reflect on a question:
What would a Mel-style Eulogy look like?
Mel was recognized internationally as one of the most creative educators of his generation. So I started to think: If Mel had the educational challenge of giving a eulogy, how would he transform the format?
He would envision a Jigsaw eulogy – every person go up to someone that they do not know and tell a piece of Mel’s story and then go to groups of four and then eight and then sixteen, until we are all one big puzzle of Mel’s life. Or he’d do a clothesline eulogy – we all line up from those who first met Mel in his hometown in Orange, New Jersey to those who first knew Mel from his beach house in Ocean Grove, New Jersey and get a chronological life story. Or we’d have a eulogy where we’d stand in a circle and all shout out words from our hearts to create a collage of Mel.
Things that made Mel happy:
Hanging out on the beach, especially in his deluxe blue mesh chair
lounger, listening to his ipod playing Mattisyahu.
Hitting a great tee shot on the golf course. Hitting a great approach shot on the golf course. Hitting a great putt.
Driving in his BMW MINI -- before the engine troubles.
Shooting the basketball in the driveway at the Linden Lane house.
Riding his bike on the boardwalk in ocean grove – once he got the comfort seat.
He loved his old dog Meg, and the new one, Scooter.
He liked the Chat and Nibble Café and Bistro Ole.
Dancing with Shoshana to anything from Motown.
He liked Italians and Italian food.
He loved the Philadelphia Eagles.
He liked walking by the canal in Princeton.
He liked ice cream, particularly chocolate ice cream.
Leading an amazing training session.
Telling stories from travels to Europe, India, and China.
He loved stretching out on the porch furniture with the New York Times and doing the crossword puzzle.
He loved wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals or a pair of comfortable jeans.
He liked the view in Croatia at the Dalmation Coast
Giving away ridiculous tzockes that were fun to use in training, like sunglasses or inflatable microphones.
Lying on the bed in Ocean Grove and watching something ridiculous like
“America’s Got Talent” with his grandchildren.
Drinking Iced Tea.
He loved the sound quality on his Bose Stereo.
He loved Broadway musicals – Showboat and South Pacific. And watching James Gandolfini in God of Carnage.
Planting things in the garden or helping Lisa figure
out what to plant in our flower beds.
The fact that at one point practically every male neighbor on the
block in Ocean Grove was named Dick.
He loved movies. He loved moronic comedies and well-crafted arts films.
He loved seeing the Taj Mahal.
He loved Tuna Melts.
He loved telling the story of the time when Gabe hid the afikomen in the tape slot of the VCR.
He loved the Old City in Jerusalem.
He loved Rachmaninoff’s vocalese, he loved B.B. King and he loved Shlomo Carlebach.
He loved going out for Pizza and taking us for a tour of his old neighborhood in Orange, New Jersey.
But more than any of these loves, were the loves that he had in his family. I officially entered into the family only fifteen years ago, so I was in a good position to see, as an outsider, what that meant.
Shoshana, Mel was crazy about you. He loved your sense of humor. He loved hearing you teach. He loved creating with you. He loved being a community builder with you. He loved hosting Passover Seders with you. He knew how hard it was for you to care for him through his illness. He loved that you were there to hold his hand in his last moments.
Shmuel,I know that your father’s spiritual path was deepened by your decision to embrace observance. I’ll never forget him dancing at your wedding, or celebrating at Yaakov’s bris or marveling at the ability that you and Sara had to weather Chana’s illness. He also knew deep down that your devotion to working with children with special needs was not simply a career, but a part of that spiritual path.
Lisa, I can never love you as much as your dad loved you, but I will try. He rejoiced when you received your doctorate and he loved watching you grow as a teacher, as a theater artist, and as a mom.
Gabe, your father had a rare calming spirit and an ability to connect to and listen to anyone. I know that he saw that spirit in you and I could see how happy he was that you had found a career that could utilize those gifts.
I was so incredibly lucky to be one of those people other than his wife and kids that Mel loved. But there are many others. Although he and his older brother Al never agreed on politics, I saw how he valued his extended family and drew joy as Al and Jane’s daughters, Lori and Carrie, pursued careers that focused on the written word and formed wonderful families with Jack and Omid. He loved the many times that the entire family got together.
Sara, I remember how thrilled he was to meet you and how excited he would be to go up to Boston to visit you. He loved your hamische spirit and valued those times that he got to speak with you quietly, away from the bountiful energy of your children.
Mel had love for friends, from his chavurah circles and from elsewhere, for colleagues, for thousands of students in his forty one years of teaching, for neighbors, for his doctors – there was never any prejudice in his heart, he could connect to anyone, from any background.
But I know that more than anyone, Mel got the greatest joy from his grandchildren.
Noam and Jonah – Saba loved your sense of humor, loved watching your talents develop, loved how you sang in shul and at the shabbes table, and loved watching you play sports. When we get to your bar mitzvahs we’ll do something special to honor Saba.
Adira – Saba loved how smart, outgoing, and caring you are. Every hug you gave him and time you talked to him on the phone made him smile. Saba was proud of you and loved watching you make Savta happy.
Ya’kov – Saba loved watching you grow-up to be the thoughtful, caring, and playful boy that you are. He was excited that you were interested in things he liked – like politics, sports, and singing. Most of all, though, he was impressed that you took on so much responsibility in your family. He was very proud of you.
Meir Simcha -- Saba loved you and thought that you were very special. He loved watching you grow up and learning how to be a real mensch.
Chana – Saba loved you and he loved talking to you and playing with you.
Mel’s death presents us all with a paradox.
Maimonides observes, “when his teacher dies, the
student tears his clothes until he reveals his heart, and the tear
remains forever.”
But we also learn that “Tzaddikim b’mitatam hayyim heim” – The righteous, in their death, are still alive.
Mel, you are gone and there is a tear that will remain forever. We can only pray that through acts of righteousness that we perform in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead that you spirit is still alive.
Hesped from Gabriel Silberman
For Abba
Abba was the best father I could have ever hoped for, as I can never remember a time - even a split second that he disappointed me. From my earliest memories he was my "Superman" an indestructible force that I could always count on to protect me. When I was little, I remember resting on his stomach and feeling so safe and so comfortable. As I grew older, Abba was always there for me, again, I can't recall a time that he wasn't. I was always proud of him and he seemed to figure out a solution for every problem.
He told me stories that inspired and entertained me. My favorite one was a true account that involved him trying out for the basketball team at school: While certainly not the most gifted athlete and with his parents forbidding him from playing sports (due to a heart murmur), he still made the team because the coach was impressed with the hustle he displayed while stealing the ball. This type of zest for life never waned, as I can recall some many poignant examples: his passion for singing (in Chavurah services and in the La Shir choir), his pursuit of "Active Training" ( using his ideas and techniques for engaging the learner) his love for the family and friends, and of course his will to endure stage IV lung cancer for 13 years!
My Abba was not only the best Dad, he was a close friend that I could talk to about anything, even during the most difficult of times. Again, he was there to help and direct me in all aspects of life. I recall while still ravaged with cancer, Abba's immense assistance in helping me complete my Master's Thesis. He would not allow me to procrastinate or fail as so many do in this juncture of life.
Abba never asked anything in return for all the love and passion he gave out. He only desired the best for friends and family. Abba is the definition of altruism and unselfishness. I want to thank Imma, the best mom in the world for all her love and devotion during these difficult years. Imma all of us - ( we will be there for you and we love you!
While I am grateful for all the years he defied the odds (and lived long enough to seeand love 6 grandchildren), he was taken too early for such a great and loving man. The void in my heart is so vast: I miss and I love my Abba!
Abba was the best father I could have ever hoped for, as I can never remember a time - even a split second that he disappointed me. From my earliest memories he was my "Superman" an indestructible force that I could always count on to protect me. When I was little, I remember resting on his stomach and feeling so safe and so comfortable. As I grew older, Abba was always there for me, again, I can't recall a time that he wasn't. I was always proud of him and he seemed to figure out a solution for every problem.
He told me stories that inspired and entertained me. My favorite one was a true account that involved him trying out for the basketball team at school: While certainly not the most gifted athlete and with his parents forbidding him from playing sports (due to a heart murmur), he still made the team because the coach was impressed with the hustle he displayed while stealing the ball. This type of zest for life never waned, as I can recall some many poignant examples: his passion for singing (in Chavurah services and in the La Shir choir), his pursuit of "Active Training" ( using his ideas and techniques for engaging the learner) his love for the family and friends, and of course his will to endure stage IV lung cancer for 13 years!
My Abba was not only the best Dad, he was a close friend that I could talk to about anything, even during the most difficult of times. Again, he was there to help and direct me in all aspects of life. I recall while still ravaged with cancer, Abba's immense assistance in helping me complete my Master's Thesis. He would not allow me to procrastinate or fail as so many do in this juncture of life.
Abba never asked anything in return for all the love and passion he gave out. He only desired the best for friends and family. Abba is the definition of altruism and unselfishness. I want to thank Imma, the best mom in the world for all her love and devotion during these difficult years. Imma all of us - ( we will be there for you and we love you!
While I am grateful for all the years he defied the odds (and lived long enough to seeand love 6 grandchildren), he was taken too early for such a great and loving man. The void in my heart is so vast: I miss and I love my Abba!
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