Isaaco was almost four
when his parents fled Italy in 1939. His parents had moved from Poland to Milan
15 years earlier when his father was given a coveted post as cantor of the Sefardic
synagogue. The family’s years in Milan had been idyllic, but then Mussolini
came to power, and everything changed. Isaaco was the youngest of three children, and he was close with his sister Hinda and his brother David. They came to America by boat with no friends and no
knowledge of English. There was no use complaining; they were happy to get out
of Europe alive. Isaaco became Isaac, and he integrated successfully into American society. He went to
college and got a degree in education. He was drafted into the National Guard
and got up early in the morning to put on his tefillin and say his prayers. He’d trade any non-kosher rations for
an extra loaf of bread. Isaac Kinek married Shirley, a wonderful woman, and they
settled in Baltimore. They had two adorable little girls, whom he treated with
love and devotion, infusing them with Jewish values and speaking Yiddish at
every opportunity. Isaac became an accomplished special educator and
administrator in the public school system.Despite
his success, he never forgot what it was like to be a refugee. He was always on
the lookout for any down-and-out refugee who might wander into shul. The
Yiddish of his youth came in handy since many people coming from Russia or the
FSU spoke no English, but the older ones remembered the Yiddish they were
raised with.
Isaac’s
mantra in forging new relationships was: “Fun vannen kumt ah Yid? Where
does a Jew come from?” The refugees appreciated the unexpected attention and
concern. They couldn't get over this soft-spoken man with perfect Yiddish who
showered them with affection and showed them how to pray and put on tefillin, things that were unheard of
for people brought up as Communists.
Isaac
began driving these new friends to doctor appointments and provided critical
translations, which ensured the proper treatment and medication. He invited the
refugees over for Shabbat and holiday meals. He drove them around on Sunday
trips to see the countryside and pretend they were on a fancy vacation.
One day,
one of them called Isaac and asked him to come to the house right away. Isaac
got nervous and rushed over, only to find that the man had gathered his friends
in the living room just to meet this Yiddish-speaking American who helped
others. Isaac was so embarrassed at his sudden celebrity.
Isaac’s
now-grown daughters, who have families of their own, are proud of their father
and the kindness and care he gave to others. But there were kindnesses Isaac
never revealed to his girls. That changed when Isaac passed away on Shabbat
after battling a three-month illness.
Right
after his passing, Isaac’s wife revealed a secret that he never wanted anyone
to know. She told her two daughters, one of whom is my lovely wife. Here’s the
rest of the story:
My
father-in-law would always go food shopping with Mom. One day he got extra
eggs, bread, and milk. There was no hiding anything from Mom. “Isaac, why are
you getting more than we need?”
He explained
that Sasha, one of the refugees, was undernourished. He didn't have enough to
eat, so Dad wanted to help him out. She was immediately on board, proud that
her husband was so caring.
“But I
don’t want to give him a handout,” Isaac explained. “I don’t want to embarrass
him.”
“So what
will you do?”
Dad was
lost in thought. At last, a solution formed in his mind that his wife approved.
Mr. Isak
(no relation), a Holocaust survivor, was the sexton of the shul Dad went to.
One of his jobs was to arrange the food for shalosh
seudos served at the synagogue. It was simple fare.
Dad
brought the food before Shabbat and told Mr. Isak to keep it in the fridge over
Shabbos. After Shabbos was over, Mr. Isak approached Sasha on cue, and said,
“Sasha, we have extra food leftover. Can you do me a favor and take it?”
It
worked like a charm. Sasha was overjoyed with the windfall. “How will I get
this home?”
“I'll
drive you,” said Dad to Sasha, with a surreptitious wink at Mr. Isak.
This
went on for years, with Sasha never wondering why the shul consistently
overbought food. Mission accomplished: much-needed food given in a dignified
manner, with as few people knowing about it as possible.
My
father-in-law, whose first yahrzeit was
on 27 Shvat, taught us to be sensitive to others, especially to the outsiders,
the underdogs, and the refugees like he used to be. He has left enormous shoes
to fill.
Shlomo Horwitz is the founding director of Jewish
Crossroads, an educational theater project with creative Torah programming in the
US, Canada, England and Israel. He studied at Yeshivat Sha’alvim and at Ner
Yisrael, where he received semicha from Rabbi Yaakov Weinberg. Shlomo is a CPA
and director of a consulting firm near Washington, DC. He can be reached
at www.jewishcrossroads.com. Reprinted with permission from the
award-winning Jewish website, Aish.com.
