Eulogy
Gary Nachshen. May 10, 2000
Words at the unveiling
Israel Nachshen. September 29, 2000
If you were to ask me for one word that best described Sam Nachshen, the word I would choose is "solid". My father was a pillar, a rock, a bulwark. You could always count on Sam, he was always there. In today's world, that was no small accomplishment.
Let me give you some examples of what I mean. My father was blessed to have both his parents with him until he was well into his 60s. But with that blessing came a burden, the burden of caring for his mother and father through their 80s and 90s as their health deteriorated. And he and his brother Larry responded, with lifts to the doctor, visits to the hospital, and money for caregivers, at any time and at all times. When his parents needed them, Sam and Larry were there.
He was there for my mother, too. Anne and Sam were married for nearly 45 years, and you could probably count on your fingers and toes the number of nights they spent apart during all that time. They were a wonderful team, complementing each other's strengths. My father was not only the provider, he was also the chauffeur, taking my mother on frequent Sunday shopping trips to Plattsburgh and Burlington and, in the last few years, down the 401 to visit the grandchildren in Toronto. My mother, in turn, provided my father with constant support right up until the end. Her strength and focus through the last difficult weeks were an inspiration to all of us.
My father was always there for my sister Eileen and me. Except during tax season in April, he managed to make it home for dinner with us nearly every night of the week. Year after year, he would drive the whole family down to Florida at Christmas time. He was always ready for an evening game of catch when we were growing up, he was always happy to hit the links with us at Elm Ridge no matter how abysmal our golf games remained after years of futility, he took great pride in our career accomplishments, and he could always be counted on for some simple, yet wise words in moments of crisis. As a father, and as a father-in-law to Brian and Julie, he always answered the bell.
Most recently, Zaida Sam was there for his grandsons Robert and Thomas. It was a pleasure to listen to him and Robert discuss doorstops, topspin, backspin, and all the other little things that caught Robert's attention. And two of the memories I will always treasure are Zaida Sam holding Thomas at his Bris and greeting our guests at his Pidyon Haben.
The theme of solidity and reliability permeated my father's community and professional life, too. He grew up as a first generation Canadian in the 1930s and 1940s on Clark Street, in the heart of Montreal's inner city Jewish ghetto. He was an integral part of the Clark Street gang, taking responsibility along with Bill Gluck for ensuring that every other member of the gang had a fitting nickname: Coop, Gus, Pro, Jumbo, and all the rest. He rebounded from 9 weeks in hospital with scarlet fever and the measles as a child to attend Bancroft School and his beloved Baron Byng High School. Just last year, he served proudly as one of the organizers of the 50th Reunion for the Baron Byng Class of '49.
My father never forgot a face, and he seemed to know, or at least know of, everyone in the Montreal Jewish community. He had a great fondness for his city and his community and a long record of service to prove it. Sam served as an active officer of two B'nai Brith lodges, including president of one, as treasurer of the Maimonides Hospital Foundation, for decades as a faithful Combined Jewish Appeal canvasser, and most recently on the board of directors of Canadian Magen David Adom. For 35 years, come the High Holidays you could count on him occupying his customary seat in the 6th row at Tifereth Beth David Jerusalem, the Baily Road shul. And in the last few months, as illness took hold of him, he would do his utmost to make it to shul every Shabbas.
Sam worked as a respected chartered accountant in private practice for over 40 years, the last 15 or so as a partner in the firm of Levy Pilotte. Being a professional myself, I can only lift my hat in admiration at his patience, stamina, and perseverance in a business and a milieu where people rarely stop to express their appreciation for your efforts on their behalf. But Sam had a knack for befriending his clients. And over the years, I learned many lessons from him about client relationships, partner and colleague relationships, and how to treat support staff fairly.
There was another side to my father's business and professional life - his incurable optimism and irrepressible enthusiasm for trying new ventures. Kojax, of course, stands out - his successful introduction of souvlaki and falafel into the mainstream of the Montreal fast food experience in 1977. More recently, he courageously embarked on a new career as an investment advisor after retiring as an accountant. He was the oldest member of Dominion Securities' 1996 rookie class, and as far as I could tell, the best-loved. Even in the last weeks of his illness, devotion to his clients' financial affairs inspired him and kept him going.
Sam loved his work, but he had other passions, too. I have already mentioned golf. He also loved food and remained faithful to the Montreal Expos, no matter how often they broke his heart.
A word or two is in order about my father's sense of humour, which could most charitably be described as "corny". If my father heard a joke he liked, he felt free, indeed obliged, to repeat it dozens, hundreds, thousands of times. In fact, no Nachshen family seder was official until my father proclaimed that he worked hard all year, and then come Passover there wasn't a single piece of bread in the house.
I would like to express my thanks on behalf of our family to Dr. Hammouda and all the other doctors and nurses in the Hematology Department and elsewhere in the Jewish General Hospital, for the wonderful care they provided to my father over the past seven months. He himself was tremendously grateful to them right up to the end, calling them his angels of mercy.
In closing, I recall my father's regret for the suffering his own parents endured at the end of their very long lives and his wish that he himself could leave us in what he called a "blaze of glory". Dad, in my eyes your 68 years of solid citizenship, support, service, and love were covered in glory.
Godspeed, and may your soul rest in peace.
Words at the unveiling by Israel Nachshen
The family has asked me to say a few words at this gathering of family and friends, to mark the final, formal custom of placing a monument at the burial place of the deceased.
This traditional custom, known as the unveiling, is not a religious duty, but rather an accepted act of noting the particulars of the deceased, such as name, parent's name, his family, date of birth and date of death.
This is also considered as an act of righteousness and loving kindness - 'Gemilat Chasadim'. Gemilat Chasadim is a category of mitzvot that obligates an individual, or group, to act in certain ways, on certain occasions, as a mark of human decency and respect towards others, living or dead, rich or poor - a degree of gentleness, extreme care, affection, etc. An act which we know cannot be repaid.
Sam, Z"L, was a man who earned our love and respect, and the act we perform today is to perpetuate his memory for us and the generations to follow.
". . . Inquire, I pray thee, of the former generations and apply thyself to that which the fathers have searched out . ." (Job 8:8)
Our family has taught us values and deeds, which we acquired from our parents and grandparents. And our determination, as a family unit, has been to carry this tradition forward and imbue our children and grandchildren with these values.
The Ethics of the Fathers teach us that riches are not the luxuries that can be bought, but the satisfaction in our values that we can transmit to our children, grandchildren, and future generations.
Sam, in his daily living, and in his lifetime, lived with this idea, and showed his family the example of family and its values and traditions.
In the Torah there are many instances when we are commanded to remember (when you were slaves in Egypt) and other incidents, as well we were commanded not to forget (what Amalek did to you). Thus, with the placing of this monument we will always know where our dear departed were buried, and it will help us always to remember and not to forget.
The five Hebrew letters on the monuments mean "May his soul be bound up with those of the living." In our hearts he will always find a place.
Shalom.
I.N. 27-09-00