Remembering Gene Greenberg

I was at loose ends eight years ago when my wife died following a lengthy illness. Months later, I was still unsettled, until Hashem suddenly intervened.

In early 2016, I became friends with several persons who urged me to explore an energetic Shabbat in the Orthodox community of Pico-Robertson. Since I lived in Santa Monica, where would I stay?

A new friend at The Community Shul suggested Gene and Miriam Greenberg, towers of the Jewish community who lived mere yards away from the synagogue and always had room for one more sleepover visitor. After that first Shabbat, I slept at the Greenbergs nearly every Friday night until I moved to Pico. For the next six years, I enjoyed nearly every Shabbat meal at Gene and Miriam’s or at their son Leigh and his wife Bath-Khen’s —until Gene and Miriam moved into assisted living.

Gene, one of the funniest — and most loyal — persons I ever have known, died early on Shabbat morning, Sept. 9.  Fearing his many close friends would forget his favorite jokes/punchlines, he would reiterate both.

Gene was 88 years old. He was married to Miriam for 67 years – an unquenchable love affair.

At his burial two days later, there was such a mountain of emotional tributes from rabbaim, family and friends who had benefited from the Greenberg’s generosity, we were asked to clear out for the next funeral.

Miriam recorded her most crucial thoughts and memories:

“Gene Greenberg was a good man. He was a good son, a good brother, a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather, a good uncle, a good nephew, a good employer, a good citizen. He was a good friend.

“He was caring, loyal and responsible. He was generous. He liked movies, television and restaurants. In some naive way, he thought he could conquer the world. His best achievement, however, was me. He loved being married to me. He was proud of what I accomplished and never tired of talking about how he met me when I was 16 and that I had the highest grades in a class of 1,400.

“He believed that he could conquer the world and bought a business soon after we were married, even though he knew little about preparing Italian food. He added two more divisions and was soon preparing blintzes and Chinese food as well. Later he expanded to marine and tropical fish, real estate and construction. He built a house in Westwood and another that could be seen when you took the 405 to the Valley.

“He traveled frequently to Asia, to South Pacific and throughout the U.S., and occasionally to Europe, once to Central America and a few times to Mexico.

“He had incredible chutzpah. He didn’t speak the languages, and he didn’t really eat the food. My sons and I received postcards from all over the world. We had to consult our globe to see where he was.

“He was daring, going into a business he didn’t really know, finding our home in a new development in the mountains. He loved cars. We always had a new model, culminating in a BMW convertible in 2003. He passed the DMV written exam a couple of years ago and announced that he would be driving again, even after failing the Cedars Sinai Driver’s Evaluation twice.

“Gene thought that I could do anything. When I was faced with a choice of positions — nursery school assistant or elementary school librarian — he pushed me to take the harder job. When I was taking courses at Illinois Teachers College to complete my teaching and library certificates, he insisted that I apply to the University of Chicago so my courses could count towards a degree.

“When I was teaching at the university, if I wanted time during the break between quarters to grade exams from the previous quarter and write a curriculum for the new quarter, he expected me to travel with him to some exotic place.

“When we came to California more than 50 years ago, we joined Sinai Temple, where he served a term on the synagogue board.

“We joined the Westwood Kehilla in the early ‘90s. Shortly afterward, some members left to start a new shul, and Gene was asked to be president.  He took the position and had the privilege of hiring Rabbi Asher Brander a few months later, an achievement he considered a highlight of his life.

 “Every Friday night Gene brought home all the people at services who had no plans for dinner, and after Saturday morning services, he brought all the people who had no plans for lunch.”  – Miriam Greenberg    

“Every Friday night Gene brought home all the people at services who had no plans for dinner, and after Saturday morning services, he brought all the people who had no plans for lunch.

“When we moved to Pico-Robertson, we joined Aish HaTorah, now The Community Shul, where we had become observant years before. I wanted to go to the Pico Shul on Shabbos, and Gene suggested that a space belonging to The Community Shul might be a new home for the Pico Shul. As a steady shul-goer, he impressed a young boarder of ours with his faithful attendance at services. Max, our boarder, decided to attend classes at Aish Jerusalem and recently got smicha (ordination).

“Gene helped many people in the years we were married, too many to name.  He allowed guys and girls to stay at our home for long periods of time, as they healed and got their lives back on track.

“Our nieces and nephews often visited in the summer. I made interesting, elaborate plans for them, and Gene made sure the plans were successful. He chauffeured the kids to camp, to classes, to private lessons.

“One great-nephew, now 18, visited in August to hang out with Gene, and drove us to doctors on the day Gene entered the hospital.  No matter what kind of scheme I came up with, I could count on Gene to help me carry it out.

“Gene loved jokes. His mother liked to joke. Gene saw that it made people happy, and he liked that. He collected jokes. People who heard his jokes brought him new jokes. He liked puns. He was always thinking how to make a pun out of what you said. He liked old television programs and found a station that featured them. He liked “America’s Got Talent” and “Jeopardy.”

“Gene loved me, and he basked in my successes. As he got older, he loved me more, and his pride increased as well. He talked about me all the time. He always said he wanted to die first, because he couldn’t live without me.

“His final 12 hours on Shabbat, Sept. 9, were difficult. He died looking as if he were at peace. I pray he is in a good place now.”