The Max Tannenbaum Story

I am Chuck "Zvi" Tannenbaum, the proud son of Max and Jean Tannenbaum.
"The Max Tannenbaum Story" is the story of my father Max's most amazing life.

"Every person has three names: The one given by one's mother and father, the one that others call him/her, and the one he/she acquires for oneself" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:1:3).

"A good name is more precious than fine oil" (Ecclesiastes 7:1)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Brief Life Summary
Becoming a Tannenbaum and Pirkei Avot
Life in Europe and Coming to America
Life on Chicago's West Side, Including Cheder Stories
Two Key Coin Tosses
Army Days, with Two Amusing Army Stories
Mr. T's Records
Operation Report Card
Mr. T - Super Sleuth
Life on the South Side
Activism
Commitment to Jewish life
Tzedakah
Cheer Up
Importance of a Closely Knit Family
Belief in Angels
My Dad as a Father
A Bunch of Photos
In Conclusion
The Complete Poetry Collection

BRIEF LIFE SUMMARY

My father, Max Tannenbaum, was born on February 18,1919 in the Ukraine region of Russia. His family immigrated to the US in 1921, and he grew up on Chicago's West Side. He served stateside in the US Armed Forces from 1942 - 1945 and married Jean Lichtman in 1944 while serving in the army. Upon honorable discharge, he and my mother moved to Chicago's South Side and were in the music business for some 40 years. He became a father in 1951 when I was born. He moved to Morton Grove, IL in 1975, where he resides today.

BECOMING A TANNENBAUM AND PIRKEI AVOT

Living in Russia during the early 1900's was - to put in mildly - not pleasant for the Jews. A story is told in my family that as a young man, my future zadie (grandfather in Yiddish) - Avrohom Yitzchak, was about to be imprisoned for a matter related to his Jewish religious observance. Taking note of the situation was an older Jewish man who had identification papers for his recently deceased son. This gentleman offered Zadie a chance to claim "mistaken identity" as a basis for his release. However, he would only offer the identity papers if Zadie made a promise to remain religiously observant after his release from prison. Zadie accepted the offer and the took the man's family name of Tannenbaum.

Now fast forward to June 17, 2012. My father and I were attending the gravestone dedication of my father's older brother Frank (Jewish name - Fischel Simcha). The officiating rabbi mentioned that "Tannenbaum" is the German word for "fir tree". Like an evergreen tree, the leaves of a fir tree retain their green color throughout the year, even during times when it is very dry. This is because of the ability of these trees to utilize the smallest amount of available water in the soil to remain healthy.

The Jewish text known as Pirkei Avot (Sayings of Our Fathers) is a collection of moral advice and insights of the great Jewish rabbis. The concept of "sameyach b’chelko" or "contentment with one's portion or lot in life" is discussed in Pirkei Avot, and it is stated that "the truly rich is the one "sameyach b'chelko". At the gravestone dedication, the officiating rabbi said that a "Tannenbaum" or fir tree is "sameyach b'chelko", needing only the smallest amount of water to maintain it's green leaves, while other trees turn brown under similar circumstances.

As you will see, and as anyone familiar with my father will tell you, he is a very optimistic person. He is always sporting a smile and is very upbeat about life. The same could be said of his brothers. As I listened to the rabbi's words at the gravestone dedication, I couldn't help but realize how remarkable the Tannenbaum name story is. My zadie, about to be imprisoned in Russia because of his Jewish religious observance, received a new "Tannenbaum" identity, allowing for his release and he went on to raise a family of Tannenbaums, each one "sameach b'chelko".

LIFE IN EUROPE AND COMING TO AMERICA

My father was born on February 18, 1919 in the Ukraine region of Russia. About all that he knows about the Tannenbaum family's time in Russia is that his father (my zadie), Avrohom Yitzchok Tannenbaum had a small grain grinding business, and had at least one horse. Zadie used the horse and a large boulder to grind the grain. Dad was the youngest of six children, though one died at about age two. He believes there may have been two other stillborn siblings. His mother's name was Esterinda, and he grew up with three brothers - Jerry, Harold and Frank (Yayneh, Arel, and Fischel in Yiddish) and a sister Evelyn or Evie.

They left Europe from the port of Cherbourg, France in 1921 on the RMS Mauretania. A visa to come to the US was arranged by his aunt and uncle - Mary and Phillip Goldman. The Goldmans had a very successful "junk" business in the US. My father has a very vague recollection of walking off a large boat down a long plank.

LIFE ON CHICAGO'S WEST SIDE

My father's family settled on the West Side of Chicago, with the first of their many apartments on Fairfield Avenue. There are few recollections from the early years in Chicago - the apartment's wooden floors, sleeping in a big bed with his siblings, sleeping in a buggy with a thatched woven roof, receiving a present of a toy car from a Russian family friend that had settled in Cleveland. Some cousins from my grandmother's (bubbie's) family also lived in the Fairfield Avenue apartment. Dad recalls his Aunt Ruchel and her two daughters, Micky and Ruthie, also living with the Tannenbaum family.

Dad, age 4 on the far left, with brother Frank (Fischel),
sister Evie, brother Harold (Arel) and brother Jerry (Yayneh)

Like most Jews living on the West Side, their existence was meager. His father (my zadie) worked for his visa sponsor, Phillip Goldman, for 10 years. It was a manual labor job - packing and wrapping, for $10/week. Zadie also worked with iron. When my father turned 4, the Tannenbaum family moved near Trumbull and 16th. He recalls meeting a friend there - Yossi Siegel and is still in touch with Yossi today. Eventually, Zadie started his own junk business in a garage near the apartment. He would bale junk and haul it to larger junk shops or to a mill.

The children had very few toys. Instead, my father remembers playing simple games outside with nuts, and of course - playing a lot of baseball on the streets of the West Side. At any moment there might be 100 kids out on the street. Kids were grouped into Big Guys and Little Guys depending on their ages. Everyone had a bench in front of their apartment building. Immigrants would sit outside on their benches and converse in Yiddish. Many businesses were closed early on Friday night and Saturday to observe Shabbos (the Jewish sabbath).

My father began writing poetry at the age of 62, with the poem below the first of many he penned. The poem was submitted at the "In-Town Retreat", Jewish Identity Project, Congregation Bnai Emunah on November 7, 1981. In this poem, my father expressed some of his memories of Jewish/family life on the West Side.

THESE THINGS DO I REMEMBER

Erev Shabbos the candles flicker
The men folks drinking, but no one's "shicker"
We welcome the sabbath, everybody's singing
No one answers the telephone's ringing

My father going to "shul" on Shabbos morn
In his best suit, clean, but worn
After lunch the men go to bed
Thinking about what the Rabbi had said

Pesach with the "mishpacha" at the Seder
I recite the 4 Questions I learned in "Cheder"
I remember all the holidays, cheerful and some sad
Like Yom Kippur when my stomach hurt bad

When Israel became a state, I cried with joy
The first time I cried since I was a boy
And many other things do I remember
On this 7th day of November

My father began his Jewish studies at age 5. He recalls Zadie taking him to study with a bearded man who would often fall asleep. At age 6, he began Public School at Holland Elementary School and then went to Herzyl Junior High. After a day of Public School, he would go to cheder (Hebrew school) from 4 - 6 pm on Mon - Thursday and again on Sunday morning, where 600 kids were taught by teachers, including five or six rabbis. The cheder was on St. Louis Avenue and 15th. He remembers that the rabbis would often strike the kids, but female teachers wouldn't do so. He remembers some teachers - Mrs. Rubinstein, Rabbi Tarasow - a tough guy with a ruler, Mr. Nelson - 3rd grade and not so tough, and Mr. Fadin - a cantor, not so fondly remembered by my dad.

CHEDER STORIES

There are many amusing stories from cheder. My favorite involves my dad's decision to goof off and miss cheder one day. Upon his return the following day, his rabbi asked about his previous day's absence. My dad did not have a good excuse, but made up that he had missed cheder because of a toothache. His rabbi said "OK, we will need a confirmation for this excuse" and brought him into the adjacent classroom where his older brother Fischel was a student. My dad's yiddish name is Motel (pronounced Muttel). With my dad's rabbi on one side and my Uncle Fischel's rabbi on the other side, my Uncle Fischel was asked why his brother was absent from cheder the previous day. Uncle Fischel didn't even know that my dad had missed cheder the previous day, but somehow managed to answer "Motel has bad teeth and I think he had a toothache". I think this was the first event in my dad's life that caused him to believe he is protected by angels.

Just a few more cheder stories. Seems my dad was a bit mischievious. Readers will see that this trait followed him into the army. One day in cheder, he was wearing a wool sweater that his mother had knitted. The sweater's yarn allowed it to stretch quite a bit. My dad was fooling around in class and got the attention of the rabbi who became very upset. At the end of class, as my dad was leaving, the rabbi grabbed for my dad, but could only get hold of the sweater. My dad knew that the rabbi intended to strike him. He pulled away and was able to remain on the other side of a classroom table, several feet from the rabbi, because of the stretching sweater. The other kids saw what was happening and were laughing hysterically as the rabbi finally had to give up and my dad ran off. I can imagine what a funny sight that would have been. If only there were camera phones in 1929.

In another case, an unnamed (to protect the possibly innocent) teacher asked my father to stay after class as he had misbehaved earlier. The teacher used to stand 10 stairs up from the students and sing a tune. Rather than stay, as my dad was worried about what was to follow, he ran off after class while the teacher remained 10 stairs up. The following day, my dad returned to class. His face was sunburned from playing baseball on the street. He was greeted by the teacher with a slap across his face. The marks from the teacher's hand on my dad's sunburned face were easily seen by my bubbie as my dad quickly ran home after being slapped. Bubbie went back and gave the teacher a piece of her mind and my dad was never hit again, at least by that teacher.

As the youngest child in the family, my dad was accustomed to wearing hand-me-downs. With his Bar Mitzvah approaching, he became very excited, as his mother was to take him to Maxwell Street to buy a new suit. (My dad briefly worked on Maxwell Street for 2 dollars per day, grabbing the arms of those passing by to bring them into a merchant's shop). My bubbie took dad to a shop and he recalls the owner climbing up a ladder to grab a box from the top shelf. The box was brought down and opened to reveal a bright red suit with a vest and two pair of pants. Dad pleaded with his mother not to buy the bright red suit. But the price was right - $5.00, and his mother said "Motel, this is your new suit". And that was that. My dad was so embarrassed by the red suit, that he would walk in the alleys to go to shul. As a result, he met a few shady characters that worked in the alleys of Chicago's West Side. Many accustomed to seeing him walking to shul on the neighborhood streets thought he had moved away.

Dad on the right, age 14 at the 1933 World's Fair.
His older brother Harold is operating a lemonade stand. Rose is a family friend

Dad attended Manley High School. As his Bar Mitzvah approached, also began to attend the Yeshiva on St. Louis Avenue and Douglas Blvd. He attended the Yeshiva until age 17. Classes were 5 days per week, and of course - attending Shabbos services on Friday night and Saturday morning was also required. He remembers Rabbis Shultz, Barr and Kaplan. Some students stayed at the Yeshiva for 8 - 9 years, eventually becoming rabbis. In fact, my father's older brothers Jerry and Harold almost studied long enough to become rabbis. My father remembers Rabbi Greenberg - the head rabbi and principal. The Yeshiva he attended eventually became the Hebrew Theological College, now on Carpenter Avenue in Skokie, IL. Kids came to the Yeshiva from many cheders, including Grenshaw and Beth Rachel Leah (my dad's cheder). As one of the few boys on the block to attend yeshiva, my dad was held in high regard by his friend's parents.

Brothers and sister. Left to right. 1st row - Harold, Evie, Jerry. 2nd row - Frank and Dad - age 17

My dad attended Herzyl Junior College where he earned an AA degree. His first job was at age 19. He worked in a hosiery shop in downtown Chicago, filling orders for Gold Maid hosiery. Though he was promised $15.00 per week, he was only paid $12.00. He kept this job for one year and then took a civil service test to work for the State of Illinois. He got a job in the Unemployment Department. Eventually the Federal Government took the office over. He continued to work in the Unemployment Department and earned $25.00 per week, more than any of his friends on the block. As a result, he was accustomed to being presented as a "big wage earner" to friend's parents. While working at this job, he would bump into an old friend - Howard Greene, who my dad knew from his cheder days. Howard remains a close friend of my dad today. My dad turned 93 on Feb 18, 2012. Howard Greene was the Senior Gabbai who called him up to the Torah for an aliyah as he was honored at Beth Hillel Congregation Bnai Emunah. And I proudly chanted the Torah portion with my dad by my side.

In the above photo from the West Side, my father Max is on the far right wearing a jacket, and having a good time with a bunch of his pals. Notice the Hebrew writing on the door to the left which I believe reads Shul 47.

My dad is on the right with the light pants with some West Side pals in downtown Chicago.

My dad on the far right with two friends from the West Side.

Dad and a friend after winning a baseball game on Central Park and 15th.

Dad and a friend.

Dad (on the left) and some friends goofing off on a West Side street corner.

This, I'm told was somewhat of a frequent occurrence

Dad (on the left), on a West Side street corner. Looks like a lot of baseball going on.

Dad, in the first row, far right - at the beach with a bunch of West Side pals.

Zadie was always the first to arrive at the daily morning prayer service (minyan). As a result, he would light the fire to provide some heat for the daviners. The morning minyan was held in a house converted to a shul on Trumbul and 16th. My father wrote many poems later in his life. One poem was about this shul.

THE LITTLE OLD SHUL

That little old shul was something special to me
That is where I spent most of my childhood you see
In the middle of the block it stood
Made with some bricks, but mostly wood

I remember during some winters the shul was without heat
To keep warm we stamped our feet
In the summer we all would sweat
It must have been over 100 degrees, I bet

Old Michel who drank whiskey 120 proof
Then started to jump, I thought he would hit the roof
Sholom the Sofer, may he rest in peace,
Writing the Torah was his expertise

Mr. Carl, with a voice so coarse
He was a peddler with a wagon and horse
He would pinch my cheeks until they bled
Whenever I would see him, to my father I fled

Many other faces from my memory fade
When they were alive, what an impression they made
If I had one wish, this little old shul would I bring back again
To relive those happy days with all the boys and men

The JUF News had a story about old shuls in September, 1991. Noting the story, my dad sent in a "letter to the editor" which was published in the December 1991 JUF News. He included the above poem, adding "Everybody who lived in the old neighborhood, especially the West Side, remembers the house converted into the little old shul. I wrote a poem several years ago dedicated to such a shul, Congregation Nusach Arie, on Trumbull Avenue near 16th Street. I am sure that many of your readers could relate to the sentiments expressed." My dad and his three brothers eventually had their Bar Mitzvahs at Congregation Nusach Arie.

My dad kept a diary of his army days. Reading through the diary, I can attest to the importance of the little old shul in his life, as he frequently mentions memories of the shul and his desire to find a similar shul to attend while serving in the army.

TWO KEY COIN TOSSES

At age 19, my dad went with some friends to the White Palace Theatre on 16th and Kedzie. The show had already started so they tossed a coin to see whether they should still go in or return home. The coin toss dictated that they go back home. Along the way home, they stopped to hang out on a West Side corner. Jeanie Lichtman and a girlfriend of hers walked by the corner. The two young ladies were coming home from work at a local five and dime on Homan and 16th. Jeanie caught the eye of both my dad and his close friend nicknamed "Sleepy". Both my dad and Sleepy wanted to walk Jeanie home. They tossed a coin and my dad won. As he walked Jeanie home, Sleepy tagged along in spite of the coin toss going against him. Jeanie turned around to remind Sleepy that he lost the toss. Without those two coin tosses, I would not be writing this story. My dad walked Jeanie to her home - one of twelve one-room apartments in a boarding house. He met her mother Celia and told her that he planned to marry Jeanie someday. Jean Lichtman and Max Tannenbaum were married on November 20, 1944.

THE ARMY DAYS

My dad entered the US army June 16, 1942 at age 23. Although there were several instances where he was almost shipped overseas, he managed to stay in the states. He was stationed at 16 camps in all, first at Camp Grant, near Rockford, Il., and then at Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis, Mo., where he did basic training. Next was Fort Logan, in Denver, Co. He met some Jewish families, particularly the Levitt family, in Denver and had many Shabbos meals with them. After doing well on some aptitude tests, he was sent to Army Air Base in Salt Lake City, Utah, where he attended classes at the University of Utah in the "Star Program". He studied weather forecasting and became a Sergeant upon graduation. He stayed at the Fairgrounds in Salt Lake City and also took classes at the Freemont School there. Then he was sent to Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson.

Next was Ephrata Air Base in Ephrata, Washington followed by Moses Lake Air Base, also in Washington. He then went to Drew Field in Tampa, Fl where he married my mother on November 20, 1944. Next, he went briefly alone to Chanute Field in Rantoul, Il and then back to Drew Field. From this point on, my dad and mother stayed together at camps in the US. Somehow, he managed to stay stateside, partly because a doctor disqualified him due to a minor ailment, and he was kept from fighting in the Battle of the Bulge. The doctor who disqualified him was named Dr. Goldberg - hmmm. Next came Camp Gordon in Atlanta, GA. It was at Camp Gordon that my father was transferred from the Air Corps to the Infantry on December 30, 1944. Sheppard Field in Wichita Falls, Texas followed and my dad was then transferred back to the Air Corps. Then Normoyle ATS, in Normoyle, TX., Kelly Field, San Antonio, TX., Marianna Army Air Field, Marianna, FL. and finally, Patterson Field in Dayton, OH. He was honorably discharged on December 15, 1945.

My father's ranks and dates were:
Private 06/16/42 - 04/01/43
Corporal 04/01/43 - 06/01/43
Sergeant 06/01/43 - 08/16/43
Private 08/16/43 - 08/24/43
Sergeant 08/24/43 - 12/31/43
Staff Sergeant 12/31/43 - 12/15/45

ARMY PHOTOS (WITH DAD'S COMMENTS IN QUOTES)

Dad (with glove) in 1st row - Weather Forecasting Proficiency Class 4/1/1944 Chanute Field

Dad at Chanute Field 4/1/1944

In front of Chipola Hotel across from the movie. Marianna, Fl 7/1945

Sitting on his trunk in fatigues "Army Haircut and All"

Utah Chronicle November 19, 1942 - Pvt. Max Tannenbaum being fed in U of U cafeteria

Davening

Freemont School, Salt Lake City, Utah Jan, 1943

Map Plotting Class 2/8/1943

Dad on his "own bunk" at The Freemont School in Salt Lake City
He added "note school books" in lower left so we would know he was studying

Modest dad, Freemont School Jan, 1943
With Golembiewski, Edelstein, Schintz and Schulman

"Wolf Tannenbaum with some U of U Coeds" (That's his note on the back of pic)

Dad in his "baggy fatigues" at Davis Monthan Field
Tucson, Arizona 4/28/43

Dad on his cell phone (not) at his office in the Weather Department
Drew Field Tampa, Fl 4/20/1944

The Levitts provided dad a Jewish home on Shabbos many times in Denver

A visit from Dad's mother (my bubbie) in Tampa 12/25/1944

ARMY PICS OF DAD WITH MOM

This is the back side of the pic above it

TWO AMUSING ARMY STORIES

For a large part of his army service, my dad was a weather forecaster. While stationed at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, he would brief thirty 10-men crews daily on weather conditions. On one typical Tucson day, my dad was called by the General at the base to see if the weather conditions would be good for a baseball game between the commissioned and non-commissioned officers. The weather was always good for a baseball game in Tucson, so without much investigation, my dad responded that there should be no weather problems for the game that day. Well, in the early innings of the game, the skies began to darken, and the rains came - hard. Bad storms, like my dad had never before seen in Tucson. The game had to be cancelled and the General was furious with my dad. As punishment, he was assigned to flight duty, where he went on B-17's for several hours at a time to record weather conditions. Somehow, this managed to work to my dad's advantage as he received flight pay and actually got his work done quickly and could then just rest on the plane.

Another time, while in Utah, my dad "borrowed" a one day pass from the desk of a 2nd Lieutenant and stayed off base over night (doing who knows what). He returned the following day and was questioned about his previous day's absence (a recurrent theme in his life). He answered that he had a pass, unaware that everyone on the base was on restricted duty and that the one day pass (he had lifted) was not valid. For this, he was demoted to Private with some unpleasant duties. Luckily, he was promoted back fairly quickly to his previous rank of Sergeant.

HOME FROM THE ARMY

Starved Rock - 1947

Mr. T's RECORDS

Returning to Chicago after the Army, my mom and dad received a $4000 GI loan from the South Side Bank and Trust and borrowed $1000 from my dad's older brother Jerry. While waiting for the GI loan to clear, my father took a correspondence course in TV and Radio Repair. Once the loan cleared, they opened the Kenwood Music Shop at 925 E. 47th street on Chicago's South Side in late 1946. My mother had worked in the music department of Montgomery Wards and at Lyon & Healy and was very knowledgeable about the music industry and retail sales. She was responsible for phonograph record and sheet music sales on the main floor of their store and my dad set up a TV and radio repair shop in the store's basement. Initially, their clientele was all white, as African Americans were prohibited from going east of Cottage Grove. After a few years though, the border was eliminated and their customers were racially mixed. My parents took an apartment at 4625 South Drexel Boulevard and I was born there in 1951. The music store moved to 4700 Ingleside in early 1952 and the store's name was changed to "Mr. T's Records". My mother still helped out at Mr. T's, but pretty much had her hands full with me.

Mom, Dad and Guess Who in July, 1952
Kenwood Music Shop on the right

PHOTOS FROM Mr. T's RECORDS ON 47th STREET

Exterior Store Windows at Mr. T's on 47th

Shot of the Exterior Windows

Store Interior and Merchandise

Store Interior, Merchandise and a Customer Browsing

Mr. T with two employees - On the right - Jazzologist - Ezel "Coop" Cooper and Leon

Mr. T's Christmas Parties for the Neighborhood Kids

More swinging Christmas parties for neighborhood kids, courtesy of kosher Jew - Mr. T

When the murder of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King triggered riots in many Chicago neighborhoods, Mr. T's was "protected" from vandalism by a group of neighborhood youth who stood watch in front of the store. Even with the "protection", Mr. T's was in a rough part of town. My dad tells the story of being held up at gunpoint by a 20 something year old gangbanger, obviously high on drugs. My dad was able to calm him down and get him to stop playing with the trigger of the gun, but he was not able to prevent the youth from locking him in a nearly airtight storage closet. Fortunately, the owner of the building kept some hardware in the closet that eventually enabled my dad to set himself free.

Eventually, Mr. T's main store moved to 1611 East 87th street. Previous to this move, my father had developed a second "business within a business" where he sold large quantities of low cost, but terrific jazz albums known as "cut-outs" to a group of guys he referred to as "the hustlers". A second shop was opened at 1728 East 87th, 1.5 blocks east of the 1611 location and "the hustlers" were taken care of at this second location.

OPERATION REPORT CARD

As time went on, the neighborhood changed and Mr. T's became surrounded by a black ghetto. Gang violence was rampant. School kids had little incentive to do well and were attracted to gang life. To try to combat this problem, my dad developed a program to motivate neighborhood kids to do well in school. The development of this program is one of many things that has made me very proud of my father. He called the program "Operation Report Card". In a nutshell, the program used phonograph records as prizes to reward inner city kids for good (or improved) school grades. The program took off and was a big success, with kid's grades greatly improving. There was a full page spread describing the program in the Chicago Sun-Times. My dad received congratulatory letters from Vice President Hubert Humphrey and Senator Charles Percy, as well as many parents, teachers and school principals. Even years later, there were many thank-you letters from students in the program.

It would be difficult to describe the program better than the feature story in a Catholic viewpoint periodical - "The Way" (Vol. XXV, No. 7 - September 1969). "The Way" story also mentions another project that my dad sponsored and named "Operation Pride". This was a project to help clean up the local neighborhood. "The Way" story does not mention that Operation Pride included planting sapling trees and installing white picket fences around the small yards in front of the apartment buildings on the street. As the article does mention, my dad was able to convince the National Food Store chain to become involved in the Operation Report Card program. He tried to convince many other businesses as well as City of Chicago government officials to do the same.

The above photo from the Sun Times piece shows the smiling face of first place winner - Phyllis Collins with my dad - Mr. T.

In reviewing the article which appeared in "The Way", it is hard to miss how many times the number "18" appears. My dad started the program with 18 apartment buildings. He then expanded it to 18 classrooms in the Reavis school. The letter he received from Chuck was sent when Chuck was an 18 year old sailor. As many of you know, "18" is a significant number to Jews. "Chai" is written using the Hebrew letters which represent the number "18". "Chai" translates into "Life"

Mr. T with another winner from Operation Report Card

My father brought Operation Report Card to another school - The Clara Barton School, also on Chicago's South Side. A long time dedicated employee of my father - Barbara Wright taught there. At Clara Barton, the name of the program was changed to Pupils Incentive Program (P.I.P.).

Announcing Operation Report Card

A Winners announcement
The announcements were drawn up by my dad

Congratulatory letter to my dad from Vice President Hubert Humphrey

Above 2 congratulatory letters to my dad from Senator Charles Percy who
read about Operation Report Card in the Chicago Sun Times and CSM

Congratulatory letter from Principal Raymond F. Hoffman of the Reavis School

Write up in the Reavis School Paper - The Flash, beginning in the left column of the
top page and ending on the lower right of the bottom page.

Letters from a teacher, Edna Iverson and Principal Edis F. Snyder of the Clara Barton School
where my father continued to reward good school with his Pupil Incentive Program (PIP)

My dad was able to sell other bigger businesses in the neighborhood on rewarding good grades.
One such business was the National Food Store.

Mr. T - SUPER SLEUTH

My dad found sources who sold him large quantities of Jazz albums at significant discounts. He then turned around and sold the Jazz albums to a group of "salesmen" he fondly referred to as "the hustlers". Typically, hustlers would come into Mr. T's and buy 30 albums for $50 and then return to their home turf to sell the albums to their own customers, often in taverns and jazz clubs. I met many of the hustlers as I worked with my dad at Mr. T's while in high school. The hustlers were great fun to converse with and were top notch B.S. artists too. Several had spent time in prison for petty crimes.

The hustlers would often come into Mr. T's with previously purchased albums that they not sold, sometimes wanting to exchange them for new merchandise. They would come into the record shop, drop these albums off on the counter top and do some shopping. Their new selections would be brought to my dad for purchase or exchange.

On an icy cold Chicago winter day, a hustler we referred to as "Funky Preston" (there was a "Clean Preston" too) came into T's, placed his unsold albums on the counter top and went to do some shopping, engaging my dad in some conversation along the way. My dad was occupied rearranging some merchandise, but began to notice that the stack of albums supposedly brought in to the store by Funky Preston was growing in size.

When Funky Preston brought my dad a group of new albums to exchange, my dad suggested that some of the albums in "the old group" had not been there when F.P. came into the store. F.P asked if my dad was accusing him of stealing and my dad responded "it sure seems that way". F.P asked how my dad could prove any theft and my Super-Sleuth dad told F.P that it should be pretty easy. One by one, my dad divided the "old group" of albums into two batches. The albums on top of the stack were warm and the ones F.P brought in from the outside were still ice cold. It was easy to tell "to the record" where the dividing line was.

Case Closed.

LIFE ON THE SOUTH SIDE

Late in 1952, our family moved to a four room bungalow at 9025 South East End Avenue in the South Shore Gardens community of Chicago's South Side. My parents became founding members of Congregation Rodfei Sholom on the 9100 block of South Euclid. My father and mother were very active members of the synagogue. He served on the board of directors and she taught in the Sunday School. My parents loved to entertain, and created a great party room in our new home.

Tannenbaum home on the South Side at 9025 S. East End Avenue

My dad, my mother and I in front of our home at 9025 S. East End in 1953

Looks like I got some Boxing Gloves for Chanukah in 1955

Tannenbaum home in 1955 with a new "T" awning

Gathering of South Side Jews, including my very serious looking father (in the front row with
the bow tie), at the dedication of Congregation Rodfei Sholom on the 9100 block of South
Euclid. The original synagogue building is at the top of photo. That building was eventually
used for children's services and a social hall, as Rodfei Sholom's membership grew
significantly. We merged with Or Chodosh and added a new beautiful sanctuary and school
building.

My father giving a "5 minute ice breaker speech" at a meeting of a south side branch of
Toastmasters April 8, 1958. Were suit coats like his in style then?

My mother Jean Tannenbaum My father Max Tannenbaum August, 1971 April , 1973

It was on the South Side that my dad, encouraged by my mother, learned to play bridge. Dad has played socially and competitively (duplicate bridge) with many partners, including my mother, over the years and remains a fierce competitor at the bridge table. He and I have played regularly for years in a weekly game. Recently, Rosalie and Howard, owners of the bridge club where we currently play, had a birthday cake to help celebrate his 93rd birthday. It turns out that there were several players at the game that day in their 80's and 90's and my dad lamented that Madeline, an excellent player, had him beat by a couple of years. Could there be something good in the cards?

Dad at a duplicate bridge game on Feb 29, 2012

ACTIVISM

My dad was not one to sit around while things were happening that upset him. He was involved in many causes over the years, and still follows the news and gets fired up, especially when it comes to politics and Israel.

The first major protest effort I saw, was when he voiced his strong opposition to the Vietnam War. He did this primarily through the windows of his record shop - Mr.T's. The record shop was located on the busy corner of 47th Street and Ingleside. The store windows were typically used to display merchandise and had a big impact on sales. However, my dad became so opposed to the war, that he blanketed his store windows with "Get Out of Vietnam Now" signs. As a result of these signs, no merchandise (or the store's interior) could be seen from the street. He also provided financial support to anti-war "activists" at the nearby University of Chicago and wrote several letters to local newspapers expressing his anti-war sentiments. He was a member of BEM, the Business Executive Movement to end the war in Viet Nam. He picked up the theme of his opposition to the Vietnam War and offered some better ideas in the poem below.

THOUGHTS TO PONDER

If you were to ask me where I would look
To search for material to write a book
It would not be difficult subjects to find
May I offer you a couple that have been running through my mind.

Were the Viet Cong really our enemy
10,000 miles away across the sea
And how many young lives were thrown away
So some mighty general might have his egotistical way

And the Chinese with his yellow skin
Is that any reason we should hate him
Why can't we extend a hand of friendship to that nation
And help them with our technology and automation

To offer under-developed nations our expertise
Would be a giant step toward achieving peace
If on this earth there would be more love
Then we could receive the Lord's blessing from above

If with my opinions you disagree
I appreciate your listening to me
Now it is your turn to speak out
That's what our democracy is all about.

My father was one of the first Americans to campaign to have Jonathan Pollard released from prison. He bought several full page ads in Jewish publications. The following one appeared in the Sentinel in 1986:

Rabbi Harold Shusterman Z"L of Chicago's Congregation Bnei Ruven noticed my dad's personal campaign to bring attention to the unjust incarceration of Jonathan Pollard and sent him the following letter:

My dad has always been concerned about the future of Judaism and Israel. In an effort to educate Chicago area Jews about their roots, he compiled a listing of all the available courses around the Chicago area. This was quite an extensive compilation as there were many groups, schools, synagogues, organizations, etc. that provided these "continuing ed" courses to adults.

He placed full page ads in local Jewish publications, offering his free compilation, thus making it easy for Jewish Chicagoans to learn about their roots. The contents of one such ad appears below. Dad had a toll free "800" number and would mail out the compilation to anyone that called.

With my dad's great concern for Judaism's future, he placed the following message in The Chicago Jewish News in April of 2000, which I might add is before he met our wonderful Rabbi Alan Kensky at Beth Hillel Congregation Bnai Emunah.

The last sentence of the message is cut off but reads: "With the holidays coming soon, this is a good time to put corrective measures in place". Not too shy is he.

My dad would frequently send in Letters to the Editor of Chicago's newspapers. One of many published in the Chicago Sun Times was a response to Patrick Buchanan's (dad was not a big fan) speech declaring one of his candidacies (not sure if it was 1992, 1996 or 2000) for President Of The United States.

My father often expressed his concern for various issues in his poetry. Once again his concern over the future of the Jewish people is noted, this time - in a poem. I know that he welcomes converts to Judaism wholeheartedly. His main concern is for the home where Jewish values might not be transmitted.

SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS

May I ask this question of you, my friend
Where is this all going to end?
I am referring to intermarriage and assimilation
That is threatening to destroy the very roots of Judaism’s foundation

After all these thousands of years
And rivers of blood and oceans of tears
Did our great sages and martyrs die in vain
So the holy name of G-D not to profane?

Consider our glorious past and proud tradition
Will some future generation think of as just so much fiction?

And what of our great contributions in many fields of endeavor
Are these to be erased from history forever?

Was the cause of our problem our complacency?
Or was it perhaps our affluency?
Did our teachers fail their pupils to reach?
And where were our leaders to help stop the breach?

Initially, my father left the last and two lines off, ending the poem with "affluency?" and then followed it with "????????????????????"

He added the following postscript: "Due to the sensitivity of this subject I decided to leave this poem unfinished.............(We will have to wait for history to give us the answer to the above question). Kindly note: There already has been statements made that the Holocaust never took place."

He later added the final two lines.

Though my father often worked alone to do his small part in the spirit of Tikkun Olam (Repair of the World), as seen in the poem below - he also believed in the power of the community to effect change.

BROTHERHOOD

Last night my friend Dave said “Mr. T
About Brotherhood write a poem for me”
Brotherhood is a beautiful word no doubt
Let me tell you what I think Brotherhood is all about

We must from the beginning start
Brotherhood has to come straight from the heart
To erase that expression “Man’s inhumanity to man”
Intolerance and prejudice we must forever ban

To fulfill some worthwhile cherished dream
We must all work together as a team
Working towards a common goal in unity
Everyone doing their best to improve their community

Friends to help ease the pain when we are sad and blue
Friends with which to enjoy playing golf and bridge too
Brothers and sisters to each other extending a helping hand
Against a common enemy together we all must stand

To better serve the Lord in the Heavens above
Then we shall all be worthy of His love

COMMITMENT TO JEWISH LIFE

My father has been an observant Jew throughout his life. He was raised in an orthodox Jewish home where Shabbat and all of the Jewish holidays were fully observed. His father, Avrohom Yitzchok was a chasid and the first to arrive at shul for the daily minyan. My dad attended an orthodox Jewish cheder and yeshiva. While in the army, he did his best to observe Jewish Law and would frequently comment in his army diary how he missed the shuls of Chicago's West Side.

Once married and settled on Chicago's South Side, he help found the Conservative synagogue - Congregation Rodfei Sholom and was one of the most observant members in the synagogue. Judaism and a great concern for Israel's wellbeing permeated our kosher South Side home. We attended Shabbat services weekly - both Friday nights and Saturday mornings. My mother taught in the synagogue Sunday School.

When I was five years old, my parents started me at Akiba Jewish Day School on the South Side, but transferred me to a public school soon after. While attending public school, my parents insisted that I miss school for every Yom Tov that occurred. In additon to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, this included the first and last two days of Pesach, the first two days of Sukkot, Shmeini Atzeret, Simchat Torah and two days for Shavuot. That was certainly fine by me and there was a group of South Side families that did the same. We would all attend synagogue services together on these holidays. Surprisingly, even though we missed classes frequently for all of the various religious holidays, we all seemed to do pretty well in school.

My father's mother, my bubbie, passed away in 1967 and my dad said kaddish daily at the Rodfei Sholom minyan as required by Jewish Law. He continued to attend morning minyans every day until age 92, first at Rodfei Sholom, then at Bnai Emunah when he moved to Morton Grove in 1975, and most recently, at BHCBE. Occasionally he was called to attend the minyan of another shul if a tenth man was needed. Dad would often lead the davening at many spirited morning services and became a favorite daviner for many morning "minyanaires".

The poem below was inspired by the stained glass windows in the Rabinovitz Chapel at Congregation Bnai Emunah

THE STAINED GLASS WINDOWS

A beautiful spiritual feeling envelopes you
As you gaze at the colors red, brown, gold and blue
The stained glass windows are an artist's rendition
Of Judaism's glory and its great tradition

As your eyes move from one side to the other
You notice the name honoring a beloved father
Here we see Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac his son
Substituted by a ram who into a thicket has run

The Shofar, Kiddush Cup, and Tallith too
The Siddur with its Star of David of blue
From the outstretched Kohen's hands
To the Esrog and Lulav tied with willow bands

The golden Torah pointer resting on the Holy Script
The page seems from the Torah ripped
The 12 tribes of Israel are also there
The beautiful stained glass windows are for everyone to share

The Lord's name shines forth from the center
Blessing all those through the door enter

Although, my father loved the "Ruach" (spirit) at the Bnai Emunah morning minyan, he also found time there for contemplation and meditation as is seen in his poem below:

THE QUIET PLACE

To get away from this earth's unrelenting pace
I go to what I call "The Quiet Place"
There you can relax and let your mind wander
You read about Moses splitting the Red Sea asunder

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and the rest
How they responded when G-d put them to the test
Our great heroes like Judah the Maccabee
And Jonah in the whale lost at sea

The cantor chants in his beautiful voice
Everybody listens quietly, men women and boys
The Rabbi on the bima expounds on the Torah
My attention is drawn to the lovely Menorah

The burning bush on the wall so high
My heart skips a beat, you know the reason why
The Ark is opened, and what a beautiful sight
Gold and silver embroidered Torahs standing upright

As the services come to an end
This message comes to my mind to send
I implore you my friend, ease up on the race
Come and join me in "The Quiet Place"

(Services at Bnai Emunah)

Another poem about my dad's experience as a morning minyanaire, and how it changed for the better at B'nai Emunah.

A MORNING MINYANAIRE

I became a minyanaire in 1967
That's the year my mother went to heaven
Bright and early every morning did I arise
Fighting to keep the slumber from my eyes

Each and every morning I came
However the services all seemed to be the same
1968, 1969 and up until 1975
That year in Morton Grove did I arrive

Early in the morning to Cong. Bnai Emunah I drove
To Rabbi Stern I said "Boker Tov"
In the chapel, I sat down with the rest
Then joined in the singing, I did my best

After services in the Rabbi's study did I appear
I said "What beautiful services you have here"
Then he smiled in a knowing way
He knew that I was here to stay

Rabbi Stern was not correct in his prediction for my father to stay at Cong. Bnai Emunah and he eventually left to join Congregation Beth Hillel before it merged with Bnai Emunah.

The four Tannenbaum brothers, from the left - Harold, Max (dad), Frank and Jerry in Nusach Arie Shul in Albany Park, Chicago. Reading the Hebrew on the wall to the right,
I see there were frequent water leaks.

The following poem was inspired by the Congregation Bnai Emunah pilgrimage to Israel from December 20, 1981 to January 3, 1982:

A PILGRIMAGE TO ISRAEL

That wonderful day has finally come
We are on our way to Jerusalem
All our hearts are filled with anticipation
To see with our own eyes that wonderful nation

On the 21st of December in Tel Aviv we land
31 pilgrims composed our band
We are off to the Lubavitch K'far Chabad
Then on to a visit to Kibbutz Saad

We honor Harry Kaplan and Ethel his mate
In the Judean Hills their forest we dedicate
Then on to Jerusalem, the "City of Gold"
Sworn by our people forever to hold

To the little town of Netivot
We travel to perform the greatest of Mitzvot
From our members of Bnai Emunah are the contributions
Among the poor and needy we make the distributions

Everywhere the Israeli soldiers with their Uzi machine gun
Four great victories have they won
On Massada's peak they are sworn
Nevermore from our grasp Israel to be torn

Erev Shabbos we leave our hotel
To view and worship at the Kotel
To Israel we know how strong is our ties
As we kiss the great stones with tears in our eyes

As our travels come to an end

To our people a message we send

To Jews everywhere this country extends their hand

Come, come and see...........the Promised Land

For many years, my dad and several congregants from Bnai Emunah would have weekly study sessions with good friend, Rabbi Shmuel Keller of Telshe Yeshiva in Chicago. One benefit of this relationship was that my own family was invited for dinners in the Keller family sukkah. The very observant Keller family (which included twelve children) was very welcoming to my not so orthodox family.

My dad left Bnai Emunah and joined my family at Beth Hillel (which later became Beth Hillel Congregation Bnai Emunah) in 2000. He continued to attend the morning minyan every day. Coming from the highly spirited "ruach" filled minyan at Bnai Emunah, my dad initially felt a little uninspired by the relatively reserved minyan at Beth Hillel. He suggested to the Beth Hillel leadership that they add some singing and was told "we don't do that here". Well, despite that reply, my dad became one of the minyan's favorite leaders. He brought new melodies to the service and inspired participation from the other minyanaires. He also enjoys the shmoozing after the minyan, where the world's problems are discussed. He instituted the Beth Hillel Congregation Bnai Emunah custom of beginning the shmoozing with the singing of L'Chaim Tovim (to a good life).

Shortly after joining Beth Hillel, my dad wrote this poem:

CONGREGATION BETH HILLEL

There is an old saying my friends, that I'm sure you've heard before
That when one door closes, there opens another door
Joining Beth Hillel Congregation
Is the reason for my celebration

Attending services with my boyhood friend Howard Greene, Hershel, Albert A., Bruce, Jerry, Joe, to name a few
Makes me proud to be a Jew
At Beth Hillel there is a great feeling of camaraderie
And I am also joining my son Chuck and his family

Rabbi Altshuler's sermons are a pleasure to hear
And Cantor Wasser's beautiful Shabbat services, and his special rendition of the Yizkor services brought to my eyes many a tear
With these words I shall end this poem
I am proud to call Congregation Beth Hillel my new home

The morning minyan camaraderie at BHCBE was very meaningful to my dad and helped him get through a very difficult period while my mother was suffering with Alzheimers disease. In gratitude, my dad made a significant contribution to the BHCBE Capitol Campaign. Today, at the entry to the lounge where daviners shmooze and have a nosh after services, there is a bronze plaque on the wall honoring the minyanaires.

As most "regulars" at BHCBE Shabbat services know, my dad instituted and continues to lead singing at the "L'Chaim Table" following Shabbat services. A group of thirty or so congregants gather to have a schnapps and sing a few upbeat Jewish songs. The size of the group is gradually growing. People seem to want to join in, but some are a bit inhibited. Certainly not my dad, who recently celebrated his 93rd birthday. At the "L'Chaim Table", a sign with a picture of flickering candles read "Happy Birthday Max Tannenbaum - The Light Of The Ruach Singers". Please come and join us if you are attending Shabbat services at BHCBE. My dad has prepared song sheets with transliterations to help people follow along.

Upon reaching the age of 92, it became difficult for my dad to get up so early every morning, so he no longer attends the daily 7:00 AM minyan, but does come on some public holidays and Sunday mornings when the minyan starts at 9:00 AM. He is at shul every Shabbat morning sitting in "his" regular seat in the back row and also attends services for all of the Yom Tovim. While he drives to the services on Shabbat and holidays, he otherwise observes Jewish law on these days, not writing or spending money, etc. He still "fully participates" and is the last to leave (often after midnight) our Tannenbaum Family Seders, even though he would normally be sleeping much earlier. He has kept kosher, observing Jewish Dietary Laws for his entire life.

TZEDAKAH

Although you wouldn't know it from speaking to him, my dad is one of the most charitable men you will ever meet. His charitable acts have included both hands-on volunteerism and monetary contributions. He won't tell you about it, so it has become my job.

A perfect example of his hands-on work involved volunteering at The Northwest Home For The Aged. For many years, my mother and father would spend what became a very popular weekly evening with the residents. My father led spirited current events discussions and my mother led the residents in song. A lot of preparation time went into their visits which continued until my mother herself became ill with Alzheimer's disease. Neither my mother nor my father had a close relative living at "The Northwest Home", but they became close with many of the residents.

My dad had great concern for residents who did not receive visits from friends or family and was inspired to write the following poems:

THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE WINDOW

I sit here alone in the room writing this poem
It is a story of a resident of an old people's home
Once a week at the home I would appear
She would be looking out the window seated in her chair

I asked her gently who she expected to see
She said "My children may come to visit me"
Her prettiest dress of silk and lace she wore
She always smiled at me when I came through the door

"This week have your children come to visit you?"
"No" she said "they had other things to do.
One son is a great doctor, another is a big lawyer.
He lives not far from here on Dempster and Lawler".

"Another son is a C.P.A.
The last time he visited me was 3 years ago in May.
I love all my children so very much
Even though with me they do not keep in touch."

Week after week I came
Her story to me was always the same
Last week when I looked for the little old lady in silk and lace
There was another little old lady sitting in her place.

The above poem appeared in the Sentinel on one Mothers Day. My father referred to it as "a message to all Sentinel readers" followed by "Honor your Father and Mother that your days may be lengthened".

THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE WINDOW
(sequel - 15 years later)

He was sitting alone in the lounge, drink in hand
The musicians were playing but he did not hear the band
He had a far away look in his eye
He beckoned me to sit at his table as I passed by

Hair of steel gray, he was a handsome man
Although it was winter, he had a golden tan
His name which he gave me I did not know
He said he remembered seeing me at an Old Peoples Home years ago

"I made a great deal of money in my day
When I was not busy at work, I spent much time at play
I raised three children, now all grown
They live far away in other cities, and now I'm all alone"

He pulled a worn picture from his pocket for me to see
Now everything came back to me
The kindly old face I remembered well
But to him, my story I did not tell

He said "Its too late, my friend, to undo the past
But memories forever do last"
I left him sitting there, staring at his drink
He had lots of time now to ..............think, think, think

My parents' regular visits to the Northwest Home For The Aged were frequently acknowledged in newsletters, and by the plaque below:

(Sorry, just noticed my reflection in the photo of the plaque.
That's why I'm a dentist, and not a photographer)

Though my dad was a small businessman, that didn't stop him from making big contributions to causes he felt strongly about. One such cause is Lubavitch Chabad. My dad's connection to Chabad goes back to the 70's when he noticed an article about Chabad in a Chicago area newspaper. He was attracted to the main mission of Chabad, which is to bring young Jews back to Judaism, and thought the Rabbi (Danny Moskowitz) in the article, with his "cool, dark glasses" was a guy that could get the job done. Rabbi Moskowitz was the Midwest Director of Chabad at the time.

My dad called Rabbi Moskowitz and set up a meeting to ask how he could help. The Rabbi mentioned that Chabad was looking to establish a "house" at Northwestern University. My dad said "sure thing", and asked what type of contribution was needed to perhaps dedicate a Mezuzah or even an entire room at the new Chabad House at Northwestern. Rabbi Moskowitz had bigger ideas and my dad agreed. The photo below is of the Avrohom Yitzchok Tannenbaum Chabad House at Northwestern University. My father made a substantial donation to have the house named after his father, a Chabadnik himself. The Tannenbaum Chabad House is a major center of Jewish life at Northwestern University.

Over the years my parents continued to be significant contributors to Chabad as evidenced by the various types of recognition below: (Sorry again about my reflection in the some photos)

There have been many other organizations that have been recipients of my parent's generosity. Several have acknowledged their Tzedakah below:

A look into the JUF Book of Life reveals that my dad has made regular and significant contributions to JUF. There are so many other causes that have benefited from the generosity of my parents.

CHEER UP

I have never come across a person who has a greater desire than my father to uplift others and to bring joy into their lives and a smile to their faces. An obvious example of this is seen on his license plates below:

Over the years, friends and relatives would often wake up on their birthdays to find a surprise on the front lawn.
My dad would pull these events off anonymously. Photos of several of the many birthday surprises appear
below:

The two above are for granddaughters Becky and Rachel

The two above are for cousins Eitan Tannenbaum and Reanna Herwitz

Bob Goldstein was one of my dad's bridge partners.

My dad wrote many poems about people he admired. I'm quite certain the intention was to bring a smile to their faces. A group of these poems appears below:

JEANNIE

It was on Homan and 16th Street
That Jeannie and I were destined to meet
A toss of a coin determined our future
She had just broken up with the son of a butcher

It was on our first date that to her mother I said
Mrs. Lichtman “your daughter Jean I am going to wed”
Her beautiful smile lit up the small room
I knew she wanted her daughter to get married soon

When I took Jeannie as my wife
It was the happiest day of my life
Then came a furnished small apartment on Drexel Boulevard
In our little record shop we both worked very hard

Jeannie made me attend dancing school
No longer would I stand on the floor looking like a fool
Bridge classes she urged me to attend
Many happy hours playing this game do we spend

God gave Jeannie a talent very rare
A beautiful voice with others she can share
When she sings to the young or to the old
Her face lights up and shines like gold

Through rain or snow no performance would she miss
All the senior citizens reach out, her face to kiss
God grant her good health and a long life
I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Jeannie as my wife

The poem below was written for my father's oldest brother Jerry and his wife Madeline (Min)
on the occasion of their 45th wedding anniversary. It was requested of my father by Jerry and Min's daughter Sandy and her husband Phil.

TO JERRY AND MIN ON THEIR 45TH

From Phil and Sandy instructions for a humorous story to be read
To better express my inner feelings I am writing this poem instead
Come and let me take you by the hand down memory lane
To take this trip, thank G-D, none of us has to use a cane

Min has been a member of our family for so many years
Thru days of joy and happiness, and yes, even tears
Our sister Evelyn's best friend was she
45 years ago Min became a part of our family

Jerry and Min were married in 1941
That was their year in the sun
The years went by so very, very fast
And here we are in 1986 at last

To brother Jerry we all owe a big "thank you"
He devised a plan that was brilliant and new
To honor our father and mother, the name he gave it was the "S-A"
Into this fund all the children our money did pay

And the trip to Washington, D.C.
Jerry took me, our brother Frank to see
And how long we laughed at the station
In that great city, the capitol of our nation

When I left for the army
Jerry saved thousands of dimes for me
And when Jean and I, in 1946 bought our store
Jerry helped us with a loan, who could ask for more

The days we spent in Bloomington, we remember so well
Many are the stories we could tell
Such as Dee Dee climbing on the garage roof top
We all laughed so hard we could not stop

And so my friends we are all here to celebrate
To honor Jerry and Min his mate
Partners for 45 years in all kinds of weather
G-D grant them many, many more years together

The poem below was written about my father's older brother Harold

A MAN NAMED HAROLD

My brother Harold may his tribe increase
Tries very hard everybody to please
When you need help you can turn to him for advice
He will give you his best and never criticize

His wife and children praise him to the sky
If you knew Harold you would not have to ask why
To get more mitzvahs he will run
His love for Judaism is second to none

As a young child he put me to bed
About the great Jewish heroes to me he read
As I grew older on him I would lean
He always treated me kindly and never was mean

A truly great jogger is he
Helping others keeps him busy as a bee
And now my story is told
About a man named Harold

My dad notes in the following poem: "Since joining Beth Hillel I have met many fine, outstanding individuals. I would like to bring your attention to one unusual, unique type of person whom I have learned to love and admire. This poem is dedicated to that person, MIRIAM WOCASEK."

MIRIAM WOCASEK

There is one amongst us who has risen to the greatest of heights
I’m talking about Miriam Wocasek of the Tribe of Levites
Small of stature but a giant in every other way
Everybody listens to what Miriam has to say

As a toast maker she is the greatest you know
Join us for breakfast after morning services you will remember I told you so
She is tops as an editor and journalist and that is no rumor
As well as her love of Torah, Yiddishkeit and her sense of humor

A true Aishes Chayil is she
She always has a smile and a kiss for me
Miriam Wocasek, Beth Hillel will remember you always We wish you the best of luck and good health the rest of your days

The poem below was written about my father's childhood friend Howard Greene. They grew up together on the streets of Chicago's West Side. They attended the same Cheder - Ruchel Leah and the Yeshiva on Douglas Blvd. They then worked together in the same government office until they left for the army in 1942. Their friendship was renewed after my father joined Congregation Beth Hillel, where both he and Howard attended the daily morning minyan and Shabbat services.

HOWARD GREENE

Take my hand, my friend, down memory lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was Chicago’s West Side
On the 16th Street Car we would often ride
I knew many, many boys, some good and some mean
But very few do I remember except one or two like howard Greene

Howie stood out because he was a maverick
Everybody tries to figure out what makes him tick
With these words this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Howard Greene my friend

My father wrote this poem in August, 2000 about his new friend Rose Brooks,who he met when she was 95 years old. He introduced the poem as follows:

"There are many people living extremely long lives into the Golden Years and enjoying themselves, in spite of illness, sadness, and other adversities. This poem, then, is dedicated to Rose Brooks and the many others of her kind who are survivors who rose above their problems to attain a position of serenity and peaceful living to the fullest of their capabilities."

ROSE

When I attended Shabbat services on Saturday July 29th all alone
I never dreamed that today I would be writing this poem
That Shabbat was a lucky day for me
That’s the day I met “Rose” you see

What sets this woman from the others apart?
She is possessed of a kind and loving heart
Her beautiful brown eyes twinkling, from her lips never a sigh
It was hard to leave her that Shabbat morn, I’ll tell you why

HARRY AND ETHEL

Take my hand, my friends, down Memory lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was the avenues along 16th Street
On the corner and deli’s we would always meet
Many faces and names to my mind appear
And voices from the past I seem to hear

Harry and Ethel from this background came and met
It was love at first sight I bet
Harry and Ethel are a great pair we all know
And today, August 5th, 1995 I am here to tell them so.

And so my friends, the year is 1995
With the help of G-D we are all alive
With these words my poem ends
Jean and I are proud to call Harry and Ethel our friends.

HARRY KAPLAN

This man Harry has a good heart
I liked him from the very start
Although he has problems of his own
I have never heard him complain or moan

His wife Ethel is the greatest of mates
Among our many friends, #1 she rates
Their household is one of much love
This great blessing comes from above

To get lonely people together
Harry will go out in any kind of weather
Of the men’s club he is “prez”
All of the members pay attention to what he says

In his company it is a privilege to be
I pray that he will live to at least 103
With this good wish this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Harry Kaplan my friend

AVRAHAM BEN SHLOMO ZALMAN HAKOHEN

This poem is dedicated to a person who does not seek glory or fame
That person is Abe Kogan by name
What sets this individual from the others apart?
This man is possessed of an extremely kind and compassionate heart

Quiet and unassuming is his way
Although Abe has very much to say
Many organizations has he served as their head
And thousands of people his informative articles have read

Blessed with a wonderful loving partner for life
I am referring to Betty (Basha) his wife
Abe Kogan, I take my hat off to you
You make me proud to be a Jew

MORT FRIEDMAN

There is one amongst us who stands out
That is what this poem is all about
A man who does not seek glory or fame
Mort Friedman is his name

What sets this man from the others apart?
He is possessed of a good heart
Kind and compassionate is he its true
But I am sure these traits are known to all of you

His trips as a volunteer to Israel in these dangerous days
He has done more than his share to help in many ways
Mort Friedman, I take my hat off to you
You make me proud to be a Jew

MILT AND AGGIE GRABOW

On this day the 21st of December 1997
We come to celebrate a match made in heaven
Of course I’m referring to a couple we all know
I’m talking about Milt and Aggie Grabow

What sets Aggie and Milt from the others apart
They both are possessed of a good heart
Kind and compassionate are they its true
But I’m sure that these traits are known to all of you

Milt and Aggie we wish you the best
Now I shall give my hand a rest
And so with these words this poem ends
We are proud to call Aggie and Milt our friends

AGGIE GRABOW

Permit me, my friend, to explain what this poem is all about
As we travel down life’s path, certain individuals stand out
People who are extremely compassionate, considerate and kind
Aggie Grabow immediately comes to my mind

Her tenderness, thoughtfulness and kindness is plain to see
A true “Aishes Chayil” is she
We wish good health, happiness and a long life
To Aggie, our good friend Milt Grabow’s wife.

All our love
Milt, we certainly wish you the same

A TRIBUTE TO A FRIENDSHIP

We, who grew up on the streets of the West Side, forged friendships that have lasted all these years. This poem honors one of those friends on his forthcoming special birthday

TO EDDIE BELL

Take my hand, my friend, down Memory Lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was Homan and 16th Street
On the corner at Karp’s Deli we would always meet
Many faces and names to my mind appear

And voices from the past I seem to hear

One of those who stood out was a boy named Eddie.
Perhaps it was because with his fists he was always ready
But the most important thing I remember very well
A natural born leader was Eddie Bell

His mother and brothers come to my mind

A more beautiful family it would be hard to find
I remember a Pekinese dog named Ming-Toy
To Eddie this little dog brought much joy

And so my friend, the year is 1999
As grown men, we often ponder on the swift passage of time
With these words my poem I shall end
I am proud to call Eddie Bell my friend

SHEILA GIDEON

I should have left an hour ago for home
Instead I sit here at BHCBE writing this poem
It's about Sheila Gideon, a name known to all
Whose name should be listed on an Honor Roll wall

She is involved in many worthy causes you see
Making this world a better place for you and for me
Sheila, I wish you long life, happiness and good health too
A true Aishes Chayil are you.

ADRIENNE AND ROBIN

Beth Hillel has been blessed with many outstanding members its true
May I present 2 of the greatest to you
Honor thy mother and father, the Torah proclaims loud and clear
They certainly fulfill their obligations to one they held dear

Early in the morning come rain or come shine
Adrienne and Robin are at the chapel on time
Their attending services is not mandatory
That's what makes this such a noteworthy story

We wish good luck, good health and happiness to Adrienne and Robin too
True “Aishes Chayil” are both of you

A TRIBUTE TO UNSUNG HEROES

Congregation Bnai Emunah has unsung heroes too numerous to mention
However, kindly permit me to bring two of them to your attention
Jack Fisher and Irving Parker they go by name
Quietly and efficiently they perform their duties, not looking for fame

They can be found at most of the Congregation functions
Whether it be a kiddush or special luncheon.
Because what duties they perform are done without praise
We all certainly pray that the Lord lengthen their days

The Fisher’s, Parker’s and a multitude of others of their breed
Keeping our Congregation moving forward is their creed
The glowing spirit of Bnai Emunah will never die
Members like Jack Fisher and Irving Parker are the reason why

THE WHEELS AND SPOKES OF BNAI EMUNAH

May I introduce you to some people you should know
The wheels and spokes that make Bnai Emunah go
I am referring to our office staff and maintenance crew
They do a great job on all they are called upon to do

Sarah, our office manager, par excellent is she
Carrying out her duties she does so capably
Marlene, she of the smiling personality
You never see her irritable, cross or anything

And Kay, whom I choose to call “Chaikee”
A more pleasant person did you ever see?
They are our office staff second to none
To get a better group you would have to go some

To our maintenance crew a hearty “Thank You”
They are always there when there is a job to do

Riley, John, Brian, Brad and Charley
Our office staff and these men are the best, don't you agree?

MARILYN AND SUE

Bnai Emunah has been blessed with many outstanding members its true
May I present two of the greatest, Marilyn and Sue
Honor thy father and mother, the Torah proclaims loud and clear
They certainly fulfill their obligations to ones they held dear

Early in the morning come rain or come shine
Sue and Marilyn are at the chapel on time
Their attending services are not mandatory
Thats what makes this such a noteworthy story

We wish good health and happiness to Marilyn and Sue. True Aishes Chayil are both of you

IRWIN (ISSER) PARKER

In every congregation there is one person who stands out
That is what this poem is all about
A survivor of the Holocaust from where he came
That person is Irwin (Isser) Parker by name

Frail and weakened by what he has gone thru’
Simply because he was born a Jew
He has risen above all the trials and tribulations
To one who deserves our utmost admiration

A pillar in Congregation Bnai Emunah is this man
The Nazis were foiled in their plan
He gives 100% of his efforts in every situation

Isser Parker, we are proud to have you in our congregation

IRV MARGOLIN

It was to the first Chavura meeting that I came
Then I met this gentleman, Irv Margolin, by name
Irv made a statement loud and clear
“I’m not so sure that I belong here”

When it comes to discussing matters affecting Jews
Irv and I are very much in agreement in our views
However, when it comes to politics and we have our say
There is where we have a parting of the way

Irv, I respect and admire your knowledge and your wit
But can’t you ease up on the Democrats just a bit?
With these words this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Irv Margolin my friend

Of course, Grace, Jean and I both love you too

I assume from the above poem that my dad was a Democrat at one time. Thankfully, age has brought wisdom and he changed party affiliation.

A TRIBUTE TO RABBI HAROLD I. STERN

Take my hand, my friend down memory lane

To the year 1975 when to Congregation Bnai Emunah I came
In the Chapel in the morning I took my seat

That was the first time Rabbi Stern did I meet

The services (which he initiated) when all of us would sing
The walls of the Chapel would seem to ring
All of us certainly were so inspired I believe
When at the end of the services we would leave

Who can forget the in and out-of-town retreat
Many of the congregation members would be there for us to meet
The discussion groups, buzz sessions, and camaraderie
And Rabbi Stern’s words would forever be in our memory

His sermons to us were always a revelation

We learned so much about our Jewish nation
Because of Rabbi Stern’s interpretation you see
Judaism to us would no longer be a mystery

We thank Rabbi Stern for those thousands of sermons inspirational
All of the members knew they were so sensational
For those many, many people who about Judaism they would like to learn
I give you teacher par excellence,
RABBI HAROLD I. STERN

MY FRIEND AL KATZ

It was June 16th, 1942
That “Aidle” Al Katz came into view
Small of stature, but a giant in every other way
I’ve always paid close attention to what he had to say

A husband “par excellence” is he
Ask Helen, I’m sure she will agree
Three fine children he brought up
And a most unusual dog, he raised from a pup

We met at the induction center on Harrison Street
Ah, civilian life had seemed so sweet
On to Camp Grant on the train we rode
Seated next to this Italian soldier about 20 years o1d

We parted company but for only a while
Traveling over the country many a mile
In Davis-Monthan Field at the orderly room I opened the door
And there was Al Katz washing the floor

We’ve shared many a laugh and a few tears too
When ever we meet we ask each other “What’s new”
I'm proud to call Al Katz my friend
And on this note this poem I shall end

The Tannenbaum and Katz families were neighbors for many years on Chicago's South Side. We lived on the 9000 block of East End and the Katz's were on the 8900 block of Ridgeland, one block east of us. I was friendly with the Katz children - Michael, Irene and Elyse and both of our families were active members of Congregation Rodfei Shalom Or Chodosh on the 9100 block of Euclid.

This poem was written about two years after the birth of our first daughter Rachel

TO RACHEL

On that special day, August 31st, 1987
A small bundle of joy came from heaven
Rachel, child of love
G-d's beautiful gift from above

What set's this child from the rest apart?
Her special way of giving from the heart
Whether it be a cookie, toy or picture book
She gives it to you gladly, in her face that quizzical look

And when she laughs or smiles at you in her winning way
You know that surely helps to make our day
If the Lord one wish he would grant us to make
The walk to the marriage canopy with Rachel he would allow us to take

And to our favorite couple Chuck and Sue
Our heartfelt thanks to both of you
Because you have shown us that you care
In your joy and happiness you allow us to share

So in 1989 on this Sunday, the 7th of May
Your Grandma Jean and Papa Max have had their say
And to Rachel, Sue and Chuck
All our love and forever the best of luck

Grandma Jean and Papa Max

BECKY
Your smile lights up the Room
When you come in
Everybody knows of the Becky Smile

So keep on smiling
And the whole world
Will smile with you

Papa Max

TO MY SON, CHUCK

It seems like it was just yesterday
That you and I were busy at play
To give you brothers and sisters was our plan
But that decision is made by God, not by man

In the cold of winter I pulled you on your sled
And many were the days I tucked you into bed
The days of practicing baseball at the park
We played and played until late into the dark

Finally in Little League you became a member
And those hits you made, how well I remember
Suddenly you were a Bar Mitzvah boy
To the entire family you brought great joy

Remember the days in the rec room we played pool
And here you are now graduating high school
The night of the prom we will never forget
We were the last to leave, I bet

Then the college days came into view
No longer a child, you were now a man, I knew
And when you became “Doctor T”
I was as proud as any man could be

To err is human there is no question
And to this axiom you are no exception
But that is all in the past, son
The race has hardly begun
There will be more mountains to scale
I know in my heart that you will not fail

Dear God, why must time go by so fast
And why can’t the good days forever last
But I guess we must keep moving on, Chuck
All my love, and forever, the best of luck

Dad

My father's great sense of humor is apparent in the poem below which was written in response to some correspondence (I wish I knew what it was) he had from an officer of Cong. Bnai Emunah's sisterhood:

GREETINGS FROM A NON-MEMBER

This morning your poem and napkin was in my mail chute

And as always I found it was all very cute

But may I register a complaint very small,

I thought I would write this note to you rather than call

This is a sisterhood affair I knew

But your napkin was all pink instead of partly blue

The checks that you receive that are sent without fail

Are oft times signed, not by a woman, but a male

So give us men our just do

And in your next non-event think of us too

Winter is all but gone and so is my tan

And here is my check, signed by a man

Your favorite non-member,

Max Tannenbaum

More here on my father's sense of humor and good nature. Anyone who called the Tannenbaum family home when my parents were out will remember hearing the following message:

TANNENBAUM HOME TELEPHONE MESSAGE

Sorry, when you called - we were not at home
To make up for it - we wrote this poem
If you have a message for us to hear
Kindly give it to us after the beep - nice, loud and c.....l.....e.....a......r

And more humor from my dad as he questions the wisdom of his friend Jack Katz's decision to move out west.

TO JACK KATZ

My friends, we are all gathered here today
To help send Jack Katz on his way
When he leaves, our hearts go out to Jack
But to tell the truth, do we really want him back?

When the hot, hot sun hits Jack’s head
And on the muggy nights when he goes to bed
One thing you can be sure
Walking in the hot desert is no cure

I know this may sound a bit tacky
But won’t the hot sun make Jack a little wacky?
And so, this poem I must now end
Are we really proud to call Jack Katz our friend?

The following letter to Joseph Aaron of the Chicago Jewish News was published, expressing some general disagreements with Aaron's positons, but in a nice and humorous way.

IT COULD BE VERSE

I have had some disagreements with Mr. Aaron - 1st name Joe
And several times I have written and told him so
However his newspaper, The Chicago Jewish News
Is must reading for all concerned Jews

He fearlessly expounds his viewpoints and has his say
And lets the chips fall where they may
Mr. Aaron, I take my hat off to you
I'm anxiously awaiting your next issue to read what's new

IMPORTANCE OF A CLOSELY KNIT FAMILY

I remember so many occasions which brought our large extended family together. Often on Jewish holidays, the Tannenbaum parties were known to stir up quite a storm. Our Pesach seders and Chanukah parties still remain particularly spirited. Also, we often had cousins club parties. My parents were always very involved in these family functions. My dad often told me how important he felt it was to keep bringing the family together.

Although my father was not involved in planning this particular event, the photo below shows a banquet gathering of the Esther Rivka Cousins Club at the Blue Inn on May 22, 1938. Many in attendance had immigrated from the Kiev area of Russia. I've circled my father in White; his parents (my bubbie and zadie) in Blue, his older brother Harold and wife Gene in Red and my dad's oldest brother Jerry in Yellow. My Aunt Evie is to the right of my Uncle Jerry.

1956 gathering for the 50th anniversary of Bubbie and Zadie Tannenbaum.
My mom, dad, aunts, uncles and first cousins are all there.
My Aunt Gene, on the right of my zadie in the picture is wearing black beads,
as she is mourning the recent loss of her father.

To help foster close family relationships, for many years my parents hosted a dinner party for our extended family and friends. The group was too large to entertain at home, so my parents would rent out the social hall of Bnai Emunah for the event, and bring in food from "Kosher Gourmet". There were games and a good time was had by all. The following poem kicked off one of these dinner parties on Jan 5, 1992:

OPENING REMARKS (POEM) AT A TANNENBAUM FAMILY GET TOGETHER

We would like to thank all of our family, friends and relations
For coming here tonight to join Jean and I in our celebrations
Togetherness is where its at
That certainly is a well known fact

I'm glad that we had good weather
For this Jean and Max Tannenbaum get-together
And now permit me to state
Two other reasons for coming here to celebrate

Rebecca, our granddaughter on January 7th will be 2
She's a good little girl, if you only knew
A cute little lady with plenty of style
She can really turn you on with her beautiful smile

A Wedding Anniversary is surely a special day
And now I am going to have my say
We all wish Sue and Chuck much happiness and joy
Hey, you two, how about a baby boy

Dad reciting his poem at the Jan 5, 1992 Tannenbaum Family party at Bnai Emunah

Cousin Dr. Phil Unell loading up a plate at an annual Tannenbaum party thrown by mom and dad

A BELIEF IN ANGELS

I have had many conversations with my dad during which he expressed his feeling that his life has been blessed. It certainly has not all been a cakewalk. In particular, my mother's protracted Alzheimer's disease was very, very difficult. But my father instinctively maintains a positive outlook on life, and does not believe that mere coincidence explains the many good things that have happened to him.

He believes that G-d, Hashem, along with the angels of Hashem have been with him for every good thing that has happened. I am certain that this is the main reason for his lifelong optimism. He jotted down a few of the events that have cemented his belief that HaShem's angels have protected him throughout his life.

Anna, one of the angels from Poland my dad is
referring to above took the best possible care of my mom.

Anna with my mom

Dad, mom and Anna

MY DAD AS A FATHER

Let me first say that I was very fortunate to grow up with two wonderful parents. While this story is about my father, I am also grateful to have had a most loving and wonderful mother - Jean Tannenbaum.

From my earliest recollections, I felt really lucky to have such a great dad. I remember that as a young boy, I was well aware of the long hours that my dad worked, but I always felt that he looked forward to spending time with me. And growing up, we did spend a lot of time together. I have so many fond memories. Although, perhaps not the safest thing to do, I remember how he put me in his lap behind the steering wheel of the car and made me feel that I was driving the car. I remember car rides with friends, where my dad would be able to work himself up into a laughing frenzy with no particular basis for the laughter. The contagious laughter would be so great that we had to pull off the road to calm down. He always had time to play ball, teach me to ride a bike, go biking with me, take me to White Sox games, and be at every Little League baseball game and every school function that a parent could attend. This included chaperoning the high school prom - one thing I wished he could have missed. He always expressed pride in my achievements, never suggesting that I could have done better. He bought the biggest combination pool/ping-pong table that fit into our basement and would spend hours playing grueling games of ping pong with me. I remember how we would both work up an amazing sweat.

Perhaps it was because my dad was in the music business, but there was a unique "coolness" to him. He was the rare combination of being both the most religiously observant and "hippest" of my friend's fathers. As a result, my childhood friends liked him too. Or perhaps it was because he often would take us to a local park (Jeffrey Park on the South Side of Chicago) to play baseball. I must admit that it sometimes bothered me that my friends enjoyed his company so much.

My dad always wanted to sit down and talk with me about how things were going in school or just about life in general. One incident in particular stands out. As a teenager, I had bad acne and would frequently get upset about it. I will always remember the night I was feeling a little too sorry for myself and was sobbing in bed because of my bad skin. It was a summer night - so no school for me, but my dad had to go to work in the morning. I remember how he heard me sobbing and came into my bedroom at 1:00 am, and stayed talking to me for what was likely a couple of hours. He was really able to cheer me up.

And my dad's kind and caring way has continued throughout my entire life. Simply put - my dad has always been there for me.

I have learned so much from my dad from the examples he set. Thinking back, one thing in particular stands out that has benefited me most. Though I didn't realize it until I was an adult, I absolutely never sensed any envy in my dad. He is happy for others who have more but is perfectly content with his lot in life. I also learned from him (and of course - from my mother too) about the importance of being charitable. My father and mother have both set great examples of living charitably. Also, my dad is the eternal optimist. The cup has always been half full for him. One reason for his optimism is his firm belief that none of the blessings in his life have come to him by chance, but instead through divine intervention. While I sure have my moods, I believe that my father's optimism has rubbed off on me. As they say - "it couldn't hurt" to be around that positive attitude.

My dad has always told me how important he feels it is to try to make a difference with one's life, primarily through making an improvement in the lives of others. It's easy to see that he's accomplished his goal. My dad is certainly a tough act to follow, but I'm lucky to have such a fine example to emulate.

A BUNCH OF PHOTOS

MOM and DAD

10th Anniversary

10th anniversary with Dad's Ma and Pa

25th anniversary party at the Knickerbocker Hotel with it's glass floor

Mom and Dad dancing together in 1970

New Years Eve 1973. A designated driver took them home.

Enjoying friend's anniversary party in 1979

At Bnai Emunah's 1981 Camp Chi Retreat

Mom and dad in 1984

Mom and Dad in 1995

Mom and Dad in 1998

Mom and Dad in 2003

FUN FAMILY VACATIONS

Jamaica Hilton - 1966

A 1967 cruise on the Princessa Leopoldina

After taking fun family vacations locally in Wisconsin at Oakton Manor, Nippersink and Pine Point, my parents started to go to Florida, California and often to Jamaica (including Kingston), and Mexico. In 1967, we ventured on a Caribbean cruise aboard the Princessa Leopoldina.

MY BAR MITZVAH

Dad, Uncles Frank and Jerry and me - August, 1964

With my parents at my Bar Mitzvah party at the Morrison Hotel

Family photo at my Bar Mitzvah party. My Zadie and Aunt Evie had passed away. Aunt Evie's
nurse, Mary Adams remained very close to our family. She's in the picture standing above me.

AT MY WEDDING TO SUE

WITH RACHEL AND BECKY

Papa Max and granddaughter Rachel

Rachel's Bat Mitzvah

Papa Max with Granddaughter Becky

Becky's Bat Mitzvah

Rachel Papa Max Becky

Max imillion dollar smile in 1982

Sheer Contentment in 1985

Dad with lifelong friend Howard Greene and his wife Carole

The four photos above are of Dad at his home in Morton Grove
Those are some luxurious gardens

Me and my Dad - 2007

Me and my Dad - 2009

IN CONCLUSION

On February 19, 2012 my dad and I attended the Midwest Region Men's Club "Man of The Year" brunch. Rabbi Jeff Pivo made a presentation which really made an impression on me, as it was very relevant to the story of my father's life. Rabbi Pivo stated that "in Pirkei Avot (Sayings of Our Fathers) we learn that there are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty. Those were the three ways of claiming the mantle of Jewish authority near the end of the Temple period and the beginning of the Rabbinic era. They represent leadership through three primary paths: the path of learning, the path of ritual leadership, and the path of political and military rule. Each of them is a pillar of the idealized Jewish kingdom. But, the text in Avot goes on to say THE CROWN OF A GOOD NAME SURPASSES ALL OF THESE. Imagine it: In a culture in which learning, religious ritual and monarchy were the highest shared values, THE COMMON MAN OF GOOD REPUTATION HAD IT ALL OVER THEM".

Rabbi Pivo intended his remarks to honor the "men of the year" from the various Men's Clubs in attendance, but his comments about a good name are very appropriate for my father too. He exemplifies the man with a good name - honest in business, modest, charitable with time and money, concerned for the communities he lives and works in, bringing joy into the lives of others, loving to family, a good and reliable friend, and setting a good example for others to follow.

Paraphrasing Rabbi Pivo, may it be God's will that my dad continues to have years of good health and to be able to find the strength of body and character, which inspires us all, to strive toward the crown of a good name.

THE COMPLETE POETRY COLLECTION

Dad's poems appear interspersed throughout of his life story above, but I've collected them here too.

My father's first poem was submitted at the "In-Town Retreat", Jewish Identity Project, Congregation Bnai Emunah on November 7, 1981. He was 62 years old at the time.

THESE THINGS DO I REMEMBER

Erev Shabbos the candles flicker
The men folks drinking, but no one's "shicker"
We welcome the sabbath, everybody's singing
No one answers the telephone's ringing

My father going to "shul" on Shabbos morn
In his best suit, clean, but worn
After lunch the men go to bed
Thinking about what the Rabbi had said

Pesach with the "mishpacha" at the Seder
I recite the 4 Questions I learned in "Cheder"
I remember all the holidays, cheerful and some sad
Like Yom Kippur when my stomach hurt bad

When Israel became a state, I cried with joy
The first time I cried since I was a boy
And many other things do I remember
On this 7th day of November

The following poem was inspired by the Congregation Bnai Emunah pilgrimage to Israel from December 20, 1981 to January 3, 1982:

A PILGRIMAGE TO ISRAEL

That wonderful day has finally come
We are on our way to Jerusalem
All our hearts are filled with anticipation
To see with our own eyes that wonderful nation

On the 21st of December in Tel Aviv we land
31 pilgrims composed our band
We are off to the Lubavitch K'far Chabad
Then on to a visit to Kibbutz Saad

We honor Harry Kaplan and Ethel his mate
In the Judean Hills their forest we dedicate
Then on to Jerusalem, the "City of Gold"
Sworn by our people forever to hold

To the little town of Netivot
We travel to perform the greatest of Mitzvot
From our members of Bnai Emunah are the contributions
Among the poor and needy we make the distributions

Everywhere the Israeli soldiers with their Uzi machine gun
Four great victories have they won
On Massada's peak they are sworn
Nevermore from our grasp Israel to be torn

Erev Shabbos we leave our hotel
To view and worship at the Kotel
To Israel we know how strong is our ties
As we kiss the great stones with tears in our eyes

As our travels come to an end

To our people a message we send

To Jews everywhere this country extends their hand

Come, come and see...........the Promised Land

The following poem was written about one of many Bnai Emunah retreats to Camp Chi in Wisconsin:

THE CAMP CHI RETREAT

Everybody would have a great time we were told
Our group consisted of over 60 souls, young & old
To our relatives & friends we said good bye
As the bus took off for wonderful Camp Chi

On the bus guess who took over
None other than energetic Beverly Jacover
With her wine, popcorn & cookies galore
The El Al Stewardess could offer no more

A sumptuous Sabbath meal was enjoyed by all
Then we all walked to the Chapel Hall
On the tables were all the candles burning bright
The women recited the Sabbath blessing, what a heart-warming sight

After services Rabbi Stern, introducing a stimulating subject, took command
Encouraging the members to take a stand
It was late in the evening when we all went to bed
Meditating on the interesting discussion we had

Shabbos morn Seymour Cooper led us in prayers loud & clear
The Lord in the Heaven above, our voices did not have to strain to hear
The rafters in the Chapel were ringing
While the birds in the trees outside joined in the singing

After lunch Jean Tannenbaum led us in song old and new
We all joined Al & Naomi Edelson in celebrating their anniversary too
The game at night was won by the team of Walter Thaiheimer
His “Georgia” skit was so great we forgot about the timer
We all thought Harry Kaplan was fibbing
When he came on stage, ad-libbing

The beautiful “Havdalah” service at night
Holding the candles were 2 youngsters with eyes so bright
The singing into the late hours will be remembered by all
And everybody agreed we certainly “had a ball”

Everyone attended the “buzz” session sitting in the sun
Rabbi Stern’s program was stimulating as well as fun
Libby Benjamin, Adele Winter, Dr. Seldin & others gave their views
On some of the problems facing us as Jews

The sun was shining brightly in the sky
As we with joyful songs and happy hearts left Camp Chi
To Rabbi Stern and Dave Jacover a big “Thank You”
We’re all looking forward to next year, old friendships to renew

THE LITTLE OLD SHUL

That little old shul was something special to me
That is where I spent most of my childhood you see
In the middle of the block it stood
Made with some bricks, but mostly wood

I remember during some winters the shul was without heat
To keep warm we stamped out feet
In the summer we all would sweat
It must have been over 100 degrees, I bet

Old Michel who drank whiskey 120 proof
Then started to jump, I thought he would hit the roof
Sholom the Sofer, may he rest in peace,
Writing the Torah was his expretise

Mr. Carl, with a voice so coarse
He was a peddler with a wagon and horse
He would pinch my cheeks until they bled
Whenever I would see him to my father I fled

Many other faces from my memory fade
When they were alive, what an impression they made
If I had one wish, this little old shul would I bring back again
To relive those happy days with all the boys and men

THOUGHTS TO PONDER

If you were to ask me where I would look
To search for material to write a book
It would not be difficult subjects to find
May I offer you a couple that have been running through my mind.

Were the Viet Cong really our enemy
10,000 miles away across the sea
And how many young lives were thrown away
So some mighty general might have his egotistical way

And the Chinese with his yellow skin
Is that any reason we should hate him
Why can't we extend a hand of friendship to that nation
And help them with our technology and automation

To offer under-developed nations our expertise
Would be a giant step toward achieving peace
If on this earth there would be more love
Then we could receive the Lord's blessing from above

If with my opinions you disagree
I appreciate your listening to me
Now it is your turn to speak out
That's what our democracy is all about.

THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE WINDOW

I sit here alone in the room writing this poem
It is a story of a resident of an old people's home
Once a week at the home I would appear
She would be looking out the window seated in her chair

I asked her gently who she expected to see
She said "My children may come to visit me"
Her prettiest dress of silk and lace she wore
She always smiled at me when I came through the door

"This week have your children come to visit you?"
"No" she said "they had other things to do.
One son is a great doctor, another is a big lawyer.
He lives not far from here on Dempster and Lawler".

"Another son is a C.P.A.
The last time he visited me was 3 years ago in May.
I love all my children so very much
Even though with me they do not keep in touch."

Week after week I came
Her story to me was always the same
Last week when I looked for the little old lady in silk and lace
There was another little old lady sitting in her place.

The above poem was put in the Sentinel by my father on one Mothers Day. He referred to it as "a message to all Sentinel readers" followed by "Honor your Father and Mother that your days may be lengthened". My father and mother would make weekly visits to the Northwest Home for the Aged in Chicago on California Avenue. Their parents were not residents, but they would come to lead the residents in current events discussions and in song.

THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE WINDOW
(sequel - 15 years later)

He was sitting alone in the lounge, drink in hand
The musicians were playing but he did not hear the band
He had a far away look in his eye
He beckoned me to sit at his table as I passed by

Hair of steel gray, he was a handsome man
Although it was winter, he had a golden tan
His name which he gave me I did not know
He said he remembered seeing me at an Old Peoples Home years ago

"I made a great deal of money in my day
When I was not busy at work, I spent much time at play
I raised three children, now all grown
They live far away in other cities, and now I'm all alone"

He pulled a worn picture from his pocket for me to see
Now everything came back to me
The kindly old face I remembered well
But to him, my story I did not tell

He said "Its too late, my friend, to undo the past
But memories forever do last"
I left him sitting there, staring at his drink
He had lots of time now to ..............think, think, think

THE STAINED GLASS WINDOWS

A beautiful spiritual feeling envelopes you
As you gaze at the colors red, brown, gold and blue
The stained glass windows are an artist's rendition
Of Judaism's glory and its great tradition

As your eyes move from one side to the other
You notice the name honoring a beloved father
Here we see Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac his son
Substituted by a ram who into a thicket has run

The Shofar, Kiddush Cup, and Tallith too
The Siddur with its Star of David of blue
From the outstretched Kohen's hands
To the Esrog and Lulav tied with willow bands

The golden Torah pointer resting on the Holy Script
The page seems from the Torah ripped
The 12 tribes of Israel are also there
The beautiful stained glass windows are for everyone to share

The Lord's name shines forth from the center
Blessing all those through the door enter

The above poem was inspired by the stained glass windows in the Rabinovitz Chapel at Congregation Bnai Emunah

THE QUIET PLACE

To get away from this earth's unrelenting pace
I go to what I call "The Quiet Place"
There you can relax and let your mind wander
You read about Moses splitting the Red Sea asunder

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and the rest
How they responded when G-d put them to the test
Our great heroes like Judah the Maccabee
And Jonah in the whale lost at sea

The cantor chants in his beautiful voice
Everybody listens quietly men women and boys
The Rabbi on the bima expounds on the Torah
My attention is drawn to the lovely Menorah

The burning bush on the wall so high
My heart skips a beat, you know the reason why
The Ark is opened, and what a beautiful sight
Gold and silver embroidered Torahs standing upright

As the services come to an end
This message comes to my mind to send
I implore you my friend, ease up on the race
Come and join me in "The Quiet Place"

(Services at Bnai Emunah)

A MORNING MINYONAIRE

I became a minyonaire in 1967
That's the year my mother went to heaven
Bright and early every morning did I arise
Fighting to keep the slumber from my eyes

Each and every morning I came
However the services all seemed to be the same
1968, 1969 and up until 1975
That year in Morton Grove did I arrive

Early in the morning to Cong. Bnai Emunah I drove
To Rabbi Stern I said "Boker Tov"
In the chapel, I sat down with the rest
Then joined in the singing, I did my best

After services in the Rabbi's study did I appear
I said "What beautiful services you have here"
Then he smiled in a knowing way
He knew that I was here to stay

CONGREGATION BETH HILLEL

There is an old saying my friends, that I'm sure you've heard before
That when one door closes, there opens another door
Joining Beth Hillel Congregation
Is the reason for my celebration

Attending services with my boyhood friend Howard Greene, Hershel, Albert A., Bruce, Jerry, Joe, to name a few
Makes me proud to be a Jew
At Beth Hillel there is a great feeling of camaraderie
And I am also joining my son Chuck and his family

Rabbi Altshuler's sermons are a pleasure to hear
And Cantor Wasser's beautiful Shabbat services, and his special rendition of the Yizkor services brought to my eyes many a tear
With these words I shall end this poem
I am proud to call Congregation Beth Hillel my new home

OPENING REMARKS (POEM) AT A TANNENBAUM FAMILY GET TOGETHER

We would like to thank all of our family, friends and relations
For coming here tonight to join Jean and I in our celebrations
Togetherness is where its at
That certainly is a well known fact

I'm glad that we had good weather
For this Jean and Max Tannenbaum get-together
And now permit me to state
Two other reasons for coming here to celebrate

Rebecca, our granddaughter on January 7th will be 2
She's a good little girl, if you only knew
A cute little lady with plenty of style
She can really turn you on with her beautiful smile

A Wedding Anniversary is surely a special day
And now I am going to have my say
We all wish Sue and Chuck much happiness and joy
Hey, you two, how about a baby boy

BROTHERHOOD

Last night my friend Dave said “Mr. T
About Brotherhood write a poem for me”
Brotherhood is a beautiful word no doubt
Let me tell you what I think Brotherhood is all about

We must from the beginning start
Brotherhood has to come straight from the heart
To erase that expression “Man’s inhumanity to man”
Intolerance and prejudice we must forever ban

To fulfill some worthwhile cherished dream
We must all work together as a team
Working towards a common goal in unity
Everyone doing their best to improve their community

To better serve the Lord in the Heavens above
Then we shall all be worthy of His love

SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS

May I ask this question of you, my friend
Where is this all going to end?
I am referring to intermarriage and assimilation
That is threatening to destroy the very roots of Judaism’s foundation

After all these thousands of years
And rivers of blood and oceans of tears
Did our great sages and martyrs die in vain
So as the holy name of G-D not to profane?

Consider our glorious past and proud tradition
Will some future generation think of as just so much fiction?

And what of our great contributions in many fields of endeavor
Are these to be erased from history forever?

Was the cause of our problem our complacency?
Or was it perhaps our affluency?
Did our teachers fail their pupils to reach?
And where were our leaders to help stop the breach?

Initially, my father left the last andtwo lines off, ending the poem with "affluency?" and then followed it with "????????????????????"

He added the following postscript: "Due to the sensitivity of this subject I decided to leave this poem unfinished.............(We will have to wait for history to give us the answer to the above question). Kindly note: There already has been statements made that the Holocaust never took place."

He later added the final two lines.

My father has a great sense of humor as you will see in the poem below which was written in response to some correspondence (I wish I knew what it was) he had from an officer of Cong. Bnai Emunah's sisterhood:

GREETINGS FROM A NON-MEMBER

This morning your poem and napkin was in my mail chute

And as always I found it was all very cute

But may I register a complaint very small,

I thought I would write this note to you rather than call

This is a sisterhood affair I knew

But your napkin was all pink instead of partly blue

The checks that you receive that are sent without fail

Are oft times signed, not by a woman, but a male

So give us men our just do

And in your next non-event think of us too

Winter is all but gone and so is my tan

And here is my check, signed by a man

Your favorite non-member,

Max Tannenbaum

More here on my father's sense of humor and good nature. Anyone who has called the Tannenbaum family home when my parent's were not there to take to call will remember hearing the following message:

TANNENBAUM HOME TELEPHONE MESSAGE

Sorry, when you called - we were not at home
To make up for it - we wrote this poem
If you have a message for us to hear
Kindly give it to us after the beep - nice, loud and c.....l.....e.....a......r

And more humor from my dad as he questions the wisdom of his friend Jack Katz's decision to move out west.

TO JACK KATZ

My friends, we are all gathered here today
To help send Jack Katz on his way
When he leaves, our hearts go out to Jack
But to tell the truth, do we really want him back?

When the hot, hot sun hits Jack’s head
And on the muggy nights when he goes to bed
One thing you can be sure
Walking in the hot desert is no cure

I know this may sound a bit tacky
But won’t the hot sun make Jack a little wacky?
And so, this poem I must now end
Are we really proud to call Jack Katz our friend?

The following letter to Joseph Aaron of the Chicago Jewish News was published, expressing some general disagreements with Aaron's positons, but done in a nice and humorous way.

IT COULD BE VERSE

I have had some disagreements with Mr. Aaron - 1st name Joe
And several times I have written and told him so
However his newspaper, The Chicago Jewish News
Is must reading for all concerned Jews

He fearlessly expounds his viewpoints and has his say
And lets the chips fall where they may
Mr. Aaron, I take my hat off to you
I'm anxiously awaiting your next issue to read what's new

JEANNIE

It was on Homan and 16th Street
That Jeannie and I were destined to meet
A toss of a coin determined our future
She had just broken up with the son of a butcher

When I took Jeannie as my wife
It was the happiest day of my life
Then came a furnished small apartment on Drexel Boulevard
In our little record shop we both worked very hard

Jeannie made me attend dancing school
No longer would I stand on the floor looking like a fool
Bridge classes she urged me to attend
Many happy hours playing this game do we spend

God gave Jeannie a talent very rare
A beautiful voice with others she can share
When she sings to the young or to the old
Her face lights up and shines like gold

The following poem was written for my father's oldest brother Jerry and his wife Madeline (Min)
occasion of their 45th wedding anniversary. It was requested of my father by Jerry and Min's daughter
Sandy and her husband Phil.
TO JERRY AND MIN ON THEIR 45TH

From Phil and Sandy instructions for a humorous story to be read
To better express my inner feelings I am writing this poem instead
Come and let me take you by the hand down memory lane
To take this trip, thank G-D, none of us has to use a cane

Min has been a member of our family for so many years
Thru days of joy and happiness, and yes, even tears
Our sister Evelyn's best friend was she
45 years ago Min became a part of our family

Jerry and Min were married in 1941
That was their year in the sun
The years went by so very, very fast
And here we are in 1986 at last

To brother Jerry we all owe a big "thank you"
He devised a plan that was brilliant and new
To honor our father and mother, the name he gave it was the "S-A"
Into this fund all the children our money did pay

And the trip to Washington, D.C.
Jerry took me, our brother Frank to see
And how long we laughed at the station
In that great city, the capitol of our nation

When I left for the army
Jerry saved thousands of dimes for me
And when Jean and I, in 1946 bought our store
Jerry helped us with a loan, who could ask for more

The days we spent in Bloomington, we remember so well
Many are the stories we could tell
Such as Dee Dee climbing on the garage roof top
We all laughed so hard we could not stop

And so my friends we are all here to celebrate
To honor Jerry and Min his mate
Partners for 45 years in all kinds of weather
G-D grant them many, many more years together

A MAN NAMED HAROLD

My brother Harold may his tribe increase
Tries very hard everybody to please
When you need help you can turn to him for advice
He will give you his best and never criticize

His wife and children praise him to the sky
If you knew Harold you would not have to ask why
To get more mitzvahs he will run
His love for Judaism is second to none

As a young child he put me to bed
About the great Jewish heroes to me he read
As I grew older on him I would lean
He always treated me kindly and never was mean

A truly great jogger is he
Helping others keeps him busy as a bee
And now my story is told
About a man named Harold

This poem was written about my father's childhood friend Howard Greene. They grew up together on the streets of Chicago's West Side. They attended the same Cheder - Ruchel Leah and the Yeshiva on Douglas Blvd. They then worked together in the same government office until they left for the army in 1942. Their friendship was renewed after my father joined Congregation Beth Hillel, where both he and Howard attended the daily morning minyan and Shabbat services.

HOWARD GREENE

Take my hand, my friend, down memory lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was Chicago’s West Side
On the 16th Street car we would often ride
I knew many, many boys, some good and some mean
But very few do I remember except one or two like howard Greene

Howie stood out because he was a maverick
Everybody tries to figure out what makes him tick
With these words this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Howard Greene my friend

My father wrote this poem in August 2000 about his new friend Rose Brooks. He met her when she was 95 years old. He introduced the poem as follows:

ROSE

When I attended Shabbat services on Saturday July 29th all alone
I never dreamed that today I would be writing this poem
That Shabbat was a lucky day for me
That’s the day I met “Rose” you see

Her attitude on life was positive and upbeat
Listening to her stories was certainly a treat
I would like to ask a favor if I may
That Rose would invite me to that special party on her 100th birthday

SHEILA GIDEON

I should have left an hour ago for home
Instead I sit here at BHCBE writing this poem
It's about Sheila Gideon, a name known to all
Whose name should be listed on an Honor Roll wall

She is involved in many worthy causes you see
Making this world a better place for you and for me
Sheila, I wish you long life, happiness and good health too
A true Aishes Chayil are you.

For friends of my parents, Harry and Ethel Kaplan

HARRY AND ETHEL

Take my hand, my friends, down Memory lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was the avenues along 16th Street
On the corner and deli’s we would always meet
Many faces and names to my mind appear
And voices from the past I seem to hear

Harry and Ethel from this background came and met
It was love at first sight I bet
Harry and Ethel are a great pair we all know
And today, August 5th, 1995 I am here to tell them so.

And so my friends, the year is 1995
With the help of G-D we are all alive
With these words my poem ends
Jean and I are proud to call Harry and Ethel our friends.

HARRY KAPLAN

This man Harry has a good heart
I liked him from the very start
Although he has problems of his own
I have never heard him complain or moan

His wife Ethel is the greatest of mates
Among her many friends #1 she rates
Their household is one of much love
This great blessing comes from above

To get lonely people together
Harry will go out in any kind of weather
Of the men’s club he is “prez”
All of the members pay attention to what he says

In his company it is a privilege to be
I pray that he will live to at least 103
With this good wish this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Harry Kaplan my friend

AVRAHAM BEN SHLOMO ZALMAN HAKOHEN

Quiet and unassuming is his way
Although Abe has very much to say
Many organizations has he served as their head
And thousands of people his informative articles have read

Blessed with a wonderful loving partner for life
I am referring to Betty (Basha) his wife
Abe Kogan, I take my hat off to you
You make me proud to be a Jew

MORT FRIEDMAN

There is one amongst us who stands out
That is what this poem is all about
A man who does not seek glory or fame
Mort Friedman is his name

What sets this man from the others apart?
He is possessed of a good heart
Kind and compassionate is he its true
But I am sure these traits are known to all of you

His trips as a volunteer to Israel in these dangerous days
He has done more than his share to help in many ways
Mort Friedman, I take my hat off to you
You make me proud to be a Jew

MILT AND AGGIE GRABOW

On this day the 21st of December 1997
We come to celebrate a match made in heaven
Of course I’m referring to a couple we all know
I’m talking about Milt and Aggie Grabow

What sets Aggie and Milt from the others apart
They both are possessed of a good heart
Kind and compassionate are they its true
But I’m sure that these traits are known to all of you

Milt and Aggie we wish you the best
Now I shall give my hand a rest
And so with these words this poem ends
We are proud to call Aggie and Milt our friends

AGGIE GRABOW

Her tenderness, thoughtfulness and kindness is plain to see
A true “Aishes Chayil” is she
We wish good health, happiness and a long life
To Aggie, our good friend Milt Grabow’s wife.

All our love
Milt, we certainly wish you the same

A TRIBUTE TO A FRIENDSHIP

We, who grew up on the streets of the West Side, forged friendships that have lasted all these years. This poem honors one of those friends on his forthcoming special birthday

TO EDDIE BELL

Take my hand, my friend, down Memory Lanes
Of an era and a place that today nothing remains
Where we spent many a happy and carefree day
It all seems so long ago and far away

The place was Homan and 16th Street
On the corner at Karp’s Deli we would always meet
Many faces and names to my mind appear

And voices from the past I seem to hear

One of those who stood out was a boy named Eddie.
Perhaps it was because with his fists he was always ready
But the most important thing I remember very well
A natural born leader was Eddie Bell

His mother and brothers come to my mind
A more beautiful family it would be hard to find
I remember a Pekinese dog named Ming-Toy
To Eddie this little dog brought much joy

And so my friend, the year is 1999

As grown men, we often ponder on the swift passage of time
With these words my poem I shall end
I am proud to call Eddie Bell my friend

ADRIENNE AND ROBIN

Early in the morning come rain or come shine
Adrienne and Robin are at the chapel on time
Their attending services is not mandatory
That's what makes this such a noteworthy story

We wish good luck, good health and happiness to Adrienne and Robin too
True “Aishes Chayil” are both of you

A TRIBUTE TO UNSUNG HEROES

Sarah, our office manager, par excellent is she
Carrying out her duties she does so capably
Marlene, she of the smiling personality
You never see her irritable, cross or anything

And Kay, whom I choose to call “Chaikee”
A more pleasant person did you ever see?
They are our office staff second to none
To get a better group you would have to go some

To our maintenance crew a hearty “Thank You”
They are always there when there is a job to do

Riley, John, Brian, Brad and Charley
Our office staff and these men are the best, don't you agree?

MARILYN AND SUE

Early in the morning come rain or come shine
Sue and Marilyn are at the chapel on time
Their attending services are not mandatory
Thats what makes this such a noteworthy story

We wish good health and happiness to Marilyn and Sue. True Aishes Chayil are both of you

"Since joining Beth Hillel I have met many fine, outstanding individuals. I would like to bring your attention to one unusual, unique type of person whom I have learned to love and admire. This poem is dedicated to that person, MIRIAM WOCASEK."

MIRIAM WOCASEK

A true Aishes Chayil is she
She always has a smile and a kiss for me
Miriam Wocasek, Beth Hillel will remember you always
We wish you the best of luck and good health the rest of your days

IRWIN (ISSER) PARKER

In every congregation there is one person who stands out
That is what this poem is all about
A survivor of the Holocaust from where he came
That person is Irwin (Isser) Parker by name

Frail and weakened by what he has gone thru’
Simply because he was born a Jew
He has risen above all the trials and tribulations
To one who deserves our utmost admiration

A pillar in Congregation Bnai Emunah is this man
The Nazis were foiled in their plan
He gives 100% of his efforts in every situation

Isser Parker, we are proud to have you in our congregation

IRV MARGOLIN

It was to the first Chavura meeting that I came
Then I met this gentleman, Irv Margolin, by name
Irv made a statement loud and clear
“I’m not so sure that I belong here”

When it comes to discussing matters affecting Jews
Irv and I are very much in agreement in our views
However, when it comes to politics and we have our say
There is where we have a parting of the way

Irv, I respect and admire your knowledge and your wit
But can’t you ease up on the Democrats just a bit?
With these words this poem I shall end
I am proud to call Irv Margolin my friend

Of course, Grace, Jean and I both love you too

I assume from the above poem that my dad was a Democrat at one time. Thankfully, age has brought wisdom and he changed party affiliation.

A TRIBUTE TO RABBI HAROLD I. STERN

Take my hand, my friend down memory lane

To the year 1975 when to Congregation Bnai Emunah I came
In the Chapel in the morning I took my seat

That was the first time Rabbi Stern did I meet

The services (which he initiated) when all of us would sing
The walls of the Chapel would seem to ring
All of us certainly were so inspired I believe
When at the end of the services we would leave

His sermons to us were always a revelation

We learned so much about our Jewish nation
Because of Rabbi Stern’s interpretation you see
Judaism to us would no longer be a mystery

MY FRIEND AL KATZ

It was June 16th, 1942
That “Aidle” Al Katz came into view
Small of stature, but a giant in every other way
I’ve always paid close attention to what he had to say

A husband “par excellence” is he
Ask Helen, I’m sure she will agree
Three fine children he brought up
And a most unusual dog, he raised from a pup

We met at the induction center on Harrison Street
Ah, civilian life had seemed so sweet
On to Camp Grant on the train we rode
Seated next to this Italian soldier about 20 years o1d

We parted company but for only a while
Traveling over the country many a mile
In Davis-Monthan Field at the orderly room I opened the door
And there was Al Katz washing the floor

We’ve shared many a laugh and a few tears too
When ever we meet we ask each other “What’s new”
I'm proud to call Al Katz my friend
And on this note this poem I shall end

The Tannenbaum and Katz families ended up living close by for years on Chicago's south side. We lived on the 9000 block of East End and the Katz's were on the 8900 block of Ridgeland, one block east of us. I was friendly with the Katz children - Michael, Irene and Elyse and both of our families were active members of Congregation Rodfei Shalom Or Chadash on the 9100 block of Euclid.

This poem was written about two years after the birth of our first daughter Rachel

TO RACHEL

On that special day, August 31st, 1987
A small bundle of joy came from heaven
Rachel, child of love
G-d's beautiful gift from above

What set's this child from the rest apart?
Her special way of giving from the heart
Whether it be a cookie, toy or picture book
She gives it to you gladly, in her face that quizzical look

And when she laughs or smiles at you in her winning way
You know that surely helps to make our day
If the Lord one wish he would grant us to make
The walk to the marriage canopy with Rachel he would allow us to take

And to our favorite couple Chuck and Sue
Our heartfelt thanks to both of you
Because you have shown us that you care
In your joy and happiness you allow us to share

So in 1989 on this Sunday, the 7th of May
Your Grandma Jean and Papa Max have had their say
And to Rachel, Sue and Chuck
All our love and forever the best of luck

Grandma Jean and Papa Max

BECKY

Your smile lights up the Room
When you come in
Everybody knows of the Becky Smile

So keep on smiling
And the whole world
Will smile with you

Papa Max

TO MY SON, CHUCK

It seems like it was just yesterday
That you and I were busy at play
To give you brothers and sisters was our plan
But that decision is made by God, not by man

In the cold of winter I pulled you on your sled
And many were the days I tucked you into bed
The days of practicing baseball at the park
We played and played until late into the dark

Finally in Little League you became a member
And those hits you made, how well I remember
Suddenly you were a Bar Mitzvah boy
To the entire family you brought great joy

Remember the days in the rec room we played pool
And here you are now graduating high school
The night of the prom we will never forget
We were the last to leave, I bet

Then the college days came into view
No longer a child, you were now a man, I knew
And when you became “Doctor T”
I was as proud as any man could be

Dear God, why must time go by so fast
And why can’t the good days forever last
But I guess we must keep moving on, Chuck
All my love, and forever, the best of luck

Dad

Monday, September 5, 2011

The Max Tannenbaum Story