Obituary: The Bubbe

In loving memory of Ruth Tatelman – The Bubbe                                       May 22^nd 1917 – June 4^th 2010

I would like to share with you one of the greatest and most influential people in my life – my Bubbe.  The following is my eulogy I recited at her funeral service on June 6th 2010 and a chronological picture display of her life.  I hope you enjoy the following stories and pictures of my Bubbe as much as I enjoyed the time I spent with her:

Throughout High School, one of the most popular nights for my friends was Friday night.  Not for the typical reasons you would think of for High School students  – well for that too – but also for those Friday nights when Bubbe was visiting from Florida.

My friends, Jews and Gentiles alike, would come to my Mom’s Shabbat Dinner for the pure entertainment value (and good food).

You see, it was a foreign experience for us living here in the Pacific Northwest on Mercer Island.  It was a chance to visit the absurdity the of Costanza’s house or a family from a Woody Allen film for free, and with little effort, transporting ourselves to a different place and generation:  to the East Coast, an exaggerated version of the Jewish neighborhoods of the 1^st and 2^nd generation European Jews.

During dinner, my Dad would invariably say something inappropriate, trying to get a rise out of his mother-in-law, my Bubbe, by joking about her age and the small inheritance he expected.

Bubbe would never back down.

-       First her eye roll.  One of the classic eye rolls of all time.  No one had an eye roll like Bubbe.

-   Then, speaking in her thick Jewish, Boston accent, to the other side of the room, looking away from my father, to no one in particular, she would respond:

• “the neaahhve!!
• or “he’ll leaahhn’!!!” (Of course my Father never learned).

Having heard this my friends would just roll to the ground in laughter.

Bubbe was a beautiful person.  She had a huge heart.  She was always welcoming, but opinionated.  During her visits, Bubbe would always sit there in the kitchen.  She was the first person you would see and hear from as you entered the house.

“HaLo, who’s theaah?”  Bubbe, its me Eric Rozkowski.  “Ooooohhh . . .” And a conversation would be started.

Her opinions were direct and to the point.  A single phrase to drive her argument home.  Like when my Mom started to experiment with her Matzah Ball Soup, adding nontraditional ingredients like sweet potato.  The soup is delicious, but Bubbe never fully bought into it . . . . “Who’s eveah huuhhd of such thing”

She had a point.  She was born during the first World War, lived through the Great Depression and the 2^nd World War, the first commercial radio and TV broadcast, the last Red Sox World Series victory in the 20^th Century – 1918 – and the first in the 21^st Century – 2004.  And she kept current with routine watching of Oprah, QVC, and Larry King.  If Bubbe had never heard of such a thing, it probably had never been talked about.

People loved her for that.  Bubbe’s connection with people could be seen with some of the most fantastically absurd experiences I had with her.  Like when we were in Boston for my younger brother Joel’s graduation from Emerson College, in a city she hadn’t been to for 20 years.  Just walking through the city streets with my 82 yr old Bubbe, all of a sudden she stops to talk to someone.

“Bubbe, what are you doing?  Who is that?”

“Its my friend from kindahgaahten.” So matter of factly.  No big whoop.  Just happened to bump into someone she met 75 yrs ago.

Apparently, it was the norm.  She kept in touch with all the girls from her kindergarten class.  All her contact information was kept in a little beige address book that she bought circa ’82.  She didn’t need an iPhone with 20GB of memory to keep track of people.  Just a pen to update her address book.

Every page was full in her address book, except for those meant for people with names starting with Q and X, because who ever heard of Jew with a name starting with those letters. . . “Thaaaat’s riii-ght!”

Company’s that specialize in background checks wished they had such a resource.

I moved over 15 times, lived in 3 different country’s since I left my parents house in 1992.  Every relocation was met with a cross out and an update.  Written between the old lines and the cross out was my new phone number and address.  It was the advent of whiteout that provided Bubbe with the final technological innovation she needed to keep her address book up-to-date.

Bubbe was always giving to her grandchildren.  Even if she didn’t completely understand it, she was willing to participate.  Like when she allowed us to record her voice for the Internet Radio Company Joel and I started, making her the first Bubbe on the Internet, when she boldly threatened our audience with:

“This is the Bubbe and you aah listening to Woold Wide Broadcasting daahht com  . . . You bettaahh not go anywheaahh!!”

I always tried to explain Bubbe to people who had never met her, but I could never do her justice.  You never quite knew what to expect.

Like one of the first times my girlfriend Shannon met Bubbe.  We visited Bubbe in her room downstairs in my parents home.  Her phone rings, so I offer to answer it, when all of a sudden Bubbe warns:

“If it’s the police, HANG UP!!”

Thank you Bubbe for being such a huge and important person in my life.  You are one of a kind.  You influenced me throughout my life and helped shaped me into the person I am today.  You will truly be missed.  But you will live on within our memories and hearts.

I promise that I will “be caahhful out theaahh” and I’ll “drive saaafe-llly.”

I love you Bubbe.

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