52 Ancestors: At Worship

I don't know too much about how my ancestors worshiped - Dad's family was Jewish, Mom's was Christian - and I don't think any of them were terribly religious.  Because of the mixed faith of our parents, we weren't really raised in a religious fashion, either.  Although Mom 'converted' to Judaism when they married, I know that some of the Christian traditions were still buried deep inside her.  But it was important to Dad that we practice some religion so we were raised as much as possible in the Jewish faith.

So while I don't know much about my ancestors, I do have very vivid memories of our time at Temple Emanu-El in San Jose.

Temple Emanu-El, San Jose, California
google.maps.com

Just a few of my memories:

When my brother was Bar Mitzvahed, I remember quite a discussion about which Jewish male family members would stand up to recite prayers.  Of course, coming from a very small family, that was a difficult task and at some point, my sister and I were called in to action.  Thank goodness that we were able to recite the prayers in English!

One year (7th grade, maybe?) my dad was late signing us up for Religious School so we had to go on Saturday instead of Sunday.  Not many of my friends went to church or Religious School on Saturdays.  Lesson learned, Dad.

I loved the holiday celebrations, especially the Purim carnival.

There were some sad times, too.  After my uncle's death in Atlanta in 2004, my dad just couldn't face not having a memorial for his only sibling.  So as only my dad could do, he made it happen and we had a small memorial at the Temple attended by a few family members and friends.

I wonder if Dad ever thought about the fact that the next time we would all join together at the Temple would be just 15 months later when we came together to say goodbye to Dad.  Not only was it goodbye to him, but it was also September 11 so a difficult day all around.  But we all met in the Temple House after the service and as his only great grandchild would proclaim, "then we had a party".

But the greatest, most meaningful, memory I have of the Temple was our long time Rabbi, Joseph Gitin.  Rabbi Gitin, and his wife, Rosalie, was there for us at almost every important religious event as we were growing up.

My brother's (and ultimately my father's) baby naming event.  I think one was named Herman, one was named Isaac but I can't be sure.  Wonder why little brother didn't make it into the photo?

Back row:  Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy, Dad, Sig Levy, Rabbi Gitin
Front:  Gerry (Martin) Levy, Me, Sister

In 1974, Rabbi Gitin was there.  I remember Dad saying he didn't care who married us but he felt like it should be someone who knew us and was meaningful in our lives.  Of course we asked Rabbi Gitin!  And he was kind enough to not just say the prayers in Hebrew, but also in English.

We were so young!

And then eight months later came Bar Mitzvah day.  Although my memory is completely shot of most things, I can remember that day vividly.  I was a few months pregnant with my first child so finding something to wear was a difficult task.  But I can visualize that dress all these years later - just wish I had a photo to share.

The following year Mom and Dad renewed their vows for their 25th anniversary.  I don't remember the story exactly but I know that when Mom and Dad were married in 1950, for some reason at the last minute the Rabbi could not be there so they had to scramble to find a fill-in officiant.  Which explains why Dad wanted us to be married by someone who was important to us.  And when it came time to renew their vows, who else should be there but Rabbi Gitin?

I'm not sure who had the biggest smile that day

In 1982, Dad was the recipient of The Legacy Medal, awarded each year by the San Jose Hospital Foundation to a member of the community for years of professional and public service to the citizens of Santa Clara Valley.  It seemed fitting since Dad had recovered from a heart attack at San Jose Hospital in 1978, and then from a 5 way bypass in 1979.  Of course, Rabbi Gitin was there, along with Rosalie, seated at the head table with us.

Mom, what was so funny?

Five years later, another wedding in the family as my sister was married.  Of course you know who officiated - yep, Rabbi Gitin.  I think one of my very favorite Rabbi stories was the night of the rehearsal dinner.  Mom was so excited to organize the venue for the dinner and since we all loved Chinese food, she made arrangements for the wedding party and family to join together at Fung Lum, a 'famous' restaurant in San Jose.  She always did the ordering when we had Chinese food and this night was no exception.  And remember, Mom was not raised Jewish and none of us were really strict with our dietary restrictions so I'm sure she didn't pay too much attention to any of that.  But when the waiter showed up at our table (of course I was at the same table as Rabbi and Rosalie) and set down Moo Shoo Pork in front of the Rabbi and his wife, there was not only a gasp from the table, but you could just see the color draining from Rosalie's face.  PORK?  She looked in astonishment at the Rabbi as he quietly said "Rosalie, just shut up and eat it".

Rosalie, shut up and eat it!

Dad and Rabbi shared their lives together - not just religiously but also as lifetime Rotarians and friends.  And it was apparent as they shared a special moment together after the bride and groom were named Mr. and Mrs.

And then the unthinkable happened and Dad was gone.  All of us kids had moved away from home but we gathered to plan a service for Dad.  I remember thinking that Rabbi Gitin MUST be there.  But, sadly, at the age of 99 and having just lost Rosalie a few months prior, Rabbi Gitin was unable to attend the memorial.  He sent a nice message via the current Rabbi, Dana Magat, so we felt like he was with us that day.  I know he would have moved mountains to get there if he could - the friendship the two shared was very special.

Dad's final resting place
Rabbi Magat on the right

Just five years later and at the age of 104, Rabbi Gitin was at peace.  And he is now at rest with his beloved Rosalie at Home of Peace Cemetery, the Jewish portion of Oak Hill Memorial Park where Mom & Dad rest.  Dad always said he didn't want to be in the Jewish section but rather up on the hill overlooking the valley (the picture above is from his final resting place) but maybe if he'd thought about Rabbi Gitin being buried there one day, he might have felt differently.  I'm glad to know, though, that they aren't that far apart and when I visit Mom & Dad, I can also visit Rabbi and Rosalie.

Apparently Rosalie didn't want people to know how old she was

Thank you for the memories, Rabbi Gitin.  Know that you were a very, very special member of our family.

52 Ancestors: Cemetery

While I haven’t spent a lot of time in cemeteries, I do love visiting and find it to be such a quiet and reflective place.  Each grave stone tells a story and I like to think about the circumstances that brought each person there.  Was there a lengthy illness?  Were they involved in an accident?  What loved ones did they leave behind?

Of course one very special cemetery is Oak Hill Memorial Park in San Jose, the cemetery my parents are interred in.  I have so many memories as a child/young adult driving by this beautiful place and listening to my dad exclaim “people are just dying to get in there” or “they tell me business is really dead in there”.  Of course he’d laugh and no one in the car would even begin to think that someday the joke wouldn’t be at all funny as we made arrangements to lay him to rest, to be joined 8 years later by Mom.  I also wrote a bit about finding my 3x great grandfather in the same cemetery HERE. 

This post wouldn’t be complete without memorializing Mom & Dad one more time – of course it wouldn’t have been complete without Dad having his favorite Stanford hat with him!





One of my most treasured visits to a cemetery was in 2012 when I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to wander through Hills of Eternity Memorial Park in Colma, California.  Colma has quite an interesting history which you can read about HERE.  In a nutshell, San Francisco cemeteries were “evicted” in 1912 and the little town of Colma became the City of the Silent when the living became drastically outnumbered by the dead.  In fact, in 2006 there were 1.5 million souls interred within the area and the 2010 census found only 1792 living residents.  Thus was born the slogan “It’s Great to be Alive in Colma”.

There are 16 cemeteries in Colma, including a pet cemetery.  And while I’ve only scratched the surface, since my husband and I both have strong ties to the area, between us we have many, many ancestors within this small town.

I remember driving up to Hills of Eternity with great anticipation of what I’d find.  Since I haven’t spent a lot of time searching in cemeteries, I wasn’t really sure where to even start.





We decided to start at the office.  Seems obvious now but it actually took me a minute to figure that out.  The woman was only too happy to help and was I ever surprised when she pulled this out from behind the desk.



Of course my memory is fading now (darn this getting old sucks) but I remember the thrill of seeing the beautifully written entries (why didn’t I take a picture of that?) and as I scanned, seeing many of my “peeps”.  At one point the woman walked away for a minute to look for something and I remember thinking how easy it would have been to grab the books and run!

The most important visit of the day (and one in which I can remember almost every detail) was coming upon this.



There were my peeps! 



In the front on the left is Ferdinand Gunzendorfer, my 2x great grandfather.  And next to him is Fannie Goldstein Gunzendorfer, my 2x great grandmother.

And the small stone to the right of the large Gunzendorfer stone is my grandmother’s brother, Wilton Louis Gunzendorfer.





After wandering around to see many other ancestors, we stopped at the grave of one of the famous residents, Wyatt Earp.  It’s strange to think that my ancestors are sharing a final resting place with a famous person.



And finally we moved on to Portals of Eternity Mausoleum on the grounds of Hills of Eternity where my great grandparents, Abraham and Bertha (Schwartz) Gunzendorfer, are interred.  It fascinates me as to why so many of my Jewish ancestors were cremated and I was especially disappointed to find that Birdie and Abe were interred so high that it was almost difficult to see their final resting place.  I wish I knew the story behind the scratch – it’s not like someone could have vandalized it.






I’ve been fortunate that when I visit a cemetery, there are typically more than one family member interred there.  And several times I’ve unexpectedly found a surprise ancestor or two.  It sure does pay to look around to see who else you can find.

I’m looking forward to many more cemetery visits in the future but the one that I am most anxious to see is McPherson Cemetery in Kansas, the final resting place of my elusive 3x great grandfather, Emery Waller.  I won’t repeat the story of finding Emery in an unmarked grave and then the honor of having his grave marked but you can read about it HERE.  And just because I love seeing the photo, here it is again.



For all those ancestors I haven’t located yet, I’ll be looking for you!