Obituary of Sylvia K. Berman

Sylvia Berman (Knopf) Brighton: On December 7, 2009 at age 94. She is predeceased by her loving husband of 43 years, Herman; sisters, June Lovenheim and Virginia Posner. She is survived by her daughters, Jean Morrison, Carol (Daniel) Fybush; grandchildren, Julie (Christopher) Williams, Scott (Lisa) Fybush; great-grandchildren, Ariel & Eli Fybush; brother-in-law, Andrew Lovenheim; many nieces, nephews and dear friends. Funeral Services will be held on Wednesday, December 9, 2009 at 11:30 AM in the Benjamin Goldstein Chapel at Temple B'rith Kodesh (2131 Elmwood Avenue). (Click Here for Map) Interment, White Haven Memorial Park. Following the funeral a period of mourning will be observed at the Summit of Brighton (2000 Summit Circle Drive) on Wednesday 2-4 & 7-9 PM. (Click Here for Map) Those who wish may make contributions to the American Heart Association 2113 Chili Avenue Rochester, New York 14624 or American Cancer Society 1400 Winton Road North Rochester, New York 14609-5896 in her memory. Rochester Democrat & Chronicle Sunday, January 24, 2010 - Edition A Life Lived Sylvia Berman: She held family, home close to heart Mark Hare • Senior Editor • January 24, 2010 She delighted in life's simple pleasures. Indeed, Sylvia Berman delighted in being delighted. And she enjoyed many things. Time spent with her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren. Her friends, some of them her friends for 80 years. Her piano. A nice swim. Ballroom dancing. Thanksgiving Day mashed potatoes fortified with cream cheese, sour cream and butter. Berman, who died in December just five days shy of her 95th birthday, lived her whole life in Rochester — where her grandfather settled in the 1860s. The family lived on the city's east side, settling eventually on Harvard Street. The oldest of three sisters, Berman graduated from East High School and the Rochester Business Institute. In 1938, she married Herman Berman, a commercial artist, and they had two daughters, Jean and Carol. Sylvia met Herman in a deli on Joseph Avenue where she'd gone with girlfriends to get a corned beef sandwich (they cost a quarter). A few days later, he asked if he could come over to visit her. And that was that. She worked briefly at Neisner's variety store downtown. But at the time, "you weren't allowed to get married," she said in an interview with grandson Scott Fybush last summer, for National Public Radio's Story Corps oral history project. "If you wanted to get married, you had to ask the big boss. I can't imagine that today." Theirs was a "Leave it to Beaver life," says daughter Carol Fybush of Brighton. They always lived within a few blocks of where Sylvia grew up (until the 1950s, when the family moved to Brighton). "There was a little Red & White on the corner," Fybush says, "and everyone watched us. Of course, they were related to us. My mom was still watching me get off the bus when I was in high school." Sylvia Berman built, preserved and thrived on a close family. She kept stacks of small photo albums, filled with snapshots she'd taken to commemorate each year as the girls were growing up. She filled the house with music, playing the piano with a slight honky-tonk beat, says Carol. (Her upright piano, and her books of music, are now with her grandson Scott, his wife, Lisa and their children, Ariel and Eli.) Sylvia and Herman loved ballroom dancing, Carol says, and she played canasta and bridge with women she'd known since their days at School 1. Hers was a world very different from today's, a world where sisters and friends all lived close by over a lifetime. She and Herman did enjoy travel; they visited Spain, Italy, Greece and Turkey. But the east side was home. "We did most things in the neighborhood," she said during the Story Corps interview. Rochester today "is pretty changed," she said. "There's no downtown like it was. They have the malls today. We used to have vegetable wagons that came to the house. The ice man would come, and if you wanted ice, you put a sign in the window saying how many pounds you wanted. There were no expressways or buses. There were streetcars." When Herman died in 1981, Sylvia quickly gave up their home and moved to an apartment; eventually she moved to the Summit at Brighton. She was 66 when he died, and she had a lot of living still to do. She didn't want to spend it caring for a home she didn't need. She continued to travel, visiting Israel and taking frequent charter tours to Toronto and other places. Her focus was always on friends and family, Carol says, but she kept looking forward. "She always found gentleman friends," Carol says. She continued to play cards with her friends. But she didn't let herself get old. "Being alone, she gained a lot of confidence in herself," Carol says. Like many young women of her generation, she had the ability and desire to go to college, but her father thought girls didn't need an education. "I've always regretted not going to college," she said in the Story Corps interview. But she pushed ahead and stayed positive and happy. "I don't think she understood exactly what I do," says Scott, who has worked in television and radio, "but she was always very interested." She was likewise interested in the details of lives of her grandnieces and nephews, Carol says. "She gave them a whole different experience of what it means to be elderly." She kept making her specialties for family gatherings — not only the mashed potatoes, but turkey stuffing, matzo balls and peach pie. And she kept expanding her family in endearing ways. She always referred to Carol's husband, Dan, as her "son," not son-in-law. She called Scott's wife her "granddaughter," and Scott's sister Julie's husband, Chris Williams, her "grandson." She went to all their weddings and danced at each one of them, sometimes kicking up her heels for the "YMCA." "She never became a stereotypical old person," says granddaughter Julie Williams. "And as stupid as it sounds, I guess I did sort of think she would always be there." She went to great-granddaughter Ariel's dance recitals and listened to music on summer nights with Carol's friends on Park Avenue. In 1995, she took an Internet class at the Jewish Community Center and started to use e-mail. She saved hard copies of her first electronic notes, including one she sent to Scott: "I can't believe we are really writing to each other on the computer," she said. She loved to go to lunch with friends and young relatives. She loved to take Ariel Fybush to the La Tea Da Tea Room and Parlour on Alexander Street for her birthday. And she loved to be seen returning from lunch through the lobby at The Summit. "You scored big points for that" with the other residents, Scott says. She never settled into old age. She taught her children and grandchildren to take what each day brings — with a smile. At Sylvia's funeral, Carol's sister Jean Morrison summed up her spirit: "Right up to this week, her December calendar was full." "The most remarkable thing about her life," says Scott, "may be how unremarkable it was." There were no huge tragedies, no debilitating illnesses, no life-altering moments. Just a life lived well and close to home. Home Brighton, New York Birthplace Rochester, New york