Obituary of Beatrice Schuster Goldberg Saphra

Beatrice Schuster Goldberg Saphra Born January 7, 1924 in Rochester, New York, passed away in West Hills, California on September 21, 2012 at age 88. Beloved daughter of Joseph Martin Schuster who was born in Bazaliya, Ukraine and Rebecca Gordon Schuster born in Smargon, Poland/Lithuania, both of blessed memory. Beloved sister of Burton Gordon Schuster, of blessed memory and Alan Herbert Schuster, of blessed memory. Beloved wife of Herman Dorsam Goldberg of blessed memory and Frederick Saphra, of blessed memory. Beloved and cherished mother of Donna Elizabeth Goldberg, a psychotherapist, and director/actress Zane Buzby, and sons-in-law Mark Albert and Conan Berkeley. Beloved great aunt, aunt, cousin and friend. Beatrice attended Benjamin Franklin High School and married her high school sweetheart, Dr. Herman D. Goldberg. Widowed in her 40s, she pursued higher education, receiving her BA and Masters degrees in Speech Pathology from Hofstra University in New York at the height of the turbulent ‘60s. She was an independent thinker, a proponent of the woman’s movement, and an advocate for ending the war in Vietnam. An avid reader and theatergoer, she passed down her love of books, music and theatre to her children. She was a long time resident of East Meadow, New York and then Mission Viejo, California. Beatrice was an inspirational woman, and proud of her Jewish heritage. Through the generations, she passed down the values and beautiful traditions of her ancestors to her family. May these values and traditions continue to inform and illuminate the lives of all who knew her. May she always be loved, honored and remembered. Funeral Services will be held Tuesday September 25th at 10AM at Brighton Memorial Chapel, Inc., 3325 Winton Road South (Click for a Map). Interment Britton Road Cemetery. Following the burial until 4:30 PM, the family will be receiving guests at the home of her niece and nephew, Florence and Philip Goldberg at, 1985 Elmwood Ave., Rochester, NY 14620-3347 (Click for a Map). Beatrice S. Saphra EULOGY for our Beloved Mother – BY ZANE BUZBY Our mother was a woman of valor. She was one of the smartest people we have ever known. Long before the Internet you could just call her to find out the root of a verb or the source of a quotation or almost anything on a variety of topics, from show business to politics, Israel to family history. Although she didn't go to college until she was in her 40s, she was steeped in knowledge her whole life. She was an avid reader and from an early age read novels, poetry, plays, and essays. She loved to be stirred by great writing and inspired by noble thoughts and meaningful words. She gave us a love of books, music, theatre and especially movies. If it weren’t for her we wouldn't have seen Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dance, or Mickey & Judy sing, or Shirley Temple do both. Throughout our childhood, over and over, she made sure we read the best books (she was a librarian when we were young and brought home stacks of books each week which she would pile on our nightstands) and knew the best authors to inspire us to read more. Both of our parents loved movies and theatre and made sure we saw the greatest movies ever made - all watched in black and white on a 9" console TV. Our house was filled with Playbills from all the plays they went to throughout the years. Our parents were high-school sweethearts and read each other poetry, Walt Whitman was a favorite, and gave us a great love of great writers --- for this we are forever grateful. They took us to our first Broadway show when we were only 5 and 6 years old, infusing us with the magic that comes only from great artists. A magic that, thankfully, has never left us. Our mother wanted us to be smart and informed and after we left home, every few days, she sent us letters filled with clippings of every interesting article she’d read that day – we still have boxes of things still unread - it would take another lifetime to read them all. But she wanted to share everything she experienced with us. She wanted to read or see something and then discuss it. Movies and novels were not just for enjoyment, discussion sparked ideas and feelings and made the experience richer. She would call at any hour and say, “turn on TV, there’s an amazing documentary” about Albert Einstein, or Golda Meier, or Cary Grant, or a comedy routine with Sid Caesar or Mel Brooks that just couldn’t be missed. She wanted us to be perfect in every way and taught us how to make hospital corners on our beds from early childhood, clean our rooms, and help with the chores. She had a certain way of ironing a shirt perfectly and she made us practice till we mastered the technique. First the underside of the collar, then the cuffs, then the yoke.... so that you wouldn’t crease the part you already worked on while ironing the rest. She got a kick out of the fact that when we were theatre apprentices one summer other kids actually paid us to iron their stuff. She was strict but in a good way because she prepared us well for life. We will always think of her smiling, beaming really, those great cheekbones and smooth skin, that beautiful, youthful appearance. Our father called her either “Boss” or “P.F” for Pretty Face, and those names certainly fit her. She was incredibly strong willed and astoundingly beautiful even at age 88. Our parents were members of the Greatest Generation and those values and that time period, that spirit, those movies, Glenn Miller’s music, that American Dream, were all a very important and indelible part of our growing up. A young widow after our father passed away, she went to college during the height of the turbulent 60s and was on campus through the birth of the woman’s movement, civil rights and the protests against the war in Vietnam. She was an advocate for all of this. She took it all in and participated in it, encouraging all of us to speak out, immensely proud that our generation had the nerve to question authority, while hers “did what they were told.” Our mother was practical and our father always said we “had a right to paint our dreams”. When we left home to follow those dreams she never stood in our way – she was a worrier, on a professional level, but actually was thrilled to live vicariously through our adventures in Europe, in New York City, and in show business. She loved to hear about our lives as she went about making a new life for herself. She became a teacher, a speech pathologist, and went on to get her Masters degree. The same year our father died, in 1968, her father died, and she brought her mother and invalid brother to New York to live with her. Eventually she remarried. Joining our family were the Saphras, Fred and his children David (and Phyliss), Marianne and Irene. Our mother loved good food and was a great cook. If you wanted to make her really happy – take her to a great restaurant for an exotic meal. But she also needed an occasional fix of ice cream and halavah. She had a huge file of recipes but the best things she made she improvised. She just had a talent for it. She was also a good doctor, having gone to nursing school for a while after high school. She took great care of us and was always the one to call if someone was sick and you needed to know what to do to make them better. We knew she loved us, her children, she told us every day. She wanted to make sure we knew how she felt. Again and again she told us the story of Donna’s birth – how she was presented with this beautiful, perfect, smiling baby with large violet eyes, just like Elizabeth Taylor. She thought I was cute too, even though I thought I looked a bit like Ernest Borgnine in my cradle. But she called me her “apricot colored kid” with her Daddy’s little ears. Our mother overcame many obstacles. In 1980 she lost her mother, both of her brothers and her husband Fred in just a few months. It was devastating. Still, she carried on, with more strength than she knew she possessed. She was always a loner, independent. She didn’t join clubs or groups. She made it through in her own way, surrounded by a group of good friends for support and because of the love of the rest of the family. Because above all our mother loved her family: her nieces Arleen, who was the first, the bezelk as Poppy called her, and her Laya - it was as if you were both also her daughters, she loved you so much and always talked about what beautiful families and values you had. And nephews Philip and Kenneth, and Michael of blessed memory, and her brother’s children Wendy of blessed memory and Jeff – there aren’t enough words to describe her love for you. All of you probably received a birthday card from her all your lives. She never forgot a birthday. And cousins June of blessed memory and Leny and children Donald and godson Phil - who can forget how hard she laughed when Aunt Bessie told us the story of Leny’s birth or when June told us the story of Donne’s birth. I can still see my mother barely able to breathe from laughter. We laughed about that for years and years. And Cindeleh, Dennis, Marty, and Irwin and Eddie and your families – she loved all of you with all her heart and kept up to date on all of your accomplishments and family news. Barbara she always talked about how touched she was that when you had Yardaena you called her from the hospital bed. That made her so happy, that you thought of her so soon to share your joy. Janice, Nate and children, she thought of all of you as her own and shared so much with you. Florence and Lillian she loved from the day you came into the family, and Florence and Janice, Arleen and Laya, she so enjoyed the long, long talks you had over the phone. She would call us afterwards with all the details, each bit of news. And the next generations, all of her nieces, nephews and cousins’ children – she was interested in each and every one of you and loved you and rejoiced with each accomplishment and each new baby. When Michael passed away there was a hole in her heart, as they had a very special connection. Michael was a lot like our father, and when he passed away it was a double loss. But then Noam walked into our lives, just called up one day, and filled that hole, being a lot like our father and like Michael, and just hearing his voice or seeing his familiar smile, that unique stance, that gleam in his eyes made it all okay. And when Yardaena started calling her on holidays she was so happy. She loved her Aunts & Uncles, Belle and Jack, Izzy & Libby, Ancy and George, Fanny and Vicktor, Max & Ethel, Philip & Katie, Abe, her first cousins Sollie & Sarah, Jerry & Marian, Jerry & Florence, the 3 Basha’s: Bessie, Bede Cherry, Bede Kelner, Irene, Lilly & Don, Sylvia, Milton & Thelma, Frieda, Charles and the rest of the gang and their children, more than words can say. And because of a wonderful curiosity and thirst for knowledge, she knew more than anyone the details of family history. She often told us stories from her childhood about family members perhaps sparking our interest in our genealogy. She cherished her parents, Joseph and Rebecca, and appreciated all they sacrificed to make a better life for her in the New World. She loved her in-laws Sam & Doris as her own parents, Mack & Mimi and Helen and Les as her own brothers and sisters, with all the love in her heart. We never made our mother a grandmother, something she always wanted to be, so recently she decided to become the honorary grandmother of Jeff Schuster’s 3 children, Laurel, Toby and Karl, whose pictures were everywhere in her apartment. Jeffie, she will always be your Aunt Eagle. She was over the moon that Donna and Mark found each other and so happy to watch Conan and I work together as a team and play together as well. She thought of Mark and Conan as sons and always passed along her love to them. She always made our friends her friends and was a second mother to many of them. The child of immigrants, our mother grew up very poor during the depression and often told us that they lived on the rotten leftover vegetables her father sold from his truck. She passed down to us important values about being frugal, working hard and saving money. During the War she worked at Eastman Kodak and used to mend her one pair of silk stockings with a special tool that caught a run, so she could re-weave it and re-weave it. And she kept all of her possessions immaculately. Nothing our mother ever owned got worn out. It was all too precious, every possession too hard to come by, even the smallest things too valuable not to care for. And so we have the coin purse her mother came to America with, stuffed with a few kopeks, in perfect condition. Shoes and suits she wore in the ‘40s that look like they just came out of the box. She even ironed our baby clothes, something Aunt Helen laughed about when she told the story about how Donna was sent to stay with her when I was born. A big box arrived, with each little dress perfectly ironed and starched and pressed in a layer of tissue paper. She taught us to take care of things and preserve them for future generations. And when Arleen and Laya outgrew the clothes they wore, Donna and I got them next, and then Mom sent them off to Wendy in New Mexico and our relatives in Israel, for the two little girls, Yohevet and Tamar who she loved. Nothing went to waste. Our mother was a great friend – she had great empathy for people and their problems and always took other people's misfortunes to her heart. In my days in show business I couldn’t tell her about all the turn-downs and rejections along the way – I could take it, but she couldn’t. She always helped people when she could or was there to hear their troubles as only a true friend can. Up to the present she was still close friends with people she knew from childhood or the War years, like Ellen and Hymie Golblatt who she spoke to every week. They met during the War in Big Spring Texas when our father was stationed there. She got a small apartment with Ellen’s parents one of the only Jewish families in town. Hymie was fighting overseas and our dad, a pilot was on a round Robin flight training plan and was away flying at night a lot. On lonely, anxious nights Mom and Ellen would sleep together and calm each other down. The confided in each other and held each other’s hand. They were closer than sisters. They shared everything, always. She had many other cherished friends throughout the years who meant the world to her, who she loved like family. She was so proud of being Jewish and the accomplishments of our people through the generations - in the arts, sciences and our gifts to the world in the form of ethics and social justice, of doing the right thing. She mentioned this only last week, with great enthusiasm. She was so proud of the values of our traditions and of being a part of something so ancient, so important, so profound. She liked to spark in people what she called a pintele Yid – igniting their burning desire to know more about their heritage. And she was incredibly proud of Israeli and made many trips there to visit Arleen and the Rolnik cousins: Chaim & Emmy, Meir & Fira, Shlomo & Yonina, Zev of blessed Memory and Esther, and Reuven & Michailia, who she loved so much and remained so close to after their first meeting in 1959. That branch of the family, our Israeli cousins, starting with just a handful of survivors after the War is well over 100 people now and she was so thrilled to know them and visit them there and be host to them here. I am so glad I convinced her to go with me during my first visit in 2005. We spent time with all the Rolniks, and with Arleen’s family, Yehuda, Hillel and Sholom and Devora, and Yigal and even got to know David and Micky Osband. What a wonderful memory I have of that trip. And how much she always loved connecting Stuart, Howard, Jeffrey, and hearing news of Bracha, Dovid Haim and Effie, Rachel and Aaron. It made her so happy. Our mother was sometimes a serious person but she could be very funny and was a great, great laugher. World class. She married into a family of very funny people so that worked out perfectly. She could laugh till she cried. And because she had a great many hardships in her life it was a great joy to make my mother laugh. Our memories are full of dinners that were accompanied by breathless laughter...the good kind, when you literally double over. Above all, our mother was a great mother, wife and friend. She loved us all fiercely, that’s really the only word to describe it. I guess what we’ll miss most is the way she looked at us, her children, Donna and me. It was a certain look, with a deep gaze and a glint in her eye, her head cocked to the side, very happy, very pleased and contented with her productions. We would always say, “I love you.” And she would answer with, “I love you more. Always.” Her house was filled with pictures covering all of the walls, pictures of all of you, all of us, the earlier generations, her parents and grandparents, and each new addition to the family. Because more than anything, she was happiest surrounded by her family. She lived in many different places in her life but never felt at home unless her pictures were up on the walls and she could be with all of us. She wished us all the best in life. “So in the time of your life, live—so that in that good time there shall be no ugliness or death for yourself or for any life your life touches. Seek goodness everywhere.” Beatrice, known as Basha-Ita, or P.F. (Pretty Face), our mother, was a true woman of valor. She loved you all and will always be a great part of our lives. She wanted us all to remember: “In the time of your life, live—so that in that wondrous time you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite delight and mystery of it.” Home West Hills, California Birthplace Rochester, New York Donations Donations may be made to: