I want to start by thanking everybody for coming today. I'm very touched to see such a large turnout. It is certainly a blessing to live to be 92 years old, but one of the prices one has to pay for living so long is to see so many friends and relatives go before you. That's why Funerals for the very elderly, are often so sparsely attended. That is except for the rich and famous, of course, but that was not the case with my grandfather, who was a very simple man. So I think your attendance today is a wonderful tribute to the special way in which he managed to touch so many people in his unique quite way. And that is why I want to try to understand just what it was about my grandfather that made him so special to so many people.

All of us here today can only remember my grandfather as an older man. Even my mother, who has undoubtedly known him the longest, can only picture him as a father. But in fact my Grandfather was really a baby. He was the youngest of 11 siblings, and to Louie and Minnie and Esther and Max and Fay and Sam and Bessie and Ida and Yetta and Sophie he was always, and always would remain, the baby. That's an image of my grandfather that's difficult for us to picture here today, and yet true, none the less. I cannot even recall ever knowing half of those sisters and brothers of my Grandfather. To me they are just names I've heard, and faces that I have seen frozen in the single image of a photograph that is hanging on my mother's wall.

Also, my Grandfather was a husband. Now it is not a secret, most of you here know that for many years my grandfather took a back seat to my grandmother, Martha. She was a very dynamic woman with a very strong personality, and for most of their married lives together my grandfather was content to let her shine. And because of this, I feel as if I myself did not really get to know my grandfather until he was a very old man. The images that I do have of my Grandfather, as he was in earlier days, are filtered through a handful of special events, which I hope to share with you, and yet I am very much aware of the strangely strong effect that my Grandfather seemed to have on so many people. Therefore I am trying to understand exactly what was the essence of this impact, and where did it came from.

In order to shed some light on this question, I think it is very useful to look at my Grandfather's namesake in the Torah. Irving's Hebrew name was Yitzchak (which is Isaac), and just like the Patriarch Isaac, my Grandfather, too, was named Yitzchak ben Avraham (or Isaac son of Abraham). And just as their names are identical, so too are there tremendous similarities between their personalities. By analyzing and understanding Issac's place and role in the Bible, I feel we can gain a better understanding of my Grandfather's true nature and appreciate what made him such a special person.

Unlike the other two Patriarchs in the Torah (Abraham his father and Jacob his son), Isaac is seen as a rather passive individual. Abraham and Jacob were both dynamic and active doers, extensive travelers meeting heroic challenges. Isaac, on the other hand, doesn't even get a full weekly portion of his own in the Torah. Sandwiched in between the numerous chapters recounting the exploits of his father and his son, we see Isaac as a man who appears to be more acted upon than active. He is a willing participant, when his father nearly sacrifices him to God on an alter. And, unlike Jacob, who labors for fourteen years for the right to marry the woman he loves, Isaac agrees to a marriage which is prearranged by his father. Even his own wife and children manage to deceive him. Son, Jacob, in collaboration with wife, Rebecca, successfully conspire to steal away the birthright from his oldest son, Esau. However, some of the Rabbis comment that Isaac was not really deceived, since he did render the most appropriate blessing to each brother, but that rather than unmasking the deception and embarrassing people, he merely did the right thing quietly and insured the survival of his family. This, again, is so much like my Grandfather, who always acted in such a quiet way, that he did not always get his due credit, and yet he managed to influence people in very strong ways.

There are many aspects of my Grandfather's past that I only know through stories that have been told to me, usually not even by him. That he once owned a Candy Store, until he lost it to hard times, during the Depression. I wish that I had been able to see my Grandfather in this role, for I am sure that it is a role he must have relished and exalted in. My Grandfather enjoyed people so much. The role of shopkeeper must have suited him to a tee. Making people happy is what made him happy, and he had a gift for spreading enjoyment that drew people to him. Even in later years, when he was often sick, but before the illness began to effect his mind, this gift was very apparent. I remember that when I went to visit him in the hospital. The Nurses and Doctors were always so glad to see him, remembering him so well from his last visits. I even remember some hospital workers, ones who had been reassigned to other units since his last hospitalization, who went out of their way to come and visit him when they heard he was back. It seemed uncanny to me, even at the time, but it really was so. Whenever my Grandfather went to the hospital, the word seemed to go out among the staff, that their beloved Mr. Podber was back. And to all of those professional workers, people who spend the whole day treating patient after patient, my Grandfather was accorded the special status of a friend. I know that this is so, because I saw it with my own eyes.

After the Candy Store closed, my Grandfather began driving a truck for a Laundry. He would go to people's homes to pick up bags of their dirty Laundry and at the same time he would return neatly tied bundles of clean clothes. Eventually, he took over this Laundry, and ran it successfully for many years, though he never gave up personally driving his own laundry route. One of the earliest distinct memories I have of my Grandfather, is when I was 7 or 8 years old. I went to work with my Grandfather and accompanied him on his Laundry Route. Even though I was too young to have any idea what a Laundry Route was supposed to be like, none the less I was aware that there was something strange going on about his. At every stop we made, I saw that these were not just customers, but friends. At every house, we were invited to come in, to sit down, to eat or drink something. I was offered cookies and milk, and everyone knew my name. They knew my brother's names, and much, much more about my whole family, things that I could not fathom how strangers could know. But these folks were not strangers. They were my Grandfathers customers, and how my Grandfather conducted his business is indicative of how he lived his life. Everyone with whom he came in contact had to become a friend. This was probably my first glimpse of my Grandfather outside of my family setting, and I was amazed to see how much he shone, and how much he was loved and admired.

Growing up I thought it was very cool having a Laundryman for a Grandfather. It meant that we never washed anything at home. We sent everything out. And once a week my Grandfather would arrive at our house to pick up the Laundry, and I would see him walking up the driveway and up the front stairs, carrying huge bundles of neatly folded clothing on his shoulders, large packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. After 92 years, it is easy to forget what a fine physical specimen my Grandfather was. I'm glad that I have this opportunity now to remember him as he was and to share it with you. Watching the ease with which he carried in those heavy bundles, every week, made him seem like a giant, too me, strong, happy and invincible.

I have another early memory of my Grandfather, in which he similarly surprised me by revealing a prowess which he usually kept hidden. I must have been about 10. My family was spending the day in Bradley Beach, and the house where we were visiting had a pool table. All of the children were playing with it. Suddenly my Grandfather asked if he could take a turn. I remember thinking, "What a waste of time". Nothing could have seemed more incongruous to me than my Grandfather with a pool cue in his hand, but up to the table he stepped, took a few practice stokes into the air, with a grace and familiarity that amazed me. Then he leaned over and took aim and scored 4 bills in succession. With an embarrassed smile on his face he handed the cue back, and said, "You children play. I just wanted to see if I still remembered how." And that was the first and the last time that I ever saw my Grandfather play pool. Nor did I ever come to learn where he learned the skill and why he gave it up.

There are so many things about my grandfather that are similarly shrouded in mystery. He was such a modest man who was content to keep his talents and accomplishments to himself. He was more interested in making life better and more comfortable for his family than in shining on his own. In fact he rarely even talked about himself. Though he was always so interested in what was going on in everyone else's life, it was hard to get my Grandfather to reveal much about himself. He always preferred to talk about you. Maybe that's one of the things that made people love him so much. Whenever he saw someone, he immediately wanted to know what was going on in their lives. He remembered all the details and always asked the right questions when he met you again, to show that he was really interested. How's business? How many customers did you get today? Are your tenants paying their rent on time? How are the children? How are your cats doing? But hardly ever a word about himself.

Still I do know that my Grandfather came to this country when he was just 11 years old, right after the First World War. He left a turbulent Europe, that he didn't want to talk about. Sometimes he would jokingly relay the amusing fact that even though he had lived in four different countries, by the time he was 10 years old, he had, nevertheless, only lived in one village. A succession of invading armies changed his birthplace from Lithuania to Poland, to Germany and to Russia. Of these terrible years, there is really only one story that I ever heard him describe in any detail, a grueling incident that left an indelible mark on my Grandfather. He was a young boy, in cheder (Hebrew School), a new army of conquering soldiers marched into his village. In order to establish their authority, they forced everyone out of the schoolhouse, and lined everyone up, students on one side, teachers and Rabbis on the other. And then, before the innocent young eyes of the students they brutally butchered the elders, and cut their heads off. My Grandfather was never able to rid himself of this image. And even though he almost never spoke about it, it continued to haunt him and to effect him in deep ways. It left him with many fears and insecurities. And it left him with a grudge which he was never able to square with God.

Once he got to this country, my Grandfather's life is truly a part of American Legend. Through so many books and movies we are more than well aware of this familiar story, the large immigrant families coming to these shores with little but their optimism and ingenuity. And that is how it was when Bubbe (Grandpa's mother, Rebecca) came over here with her 11 children to start all over again. You could say that my Grandfather truly lived the American Dream, but he didn't do it for himself. After struggling at first, and living through the hardship of the Depression, he eventually knew success in business, and the joy of family. Through his daughter and three grandchildren, his 2 granddaughters-in-law, his 6 great-grandchildren, and one great-granddaughter-in-law he knew his greatest happiness. His personal needs and pleasures were very simple. Though he had the money to do and buy what he wanted, he never went away on vacations or bought himself expensive clothing or gadgets. For him the American Dream was making sure that everyone in his family had whatever they wanted. I can tell you, for sure, that there will be no surprises in store when my Grandfathers Last Will and Testament is read. This is because he already saw to it that everything was well shared and distributed among his family while he was around to share in the enjoyment. If my brothers and I have been able, to live the American Dream, it is, in large part, because of the love and generosity of my Grandfather, who always made sure that we had whatever we needed. If we have been able to buy houses, and start businesses, and live comfortably, it is in part due to his generosity, because being able to help us was for him his greatest happiness of all.

And now the love and influence of my Grandfather extends to yet another generation, to his great grandchildren. I have a poem here that was written last year by my niece Rachel, who is being Bat Mitzvahed next week, and I'd like to share it with you. Rachel's teacher asked the class to write a poem about an inanimate object. They weren't asked to write about a person. Rachel chose to write about the chair that her Great Grandpa Irving always sat in her Grandma Selma's house. The Poem is called "The Grandpa Chair"