Alan Goschalk's Talk at the Stone Setting

A few years ago, Dad was invited with us to family in Jerusalem. It was a typical Israeli evening, with lots of food, some drinks and everyone talking loudly, all at the same time. In his inimitable style, Dad was the perfect guest; polite, appreciative and friendly, quietly joining in with some opinions, stories and gentle humour.

‘Your father is quite a guy!’ was the first thing my host said after we had dropped Dad back at his hotel. Its not I think how he would have described himself, but Dad was someone special.

At home as a young child, he was Shia Nochum. Then at school and thereafter, Sidney.

The only person I ever heard use his Yiddish name was Mum, blessed be her memory. And when I think back it was at times of special endearment and love.

In the family fashion business he was, Mr. Sidney, which I found odd. Uncle Izzy, being his older brother and senior partner was Mr. Goschalk. I even remember an old friend coming round and calling him, Sid; which seemed even odder.

As a family man, to us, he was Dad or Daddy.

Then Grandpa, to his adoring grandchildren and great grandchildren.

In the digital age, on skype, email and WhatsApp, he became Gpa!

Dad was amazing at adapting and keeping up with the times. He was open to change and curious to learn. Dad was a moderate, tolerant person. He often said to me, ‘I don’t mind what other people do, as long as they don’t interfere with me’.

I think this approach to life reflected his experience of the world, his respect for others and his deeply held religious conviction. Of course, he didn’t always agree with the life styles and attitudes he sometimes encountered but he would always accept and respect those differences.

Dad learnt about the world and how to do things through books. He once told me a story that when he as twelve he was asked to give a presentation in school on a chosen subject. When he told the teacher he didn’t have anything to talk about, fishing was suggested. Of course, he hadn’t done much fishing in Hackney. But after reading a few library books, he went on to get top marks and became an expert on fishing!

His passion for knowledge and breadth of reading never diminished. We had a running joke. I would ask Dad how many books he was reading and he would modestly say three or four, and then with a wry grin, explain – ‘not at the same time, of course’ – which would never fail to make me smile.

The only regret I ever heard Dad express was leaving school at fourteen and missing the opportunity to pursue further education. But of course, he more than made up for that by reading prodigiously for the next eighty-three years!

When Mya graduated from Cambridge, Dad joined us. It was wonderful to see him at the tea party afterwards in conversation with the head of one of the world’s top colleges. He seemed really quite at home.

As we sat and chatted every weekend over a pre-dinner drink, I grew to appreciate and admire Dad’s approach to life. In particular the balance and moderation in whatever he did.

The practical and the intellectual. Not so long ago, Dad explained to me exactly what a solenoid was; who knew! A few more years ago, we rewired the loft lights together with him holding live wires while I looked on nervously.

Learning; secular and Kodesh. Bookmarks in history, science or philosophy and always a Gemorrah. The arts and sciences. Dad was passionate about Beethoven, Shakespeare and anything to do with physics!

Work and travel. An incredible work ethic and constant globetrotting, with family, and to family. In his eighties back from a wedding in Israel to fly the following day to Washington for Mia’s graduation. He often said jet lag didn’t bother him. But that was still amazing!

Dad didn’t talk much about himself or feelings, when he grew up that wasn’t the way. He wasn’t loud or demonstrative. He was a thoughtful, considerate and kind person who showed how he felt in his own way, at the right time.

Epitomising this balance, on his 90th birthday, Dad spoke about his glass being both half empty and half full. It wasn’t a contradiction. He felt the emptiness of those he had lost and deeply missed Mum. On the other hand, he greatly valued what he had and cherished the people around him, family and life.

Dad was sometimes asked to speak at family occasions. He would always start by thanking Hashem for giving him the years to be there and the opportunity to celebrate. And I am thankful for a father who made us proud and was so highly regarded, loved and liked by so many.

Thanks, Dad, for showing us the things that are important in life.

Shai Nochum was someone very special, who will always be fondly thought of and, deeply missed. As Yossi said, he was ‘quite a guy’.