Hesped

June 7, 2021

Our father, Sidney Goschalk – Yeshia Nuchem ben Avraham v’ Etka, was a quiet, intellectual, thoughtful and tolerant man. He was the first of two children born to his parents after they moved from Poland to London before the second world war, to escape the antisemitism there. He was his parents first “English” child despite the fact that his first language was Yiddish.

He left school at 15 to join his two older brothers in their dress making business, but he never stopped learning. He was an avid reader, of mostly non-fiction, and the breadth of his knowledge was hard to believe. He read the Greek philosophers in his 20’s, completed the full daf yomi sequence at least twice, attended Zoom shiurim up to the last week of his life and was current on a wide range of scientific matters. Under different circumstances we are sure he would have been an academic and not a businessman.

He was a true autodidact. He taught himself the skills needed to do all sorts of home projects, he taught himself how to operate a computer at an age when most people struggle to master their television’s remote control. He even taught English as a second language to immigrants after he sold the dress business in his 60s. My wife, Julie, tells the story of how he taught her to use SMS text messaging long before it was commonplace in the United States.

My father took the approach that no job was too hard or too complex that he could not tackle it with the help of a couple of books from the library and the application of his exquisitely clear and logical mind. Growing up, we lived in a house that was painted and decorated by him. We listened to music on the “Hi Fi” system that he constructed from components, housed in a large wooden cabinet that he built. And our house was heated by a central heating system, the radiators, piping, pumps and boiler of which he installed, with the invaluable help of his 10-year-old, eldest son. He was an original do it yourselfer long before there was ever a DIY store. We formed a bond over things mechanical and electrical. I remember fondly his encouraging me to construct a crystal radio receiver with a long wire antenna strung by the bedroom window listening to the faint sounds of pirate radio. For those not of a certain age, you will just need to look this up.

Not only was he practical man but he was a man of culture. A Jewish boy growing up in East London become a fan of classical music, and especially opera. His perfect evening at home would consist of a glass of single malt scotch watching one of the classic operas on the television.

My father sold his dress making business in his early 60s but my mother told him that he would have to find something else to do rather than sit around the house. So, in his usual fashion, with the help of my brother Stephen and of course a few visits to the library, he taught himself bookkeeping and how to use accounting software, and became a bookkeeper, a career he followed for the next 30 years, working at least part-time into his 90s.

Our father was a deeply committed Jew who took the practice of his faith seriously. He prayed daily, he studied, and he thought about his religion. But he was also open minded and tolerant. Religious conviction can result in dogma, my daddy always believed in meeting people where they were. Their way may not have been his way, but he did not judge or condemn. He treated everyone with respect.

Daddy was a glass-half -full kind of person. He observed that people would drop everything to attend a funeral but would often miss out on Simchas. Not him, if he was invited to a joyous event, he would try his darndest to go. Traveling, even late in life, to attend happy occasions. He maintained his elite BA frequent flyer status well into his 80s as a result of making sure he was there to celebrate life.

My father’s relationship to my mother was mutually supportive, deep and enduring. After she passed away, nearly 20 years ago now, he often said that she was on his mind and that he missed her, but this still did not dampen his positive outlook on life. I recall a speech he gave at his 90th birthday party where he said “..is my glass half full or half empty? I have to tell you that it is still half empty. At the times when I am most happy, such as today, I am still aware of the empty space by me. But perhaps contrary to the laws of physics my glass is in fact overflowing. I now have a number of great grandchildren to help fill my cup of pleasure.”

A friend of mine referred to my father, lovingly, as the Energizer Bunny. He just kept going, recovering from a number of illnesses to bounce back each time. This time, however, the batteries did run out. Daddy, you were our role-model, you were our inspiration, you proved to us that despite setbacks and loss you found the good in life, always looking to the next good thing. We will miss you and your absence will be a hole that will be hard to fill. I was incredibly lucky to have had a father for 71 years and for that I feel truly blessed. None of us know what happens after we die, but I like to think that there is a place out there, where my dad now is, with him looking at the next project to make it that much better.