Message from Jake Baum

Uncle Sidney Goschalk z”l – a bridge between worlds

My great Uncle Sidney was a constant figure in my life from my first memories as a child – a bridge between my world and that of my mother’s childhood, my grandfather and the entire Goschalk tribe.

We grew up with a Zaida that lived abroad. Israel Meyer (Izzy) Goschalk, my grandfather, z”l was an abstract figure in my childhood world. We saw him infrequently. For virtually all of my memories he lived in Majorca, Spain. He was elderly, at the end very frail, and always somewhat detached from us. We of course heard some stories of our mother’s childhood, Izzy’s business, his life and that of our wider family, but much of it remained mysterious and other-worldly. I knew some of the Goschalk legends, of a great-grandfather porging meat in Golders Green. Of 100 year old great-great-grandmothers that battled the “Evil Eye”. Of flamboyant brothers starting out in business, living an excessive life across Europe. Of successes and failures (though little of what really happened). Of Poland, Europe and the shadows of both the Holocaust and the all-to-early loss of Lilly, my grandmother who died when my mother was only 6 years old. As a child, this meant that the tangible connection to a Goschalk heritage often felt out of reach to me – I knew it was there but couldn’t piece it together. Indeed, it would have been entirely unknown to me were it not for Sidney and Mildred. They were constants in my life, my connection to my past and evolving present.

Sidney and Mildred, more than any relative on my mothers or father side, would visit us where-ever we were. They seemed fearless of travel, of driving long distances, of turning up when there was a birth, a barmitzvah, a burial or (in later years) a scientific lecture. Sidney in particular seemed unfazed by the idea of travelling large distances and simply turning up to be present – no fuss, just to be there and show his support, respect or love. In the absence of a present (and later living) grandfather – this meant more to me that I can put into words. I remember platters of kosher meat delivered to Bristol, schvach on yiddishkite as it was. I remember him dining with us wearing a yamulka in public – showing us a path that I never knew was there. And I will not forget looking to him for comfort as I lost my own father – he was there in Rosh Pina standing by our side.

Most recently, he was there when I gave my inaugural lecture as a Professor. My daughter Ruby was in the audience aged 7. And my great-uncle Sidney was in the audience aged 93. The eldest and youngest present bookending my life – it felt very special. And he wasn’t just there, he was interested – a Talmud hacham, learning daily the daf yomi, but no less interested in the nuances of molecular and cellular biology.

In the years when I went through a process of reconnecting to Judaism, Sidney was there even more so. As I reconnected with my past I began to realise the religious divide that had separated so many in my mother’s family – observant from non-observant, London from diaspora, perhaps dating back to my grandfather’s marriage to Jean. How could it be that I didn’t realise I had so many cousins? I of course musthave known I did, but they honestly didn’t feature in my consciousness until I started to cross the divide myself. Kornbluths. Pruwers. Kirsches. Dombrowskys. Sonabends. Sidney was my bridge to these worlds. My first shabbat dinners around the Kornbluth table, Sidney shared them with me. Davening at the JLE with the Kirsch tribe, in his presence. Pouring over photo albums, linking myself with the amazing family tree of Etka Dombrowsky and her siblings. Sharing tears as we watched the hesbed over Charles. Many of these families or stories would have felt like strangers, residents of distant places and times were it not for Sidney’s presence. He held the worlds , my worlds, together – across family, across religious-secular and across time, linking me to the greater Goschalk story (a real and present story) that I never really knew was there. I cried when I first prayed in Goschalk’s shtibl – tears of joy in many ways at connecting with something profound that until then I had taken for granted. This was a real place – my great-grandfathers house – a part of me. I was just as much Goschalk as I was Baum.

My last conversation with Sidney, a week before he left this world, were about tephilin. In search of some for my son I wanted to ask his advice about Goschalk family tradition – which script, which bind. He told me that he still used the pair of tephilin left to him by his father, Abraham, my great-grandfather. My knowledge of Abraham’s journey to the UK, the story of his family and ancestry back in Poland is unknown to me – it may not be known at all. But the thought that this 100-year-old set of tephilin was still in use today felt symbolic of being a Jew – of connecting back through the ages right back to Sinai. Families consolidate these links, relatives, ancestry, they all help us join up with a family past that links us up as a Jewish people. When there are no links we fall as fruit from a tree – unconnected as if we might perish. Sidney was my connection to this huge tree, this past, a family stretching back in time. I miss him deeply. But I am also so grateful to him for his kindness, his presence, his humility and the absence of judgement that he brought into every encounter. He opened his heart to all of my family, my brothers and I, my wife Andrea and my two children, Ruby and Gilly. That they know his name, his smile, his laugh (his love of chocolate Florentines) and the twinkle in his eye is a huge blessing – the bridge he provided has connected not just my generation but my children’s too.

When the world feels like a very narrow bridge each day – today more than ever - sometimes it’s worth looking out and seeing who the key bridges in our lives have been – the ones that really support us. For me, there was no greater connecter of worlds, no stronger bridge across time and space for me than my dear Uncle Sidney. May his name only be for a blessing.

Jake Baum, Sydney, Australia

Jake.baum@me.com 23/01/2022