Grandpa

My Grandpa is a special man. 

 His face is a mix of old school smooth-talker (like Mad Men) and Peter Pan. Though there are signs of age and wise-ness in his demeanor, the mischief behind his countenance never seems to grow old. His voice is like your favorite vinyl playing over the speakers- soothing and familiar with some “rough edges” in the distinctively European accent you hear when he says certain words. His eyes are pale green yet warm- each blink is deep and full of wonder even till this day at 87 years old. His smile is like when sunshine peaks through the clouds: the corners of his mouth curb up as he lets out a silly laugh. He cracks a joke that makes you chuckle even though you have heard it many times before. You can’t help but smile looking at his sweet face-then he looks at you, into your eyes, like you’re sharing a secret with him. Your heart just MELTS.
 

I love everything about him. The way he reaches for my hand every time he talks to me; the way he says, “Give me a scratch” (aka. scratch the “wings” on his upper back), his laugh, his corny jokes, the way he quotes Seinfield, his playfulness, his never ending wit. Many people have been touched by his magic. He simply has a knack for instantly being everyone’s friend: genuine and unpretentious- he just knows how to talk to people. So many people tell me countless times: “you’re grandpa should write a book, you know that?” I always tell them the same answer: “My Grandpa doesn’t need to write a book because he’s in everyone else’s stories.”

He has an amazing and lighthearted way of looking at life. To say he had a “tough upbringing” is an understatement- he’s a Jewish Holocaust survivor who lost everything and everyone, and then came to the States only to start over at square one. He was 23 and didn’t speak a word of English. Needless to say it was rough. But he was smart and quickly learned how to play the cards he was dealt. Nothing came easy, but he never gave up. After bouncing around, and doing everything from joining the army, to doing all sorts of odd jobs, he answered his calling in life: he got hired by Pan Am.
Grandpa was a purser for Pan American Airlines or “Pan Am” (like the upcoming TV show) from ‘51-’89, where he entertained and charmed crew and passengers alike, for 38 awesome years. Among his Pan Am people, he was simply known as “The Professor.”

Then there were the entertainers. Humor was the name of the game. Wonderful to work with. Flying was a job to make fun of, and to have fun with. They (my Grandpa and a few other pursers) were for the most part good in the cabin and swept us all along with their spirits. Some of the older male pursers were like that. There was the “Professor,” who spoke Russian and Polish and other languages, and also delivered nonstop jokes. In his briefings when he would outline the service flow of the meal carts, it went something like this: “We start at the toilets and end up at the Kitchen…,” gesticulating with his hands. He may have been the one who started the joke about the reply to the passenger who asked him, because he was scratching himself a little, “Pardon me, but do you have hemorrhoids?” Which was “If it’s not on the menu, we don’t have them!” “Sempre Duro” was his trademark idiom, which meant he was always turned on by whatever or whomever, loving life.” (Excerpt from Glamour and Turbulence by Aimee Bratt)

Decades have passed since the Golden Age of flying, and the legend of Pan Am- but one thing remains the same. No matter what- everyone looks at my Grandpa in the same light. 

A comedian, a charmer, a romantic- my Grandpa has the formula to make you smile from your heart. He is iconic and charismatic in his own way- he is a true original. All my memories play out like a story: I can remember him making me laugh with his dinosaur impression when I was four. Other scenes that plays in my head like it was yesterday are the ones when  he first blew me away with his “finger-removing trick”; his Carvel story; the way he picks up a tune and swings his finger like he’s a conductor; and many more- each memory accompanied by that laugh that I love so much. 

“My favorite baby picture: grandpa holding me tight and laughing with me.”

Grandpa has that “it”- you can’t put your finger on it, but it captivates you, he captivates you. My great grandma always told my family: “just like every pot finds its cover, you will find a match.” I can only hope that if I’m meant to be with someone in this life, I will find that cosmic connection, the pot to my cover, in someone as extraordinary as my Grandpa. (There- I said it, the expectations are WAY high:)