Category: photography

Wolfgang Suschitzky, Dead at 104

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How prophetic of Wolfie! Great eye and great mind. Named his brand of photography “documentary.” Now it’s in the common lexicon.

I look at his work and say we have the same Jewish photographer gene. I share it with him, Arbus, Bernstein, Myerwitz, Model, Annie, Wegee, and all the great ones. All these photographers were witnesses and there cameras documented what they saw to enable them later on to see it.

As voyeurs interested in the human race, they saw the ordinary and the unusual. Sometimes to mock. Sometimes to inform. But mostly to do social good, introducing us to those whom we might not know and whom we might not hold in as high respect as they are worth. Their images made the subjects part of our family, maybe not close enough to invite for dinner, but close enough to not be afraid of our differences.

Just sad I didn’t become a photographer first, before becoming a lawyer and a judge. So, I have to conclude that there must be some other more dominant gene in my system.

Barbara Grau, Dead Too Soon

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Barbara Grau died a few weeks ago. I photographed her last year for the official Temple Anshei Shalom’s President’s Wall. She had just gotten over her latest chemo/poisoning. We talked as we shot. She said she was satisfied with what she had done with her life. More importantly, she thanked me for making her feel beautiful again.

Anita Perlmutter, Dead at Almost 99

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So, I was going to shoot older members of Temple Anshei Shalom, people who no longer could make it to pray, but were instrumental in the building of the congregation. No much of an interest from anyone.

I pursued Anita for a couple of months. She was ill. She didn’t feel well. She had a therapy appointment. Her hairdresser was away. Then I got my chance.

We talked. She liked my new camera, telling me her husband had a Leica. We shot for five minutes after she finished breakfast. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to sleep or do the crossword puzzle.

I asked her how it felt to be 99? “You can be too old,” she said.

Two weeks later, she died. Two days short of her 99th birthday.

 

GUSSIE, almost 100

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So, I am walking out of a diner and I see this beautiful woman with her home care worker. I ask if I can take her picture. The home care worker says yes. She tells me the woman’s name is Gussie and she will be 100 in a week.

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I take a picture with the home care attendant.

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Then the daughter appears. I take another picture. The daughter asks me if I will come to the birthday party and take pictures. I say no, I don’t do events, but if you come to my studio, I will make portrait and give you a print at no charge.

I give the daughter my card. I tell her if she sends me an e-mail with an address, I will send her a print and a digital file for no money. Haven’t heard from her. And, don’t know her name.

Maybe it’s the time. She might think I am some kind of nut. Who after all would want to make portraits of old women?

 

 

Retirement Bogey

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They work their whole lives, some at jobs they hate. Put the kids through college where they didn’t go. They stay too long at their jobs, because they don’t know how much money they will need. And then they retire to Florida to play golf and eat at early bird special.

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The work took its toll. Bad diets. Stress. Passivity in the face of managerial terror. Ill conceived marriages. A little tax cheating here; a little all cash there. Skiing on the ice. And bad hips.

Death comes quicker than they thought. No one wants their mismatched, cheap clubs, used skis or crutches. That their precious goods would end up  at Goodwill or Faith Farms as estate tax deductions was unexpected, but predictable.

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So, we went to see the Cubbies. An hour and a half to get there. $20 to park. Tickets $150. $40 for two franks, a beer, a pretzel and a bottle of water. Hard to find seats. And, the Cubs played lousy and lost.

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Some fans can get pretty crazy about their team.

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I got to see Ichiro.

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But, the game is boring. Too many pitching changes and guys scratching their balls or spitting. That’s why they have these races and dumb music. It keeps the kids involved. But, I would rather watch on TV where I can lounge around, go to a clean bathroom and eat normal food.

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Now if I were only younger and stronger, I could shoot the game. Now, that would be fun.

 

Norman Frajman, Survivor

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So, Norman isn’t the first survivor I have met or photographed. His willingness to speak about the experience, along with his eloquence, was new. He shares his story tirelessly with groups in the Palm Beach County area in hopes of keeping the memories of the dead alive. Those who hear him  and see his mementos must feel as touched as I did.

How he survived is not so important. Those who lived through the hell of the Holocaust all have a tale. He cannot explain why he survived and others didn’t, except to say it was an act of providence. The violence and hatred he saw is unimaginable. That he and others can live without overbearing pain and paralysis makes him and his fellow survivors super human. That is important.

But, what is more important is that we never forget them and that the carnage will never be repeated.

Stars and Stripes

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So, we are shopping at Bed Bath and Bath and Beyond the Fringe. I have a coupon, which if you don’t, you should not shop without a discount. At the counter, Sharon donned this tiara. The sales woman said no one had bought one. Not surprising, in light of the comedy of the Republican party,  supporting a neo-facist who doesn’t realize who he is, because he isn’t smart enough and neither are his supportes.

Sharon said she hoped for America, so long as trumpolini didn’t survive. A woman standing at the next register, said, “Amen.”

Michael Marden, Survivor

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Michael Marden, 91, survived 9 concentration camps. Freed from Bergen Belsen, he went to Sweden and then the United States. He hold three patents, has grand-children and great grand-children. And he loves his life, except for not being able to have a daily hit of schnapps.

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Grandson Brian is in 11th grade. Has a photo business. Shoots bar mitzvahs, school evens and whatever. And he loves grandpa.

D-Day June 6, 2016

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70th anniversary and they don’t get easier. On Omaha beach, they landed and died. More came, stepping over their bodies. Some of them died, too. Kids who hadn’t lived. Kids with no idea of their mortality. They left mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers.

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How did Irvin die? Don’t know? But I can tell you why. He did it for me and I wasn’t yet born. I love you Irvin.

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Hallowed be the ground at the American Cemetery.

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Some guy I never saw before came to Anshei Shalom to say kaddish for the fallen at the Holocaust Memorial in front of the shul. He served in Germany, sometime. He needed a place to pray.

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May their memories be a blessing.