I am so happy each of you are here today. My life, just like yours, has been touched in some way by my grandfather, Lou Anche Chaifetz. While you have so many special memories shared with him, I wanted to share a few of my own moments with you today.
Pride. Pop Pop was really big on pride, why else would he post a card that read, “Lou Chaifetz, Area Manager, White Westinghouse”, on the door of Atlantic City’s least desirable apartment. This was my Pop Pop.
Pride. My Pop Pop loved the sea and would love to have each of us remember him as a brave and skilled boat captain. For anyone who ever voyaged on his Grady Whites, the LouEl1 or LouEl2, you know this was not the case. He fancied himself as a fisherman. With an ice cold Rolling Rock in hand, he would venture out into the swells of the Atlantic Ocean, determined to bring home “the big catch.” If the big catch was half a bucket of bait fish, and some sardines from his sandwich, then we was the world champion of fishermen. His secret spots were never secret, his bait never caught the eye of a hungry fish, but boy did he look good shirtless holding a beer. He called himself, “Captain Lou,” and his proof, was that golden anchor medallion around his neck. The mystery that has yet to be revealed to me is how he and Mom Mom always had a full freezer of Flounder they swear they caught. Looks like I was easy to believe his fish tales.
To this day, my brother and I aren’t sure if that stuffed Marlin he had on the wall was one he caught or if he bought it.
My Pop Pop was special
Fridays with Frank, Sundays with Sinatra and the sounds of Francis Albert are the soundtrack to the memories I have of my grandfather. When I close my eyes, and think of the hundreds of stories I could tell, they all look like the old slide shows that Lou and Eleanor would make their friends and families sit through after one of their many trips around the world.
To me, my Pop Pop was tall, robust and had the best smile, especially when his arm was around his best girl, Eleanor. When Lou smiled, there was pride in his grin and a twinkle in his eye. He had a presence about him that people were drawn to and a confidence that was undeniable.
He was a great salesman, a chef who cooked with gusto and was a golfer with a horrible slice. He knew the healing power a bowl of ice cream could have. He had a salad dressing so delicious and secretive, he didn’t put it in the will. He had a vocabulary that could make a sailor blush. But, the man could dress to impress like none other. Now I know where I get it from.
He was also an amazing pen pal. I have a box of letters from when we used to write back and forth when I was a kid in summer camp.
My Pop Pop Had a Lot to Say
My Pop Pop always had advice. For instance, before I went on my first job interview, he told me that I better wear a low cut shirt.
My Pop Pop had so much left to give and say, even after so much had been taken away. While Parkinson’s may have inhibited his ability to clearly respond, he became an amazing listener.
In the last few years, we didn’t communicate using words, it was too difficult for him to get them out. Instead we relied on an unsaid language, one that utilized kisses, hugs, a squeeze of the hand or a deep consoling stare. I knew he loved me very much and he always found a way to tell me in his own special way.
Thank you all for being his voice today. Together we can tell his stories forever and let the love live on for this special man
