My mother called me to tell me that my great aunt Sylvia Greenberg passed away last Sunday. On my mother’s side of the family, Aunt Sylvia was the last of the “old guard” - a generation of Hungarians Jews, including my mother’s mother, who ventured to America before WWII. Those who did not make the journey - well, most didn’t make it through Hitler’s regime.
I wish I could write a comprehensive biography, but I don’t know enough details to really do her story justice. The best story I could tell is about my trip to New York in 1993, when I had minor aspirations to move there for all of the wrong reasons (yes, it was for a girl). Aunt Sylvia lived in New York, and I met her for lunch one day. At that time, she was in her early eighties, and she wanted to take me on “a little tour” of New York City. She proceeded to walk my nineteen year old rear off. On more than one occasion, I had to ask her to slow down so I could keep up.
I wish I could say she retained that energy until the very end, but that was not the case. It doesn’t really matter - her spirit that day is always how I will remember her. That’s good enough for me.
Sorry, Bryan. I wish I could have met her. It sounds like she is the kind of tour guide you want to have on a visit to NY.
That is sad, she sounds like a person who really lived an interesting life. I am glad you got to meet her. That is a story to pass on to others some day.