Condolence From: Kevin Kamen
Condolence: Today marks the 8th anniversary of my Grandpa Vic. I miss him so much, and to this day have dreams about him at least once a week. He spoke precious little about himself and, despite his vast knowledge on virtually every topic and insatiable curiosity and interests in just about everything, very few are aware of his brilliancy as an architect trained IIT (class of 1950), under Miess van der Roe and the other great architectural giants of the mid-Century. Stories he had told me about his education, which were few and far between and only when I asked, would only mean something to me years later in life. He knew at the time I was unaware of who his professors were, though I recall him telling me one story about his first assignment in architectural school, and how it was to draw on a sheet of paper a perfect wall of bricks freehand (like so: 🧱). That I remember his professor was Miess van der Roe was because I thought it was odd that he said the name of his professor. And years later, after he and my grandmother, a"h, would have taken me and my two older brothers to MANY historic houses (all the tours of the Frank Lloyd Wright buildings in the area, as well as the well-known House on the Rock and the lesser-known ones that were architecturally interesting, which at the time only those in the know would have known this would be a place worth touring, did I realize just how he was sharing his deep passion for what he was by trade, an architect, and didn't need to overly explain why such a place was important. The works he took is to spoke for themselves, and rather than speak exhaustively to his grandchildren about why this or that was important, he piqued our interests in architecture in ways that even as a kid, I looked forward to guided tours of houses and buildings I had no attachment to (unlike, say, guided tours of historic Springfield, IL, or Washington, DC tours, or some childhood home of Edison or whoever, or museums that of historical significance only to scholars and children forced onto a field trip, places that truly are boring unless you have a taste of the history and are already interested. So this was uncommon, and the way he shared his life was by understanding what he likes and why he liked it, done with a simplicity that was never a chore because his appreciation in what would otherwise seem esoteric to a child -- a tour of a house or studio of some architect -- was not for one reason: he was truly unpretentious in a way that respected the dignity of his grandchildren, whom he loved. It wasn't that he took us here because "education is important;" he believed that and embodied it, but I can only imagine knew that saying these types of things over and over would not allow us to discover on our own appreciation for this or that. In that way, this was a quiet, simply-motivated way to instill a lifelong and natural curiosity and love of learning. By no means was he simple; only his sophistication was genuinely a matter of passionate curiosity, and I fully believe in no way was he proud of himself for all his knowledge, as he spoke almost nothing of himself. Genuine humility is a rare quality, especially for someone so accomplished. I truly wish I knew more about his life that he didn't speak much of, but I also truly hope to emulate his artless approach: direct, warm, tolerant, and confident in a way that nonverbally communicates to those around that they are respected and that we are all in this together, no matter of age, race, religion. There is an old Yiddish saying -- Life is with people -- and how easy it is to forget this. My grandfather was not a temperamental person and I cannot recall any time I heard him complain unnecessarily, yet he was never a pushover. He was a mensch and a living example of how being genuine and thus with a disposition radiating a hopefulness that is organic, especially when it's perhaps quicker in the short-term to pander and treat people as a means to an end, never goes out of style. Some may mock; but a mensch sees the bigger picture, and may quietly feel deeply but outwardly is unphased what others cynically say out of being intimidated by encountering uncommon earnestness. I haven't ever witnessed any scoffers towards my Grandfather, but can only imagine how this would not be something that concerned him. For he was interested in ideas, the well-being of people, and showing those around him how one needs not praise when your approach towards life is unyieldingly curious, and values hard-work it's own reward.
"Where there are no men, be a man." Says Ethics of Our Fathers, the great Jewish work of advice written tersely and in a simple manner. A work studied unilaterally across the Jewish world and from time immemorial. Meaning show others the value and dignity of being a mensch. And where there are men, be a man as well.
I don't know if my Grandpa Vic, a"h, ever read this work; and by the time I did, I marveled at how true this rang, having already seen it so casually embodied by my Grandpa Vic, may his neshama have an aliyah. Today marks his 8th yartzeit anniversary, and his second TRUE one; he passed on the 23 Adar II, 5776, a leap year with one month extra that occurs every 4 years. He also passed on the Gregorian date of April 2, 2016. Both these days being today, which is VERY uncommon. The Jewish mostly solar calendar and the solar calendar of the Gregorian, 365-day year (this year 366 days) both have significance from a perspective according with true Jewish astrological views on time. And I don't know what that is, but it is felt somehow. I have pure faith and trust I will merit to meet my Grandpa Vic, a"h, again, somehow. The pain of mourning has passed, but I've never stopped feeling very close to him. Which burns forever hopeful.
Tuesday April 02, 2024
