A Most Important Cemetery Visit

To the best of my knowledge there is only one Jewish Cemetery in Iasi, Romania. That is the important cemetery in this reflection from the past. I have written before that my father was raised by his Aunt Hana, his mother's sister, and Uncle Aron, her husband. My grandmother, Victoria, became a widow when her youngest child, Itic, was about 4 years old. Itic, my father, was the youngest of five children, four girls and then my father arrived. I wish I knew the whole story, the whys and wherefores, but I do not. My brothers and I have always assumed that she could not afford to care for all five children. Apparently Hana Gall and her husband, Aron, could not have children and so Itic went to live with them. And he lived with them until he was 15 years old, through all those formative years, they were his parents in most ways. We are sure he saw his mother at times over those years but we have no idea how often. We do know that the Galls were much loved figures in his life.



During those years Victoria's second and third children, two daughters died. As far as we know there was an epidemic that may have caused the father's death and that of one of the daughters. We do not know what caused the death of the other. Bertha, the older remaining daughter, came to the United States following the earlier immigration of her uncle and one aunt. Then, in 1920, Victoria brought Itic, soon to be Irving, and the youngest daughter Perla, soon to be Pauline to the United States.

It is difficult to understand how painful it must have been to leave his surrogate parents. As a parent today, I cannot even fathom how painful it was for his aunt and uncle. But, as it must, life went on and he began life in America. In 1928, Hana Gall died. Dad was not able to get to Romania before she died. As I understand he was devastated by that and it was truly one of the most painful times of his life. A year of so later Aron Gall remarried. As the story goes my dad was really angry and could not understand how he could do that.  I believe that is understandable way for a young man of 24 or so to feel. Again the years passed.

In the late 1980s my mother and father traveled to Iasi, Romania. This was her first trip. They say the building in which he lived as a child, they visited the Great Synagogue where Aron Gall had been the Cantor. And, of greatest importance, they were able to find and visit the grave of Hana Talmici Gall. A most important question of my father's was answered when the grave was found. Hana and her husband, Aron, were buried next to each other.  On their return my mom told us kids that that was the first time she had ever seen my dad really break down and cry as he did at that moment.

My siblings and I continue to regret all the questions we never asked; all the questions about what his life was like growing up, the things we will never know. Interestingly enough our cousins feel the same way about their mothers. All the stories are gone forever.