February 19th 2016 – Honoring William Goldsmith
July 29, 1918 to February 12, 2016
(I spoke for about 15 minutes at our Temple and summarized some of this. Hint: double click pictures to enlarge and then use the back button)
1 week ago my Dad passed very near our Temple here in Rome Georgia.
Just 2 weeks ago today, Bill Goldsmith and I were all over Rome and eating Lunch at Harvest Moon and having some medical tests done. He seemed pretty good over all. Walked well with just a cane and didn’t really need it (despite 2 metal knees). He enjoyed his meal.
The last 2 and 1/2 years this congregation at Temple Rodeph Sholom has made him feel very accepted. Like part of a family. Thank you so much for that. I only wish you had known when he was younger than his 90+ years.
Dad had just spent 2 weeks at my house where Leslie and I took care of him. We had a routine going. He would sleep in until 11 and come up to the office in the afternoons. He seemed to be doing very well shadowing me even going with me to aikido classes.
He was still quite spry for 97+. Wednesday morning the 10th after he had moved back to the Reniassance he was throwing up a lot so I brought him to the ER thinking it might be a bleeding stomach ulcer like last summer. We drove tightly holding hands. I mentioned taking the shorter, less scenic route, and he firmly affirmed the decision.
Before Wednesday, our plan was to move him out of Reniassance and to our house for good on Thursday Feb 11. I had boxes in the van to move him out.
This hospital visit was not so fortunate. He normally goes home after a few days and rebounds quickly.
A perforated bowel. Surgery would be a nightmare under normal circumstances but at 97. . He and I discussed the options while the meds hadn’t yet affected our interaction. I talked and sat thoughtfully, or he nodded. He had a glycerin swab in his mouth so it looked like he was sucking on a lollipop. Very out of character.
When we discussed palliative care rather than the surgical options he smiled to me contentedly and nodded as his eyes said Yes. A smile forever etched in my memory with that white cardboard stick held in his lips.
Leslie, Aaron and Alex came to visit and say goodbye. A few good friends from Temple also came by.
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He lived a full life. A pioneer traveling around the world twice a year for more than 2 decades, selling his ‘power piping fabrication’ for chemical and industrial plants AND over 72 electric power plants – 29,347 Megawatts from 1964 to 1978.
TURN OUT YOUR LIGHTS AT NIGHT AND LOOK AROUND.
Hundreds of millions of people flip a switch and get light because of his efforts.
Dominican Republic
India, Iran, Israel
Jamaica, Korea, Mexico
Philippines, Taiwan, Spain
South Vietnam ,Trinidad
Turkey ,USA, and Yugoslavia.
William advanced from mechanical engineer (with a few company owned patents in ‘pipe hangers’ to sales to sales of fabrication to creating international sales to President of the fabrication company called Tubeco in Brooklyn NY. Often he was the only American negotiating these multimillion dollar deals. Pre-fax much less email and internet.
His love of India goes back to WW2 when he was responsible for the planes and airstrip that flew supplies over the Himalayas into Burma and China to help the Chinese fight the Japanese. His deployment there was as the personal courier to some of the millions of dollars of gold that FDR loaned to TV Soong and the Chinese in return for their opposition to the Japanese. Back then the flights took many days. So he sat and talked with this Harvard-educated and future Minister of Finance for Taiwan.
He also loved Carnegie Tech, now called Carnegie Mellon University, where he got degrees in mechanical and aeronautical engineering. He served on the board of Mechanical Engineering plus the alumni organization for many decades. He helped create the charitable remainder trust program that also personally helped him through all these years. He gave money and time and served as president of alumni organization plus 2 search committees for two of the university presidents.
For the last few years he has been the oldest living trustee emeritus.
After retirement, he retired to a custom built home on Skidaway Island in Savanah, GA. He had custom built a home in Pittsburgh in the mid-50’s that was ultra-modern at the time with flat roofs and huge picture windows looking out over Roslyn Farms. The house he built in the 80’s at the Landings was also ultra modern with incredible views of a lagoon, a fairway and the Skidaway salt marshes Where they lived for 27 years.
While living in GA he also helped develop a golf putter that was tested at CMU. Dad worked with a wood based fuel system that could supplement coal and clean emissions. He joined the Board of Wheeling Pitt Steel to help them come out of bankruptcy and stayed on as they rebuilt the company. He helped float a bond for a huge independent and assisted living community in Savannah, The Marshes (yet he never got to move in as originally planned). And his final business project he was to be a major owner of a small power plant in India that burned wood refuse and trees grown to be fuel. The plant was built and developed electricity but due to some mis-management by those on site, that project was unfortunately his financial undoing at 90.
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I watched him take amazing care of Barbara as her last 5 years were very difficult with ovary and colon cancer, macular degeneration blindness and Alzheimer’s. He was with her always including when she passed in bed next to him.
He and I have spent a lot of time together these last 3 years since my Mom passed. We’d drive around the beautiful rural roads in NW Ga and a little of Alabama around Lake Weiss. He always remarked how pastural or wooded or clean this part of the world is. We would talk or sit silently enjoying the road and scenery. On Sundays we’d often watch Steeler Games together thanks to Sunday ticket. This was a pretty good year. And a few times every week we would go out to a restaurant to escape his apartment and the institutional food (which no matter how hard they might try, they aren’t Harvest Moon, Yummy Thai, Mellow Mushroom, Blur Fin Grill, Proveno’s, China City). Wow, we really ate out a lot. After these last few years, I will once again be cooking a lot more meals at home. (Non-GMO and organic – couldn’t resist.)
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The three most sacred moments in our lives – conception, birth and death.
I have been there 33 years ago, when Samara never took a breath because of a true double knot in her cord that took her life a few days before birth. I was there with Leslie and the same midwife 5 years later when Aaron was born. And I caught Alex The Quick before he could hit the floor of our 88 Dodge Caravan on our way to the midwife.
And now …
Last week today (on February 12th, 2016), I’ve was given the blessing of being a part in the nearly perfect transition of my father’s soul from this plane.
He and my Mom were planners and I was told in the 90’s that these few poems should be read at their services.
Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
So here it was, February 10, 2016 (the same day Samara was delivered) and he began feeling sick. Fortunately, he really only had 10 hours of serious discomfort and pain. He had the opportunity to decide on his own exit plan. I had the peace of mind knowing he was beyond content with his decision. Then, he was immediately in the comfort care. The morphine pain killers stoned him out and in less than 40 hours we got to say goodbye and he left.
He left before 7am on the 12th, which gave me the whole wonderful day to drive the rural wooded and riverside roads we enjoyed together and reminisce. A visit to a dam and lock we liked gave me a few peaceful moments in gloriously radiant sunshine to the relentless calming tune of the river.
Then over the next 3 days alone (my choice as my boys and Leslie offered often to help) I got to once again review his and my Mom’s lives. This was the 3rd time I had moved him in 6 years.
I cleaned his dressers and found three sterling belt buckles I made for him in the 70s including one of the boat we took summer trips in.
Packing their things so many times allowed me to develope quite the skill set. I know where I got my hoarder genes, from a showcase 5,500 sq ft. home, To a two bedroom apartment to a one bedroom apartment. (And now to my house and out buildings and a local warehouse.)
What a pleasure and honor it was getting to immerse myself in his and my mom’s lives one more time. Reviewing the holiday cards they wrote to each other and so many cards from so many of their friends, plus the ones we wrote to him, was so enriching and enlightening. Scanning pictures to share with family and friends. Has been now a 8 day memorial for me.
I’d also like you to know that none of you should feel ‘sorry’. My father lived a fabulous full life, married to his love for 70 years, got to see tremendous grandchildren, had a daughter-in-law who makes a wonderful wife and awesome mother and who took the reins of his finances while she navigated all of his expenses, taxes, insurances, and income for the last 6 years. That burden was lifted completely from his shoulders. He didn’t have any financial concerns since we moved him from Savannah in 2010.
Yes, he lost his wife, but he was there next to her when she passed. Similarly, I was with him, at 6:30 Friday morning. They gave him some morphine, I held his hand as he breathed strongly and steadily. I told him I loved him, said a prayer and told him he could leave and be with Mom any time he wanted. Ten minutes later he passed quietly with little suffering of which I was aware.
I don’t feel sorry for him because he got so much of life right. His successes both in power plants and my family still light up the world today.
Funeral Poem: Miss Me, But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little – but not for long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me, but let me go.
For this journey that we all must take
And each must go alone;
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
Miss me, but let me go.
– Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)
Facebook allowed me to experience an instant service when I needed it most, which was ‘Now!!’ So, so many people sent their condolences when he went into the hospital and after he transitioned. The display was touching beyond what I could have ever imagined. Thank you. What a phenomenon, new friends now, who I would pass in the halls in school and never spoke really seeing each other, have been a part of my life these last few years. People who know Leslie. FB friends who have served my dad and me in restaurants. Only the closest of family and friends have time for services. What a genuinely millennial way we now have of sharing. As a matter of fact, within hours, I just got a phone call from his dear friend in India who found out because of Facebook.
The downside to emails and electronic greeting cards, digital pictures and Facebook is that – what will our grand children have left to review of our lives? (Especially after an EMP ;+). Sorry, I couldn’t resist)
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I will miss him and our time together, but please don’t feel sorry for me because it is all perfect and to top it off, I got to bathe in all your warm wishes as well.
I am blessed. Thank you… Thank you… Thank you…
Bruce
Honoring William Goldsmith – Part 2
The River February 28, 2016
July 29, 1918 to February 12, 2016
On Friday the 26th, Leslie and I hiked out to the Tallapoosa River on our property. We blazed a trail so Sunday would be easier. It was a beautiful day on both Friday and Sunday. This is a perfect time of year to hike the woods. The air is crisp. The sky is cloudless. The underbrush and poison ivy are still non-existent and we’re not yet needing to watch for ticks or snakes. Make no mistake, this is the woods.
The river was quite swollen with some strong pre-spring rains recently. As we go we slightly widen the deer and dog trails and follow the stream down to the river.
On Sunday, Leslie and I are accompanied by Alex and Aaron plus some new friends John and Angie. We build a small fire at the edge of the river.
First I discussed why I felt the river was a perfect place to commemorate a life fully lived.
This has been beautifully described by Roshi Shunryu Suzuki in Zen Mind, Beginners Mind. To paraphrase my favorite chapter: The flowing river is the universe of our souls. It meanders and tumbles and creates eddies and pillows as it flows to enlightenment. Going over the waterfall it separates into individual droplets, each an individual incarnation in the physical world. At the bottom, we blend into the pool and return to the ‘universe’ awaiting our next waterfall and incarnation experience.
Then, I read a few paragraphs that felt right about living principles from Illusions – The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach
Learning is finding out what you already know,
Doing is demonstrating that you know it.
Teaching is reminding others that they know just as well as you.
You are all learners, doers, teachers.
Your only obligation in any lifetime
is to be true to yourself.
Being true to anyone else or
anything else is not only impossible,
but the mark of a fake messiah.
The simplest questions
are the most profound.
Where were you born? Where is your home?
Where are you going?
Think about these once in a while,
and watch your answers change.
The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu
The highest goodness is like water.
Water easily benefits all things without struggle.
Yet abides in places men hate.
Therefore it is like the Tao.
For dwelling, the Earth is good.
For the mind, depth is good.
The goodness of giving is in the timing.
The goodness of speech is in harmony.
In government, self-mastery is good.
In handling affairs, ability is good.
If you do not wrangle, you will not be blamed.
I commented on how this reminds me of living life like the Aikido principles of flowing like water and responding gracefully to our encounters as we get out of the way and ride the momentum of our moment.
and then Conversations With God by Neale Donald Walsch regarding dying with dignity.
You see, to a doctor or a nurse, death is failure. To a friend or relative, death is disaster. Only to the soul is death a relief — a release.
The greatest gift you can give the dying is to let them die in peace — not thinking that they must “hang on,” or continue to suffer, or worry about you at this most crucial passage in their life.
This was how I invited my Dad to choose his time because it was only his to choose.
Then we watched the last of the burning embers floating downstream to the Gulf of Mexico.
A perfect day.
Honoring William Goldsmith – Part 3
The Final Chapter – Pittsburgh
April 14th and 15th
Thursday morning the 14th Leslie, Aaron, Alex and I took a very early flight to Pittsburgh bringing with us my Dad (his last flight of many many hundreds of thousands – maybe a few million miles). We also had a photo presentation which I shared in an informal memorial with my cousins – Ellen, Pat, Lisa, John and Tim and good friends Franny and George. It was a very sweet send off as some shared their thoughts and memories of the last of a generation. I placed a special marble I made for them for their 70th wedding anniversary to be with them as my Dad was finally reunited with my Mom and they were sealed in together. I then read the 2 poems from above.
We continued the life celebration and reunion at a wonderful dinner that John arranged at a lovely downtown restaurant and he brought Mona so she could share the time with us.
After my family went to bed Tim and I toasted our dads who often shared martinis when ever they were together. We continued the tradition.
Friday Morning we visited CMU to experience some of the Spring Carnival event and look for the sculpture studio. The buggy races were interesting to witness but the fact that sculpture was so unimportant at CMU that there was no longer a foundry for casting bronze or a studio of glass furnaces like in the 70’s. It seems that 3D art at CMU is about digital. VERY disappointing. Also disappointing is the neighborhood where I lived for 3 years. It has slipped even further into poverty and even the neat and trim block I lived on was now run down.
Our visit to Mount Washington overlooks of the city and the meal in the strip district where we met some other friends from the past (some of John and George’s frat brothers) was much better. Best of all was a visit to the neighborhood where I lived from 3 to 12 years old. This is also where my Dad lived when he was little. He was actually born in the house next door to the schoolhouse I also went to for kindergarten through 8th grade.
We drove up to the house pictured above with my Mom from the magazine cover and it was a great visit. The present owner Matt was so kind to let us in and I proudly shared with my family what I had been describing for so many years. The house was beautifully and faithfully kept pretty much just as I remembered it. You CAN go home again after all. The tall tree in the indoor garden was still there and now has really grown up. I guess like me.
Aaron and Leslie left Friday evening for Atlanta and Alex and I went to George’s house as he was having a small party for those frat brothers. Since Alex and I were hours early we got a private tour of his amazing place and hobbies and and even help prepare the outdoor Tiki Bar for the party. No one throws a party like George, you have to take my word for it – unless you know ;+).
I was never a frat guy but it was interesting seeing Alex fit in so well with all these guys 40 years his senior. Late that night I again toasted dad with a ‘George’ martini and he graciously let us crash at his house.
Saturday Alex and I had a great view of a few buggy races (those drivers are crazy) and then visited the Pittsburgh Glass Works and saw some wonderful work in their gallery. We then flew home and our final goodbyes to my parents are complete, although never done.