My family would make great fodder for a compelling television sitcom. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more eclectic cast of characters than my relatives, too many of whom have passed. Whatever floats your boat, you’ll find someone to identify with in my family.
We still have our share of religious Jews, understandable given that my paternal and maternal grandparents were both observant and my grandfather on my mother’s side was an Orthodox rabbi. We also have gays, lesbians, and transgender persons. I have a genius environmentalist cousin who moved to Hawaii to make chopsticks after making a killing in the stock market and was among Elon Musk’s earliest Tesla customers. I also have two badass female cousins who tool around Michigan driving in-your-face Ram pickup trucks.
Need some medical insight and analysis? I have a relative who is a superb diagnostician, the best I’ve ever encountered. Do you like artsy films? The Starkman family has that covered. Might you care to learn about 3-D photography? I have cousins who are well known in that space. We even have a professional magician.
A late cousin married the daughter of an Academy Award-winning movie star who appeared in two of my favorite films of all time. I met the actor once at a family wedding and talked his ear off for nearly an hour. I also have a relative who met his wife at a family wedding.
Even Mike White, creator of HBO’s acclaimed White Lotus series, couldn’t make this stuff up.
My family has long been chock-full of bigger-than-life characters. My late Uncle Max, featured in the “About” section of this blog, parlayed an architecture degree from the University of Manitoba into becoming one of California’s most acclaimed architects. My late Uncle Davey, who I profiled in April 2023, was a debonair and gregarious dentist from Montreal who moved to Toronto in his 80s and made more friends there than I ever did – and I grew up there! He died just a few days shy of his 99th birthday and was as sharp as a tack almost until the very end.
There was my late Uncle Jerry (a.k.a. Specs Howard), who I profiled in September 2022 after he died at age 96. Uncle Jerry in his day was one of America’s top rock ‘n roll disc jockeys, in Cleveland no less, the home of rock ‘n roll. He overcame great adversity, including polio, prostate cancer, and melanoma.
And then there was my Aunt Ceil, Uncle Jerry’s beloved better half, who died last Wednesday night. She was 94 and left a great void in the hearts of her surviving sister, four children, 13 grandchildren, 18 great- grandchildren, numerous in-laws, and a multitude of nieces and nephews, including me. Although intellectually I knew it wasn’t true, Aunt Ceil maintained a youthful presence and outlook that made me think she’d live forever. Others shared that sentiment at her funeral service.
The world is a decidedly less kind and warm place with my Aunt Ceil’s passing.
Influence from childhood
Aunt Ceil, short for Celia, was a big part of my life since I was a kid, and figured prominently in many of my fondest memories. I’d see Aunt Ceil at least once a year when I was growing up, as she hosted my parents, sisters, and me for the Passover holiday every year. Although I never enjoyed the Jewish High Holidays and dreamed of being born Irish when they swung around, Passover was the lone Jewish holiday I truly enjoyed. It was an opportunity to hang out with my super cool cousins, Shelli and Marty, who are close to my age and to torment my younger cousin Jon, who surprisingly still talks to me. There was also Cousin Alisa, who is closer to Jon’s age, but who I never picked on.
Aunt Ceil was my mother’s sister, and they remained extremely close, despite living in separate cities most of their lives. They spoke on the phone at least once a week. Even in their later years, when my mother and Aunt Ceil got together they were like schoolgirls talking, laughing, and yucking it up, often until the wee hours of the early morning. Hanging with my Aunt Ceil was among my mother’s greatest pleasures, although they had very different personalities.
The Passover family tradition began when I was very young, and we’d drive to the East Liberty section of Pittsburgh to visit my mother’s parents and brother. East Liberty in those days had some seedy parts, but I loved the row houses, the crumbling back alleys, and fireflies that were common in the region. I made a few friends who I enjoyed hanging out with.
My grandfather died from colon cancer in his mid-60s, and my grandmother opted to move to Cleveland where my Aunt Ceil lived as well as her other daughter, Shane. My grandmother planned to spend Passover with Aunt Ceil’s family, and Aunt Ceil insisted that we join them. Eventually, Aunt Ceil moved to Detroit where my Uncle Jerry took a job co-hosting a morning show at a popular local radio station.
Detroit was an easier and closer drive from Toronto, and my Aunt Ceil insisted on hosting my family and grandmother for Passover dinners at her newly built home in suburban Southfield. Indeed, the home was so new that the driveway hadn’t yet been completed, the grass hadn’t yet been seeded, and some area streets were not yet paved.
Assigned seating
Even in the early years, hosting just my immediate family for several days of holiday meals was formidable. There were 14 people – five from my family, six from Aunt Ceil’s, my grandmother, and my Uncle Sydney (my mother’s and Aunt Ceil’s brother) and his wife. In short order, seating became increasingly more cramped.
My sisters and cousins got married and then began having children. Aunt Ceil continued to insist on hosting the fast-growing family for Passover, despite the formidable burden. Eventually, Aunt Ceil ran out of space to accommodate seating for everyone.
The understandable solution would have been to say, “Sorry, folks, I don’t have the capacity to accommodate the family anymore,” but that’s not how Aunt Ceil rolled. Despite being empty nesters, Aunt Ceil and Uncle Jerry opted to expand their house with a design that could accommodate more seating than many restaurants offer.
Eventually, my Aunt Ceil was hosting and cooking multiple meals for nearly 50 persons, forcing her to assign seating to ensure everyone had somewhere to sit. The Detroit Free Press published a story about our family Passover dinners, but regretfully it’s not available online.
Seemingly flawless effort
One might have expected Aunt Ceil to be overwhelmed by the task of feeding near 50 persons for multiple meals, but she made it seem remarkably easy. She began preparing and freezing the food weeks in advance in a special “Kosher for Passover” kitchen she set up in her basement, and she relied on the same persons to assist in the heating and serving of the meals. Eventually, they had it down to a well-choreographed routine, even remembering the food and drink preferences of everyone one year to the next.
Aunt Ceil never resented having her home overrun with guests, several of whom slept over and occupied every piece of available furniture possibly conducive for sleeping. Indeed, she derived considerable pleasure from the experience.
Aunt Ceil typically kept her thoughts and feelings very close to the vest. But often when I’d be marveling at how Aunt Ceil planned the family dinners with flawless execution, I’d look over to see how she was managing. Without exception, I’d see her taking in the experience with obvious satisfaction.
For Aunt Ceil, family was everything and seeing everyone together eating, talking, and enjoying themselves gave her tremendous satisfaction.
Always smiling
My most indelible memory of Aunt Ceil was that she was always smiling. She had a very special warmth and positivity that made her such a delight to spend time with. One of my early childhood memories of Aunt Ceil was her habit of humming while doing the dishes in the days when that chore was done manually.
Another lasting childhood memory of Aunt Ceil was her ability to navigate a shopping mall. Aunt Ceil lived within a 10-minute drive of the Northland Shopping Center, which in its day was the world’s largest shopping center. It was an intimidating place, but Aunt Ceil knew her way around and the stores she deemed worth frequenting. If nature called, Aunt Ceil could direct you to the nearest bathroom.
Decades later when Northland became increasingly crime ridden, I pleaded with Aunt Ceil to stop shopping there, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She told me that she didn’t want to abandon the salespersons who she dealt with over the years.
Northland closed more than a decade ago, and it’s a safe bet Aunt Ceil was one of the mall’s last customers.
Aunt Ceil’s store return policy
Most stores have fixed return policies, but Aunt Ceil regarded all retailers like Costco, which will take virtually all its merchandise back with proof of purchase and if it’s packed in its original packaging. Aunt Ceil was sometimes slow meeting return deadlines, but she somehow always managed to get a manager to override the policy. A big smile can go a very long way.
The family joke was that Aunt Ceil could return anything, anywhere, regardless of where she bought it.
Years ago, I convinced Nordstom to take back some suits I purchased, arguing they proved not to be of the quality I expected from the premium retailer. I was so excited to tell Aunt Ceil, I called her from the parking lot to let her know.
Aunt Ceil was an extraordinary cook, as was my mother. But when it came to desserts, Aunt Ceil had the edge because she preferred to add frostings while my mother preferred bald cakes. Aunt Ceil’s signature dessert was her chocolate marshmallow brownies, the best I ever ate and worth the calories of every morsel.
In the mid-80s when I lived in Detroit, Aunt Ceil would always save me brownies to take home whenever she made them.
And then there was Aunt Ceil’s quick wit. As an example, I once asked her if I could bring my dog for the Passover holiday, trying to persuade her that she’d grow to like him. (Aunt Ceil wasn’t a dog person.)
Without missing a beat, Aunt Ceil replied: “Remember when Uncle Sydney smoked, and I made him go outside and sit on the porch? That’s where you and your dog will be sitting if you bring him.”
Aunt Ceil’s longevity
There’s a saying that you are as young as you feel, but I’d argue it’s more accurate to say, “You are as young as people perceive you.” Even in her 90s, Aunt Ceil retained the same youthfulness I remember from when I was a kid – always smiling, always engaging, and always a delight to spend time with. Uncle Jerry was the same way, which is why their grandchildren and great- grandchildren grew up with a very different perception of the elderly and aging than most people.
Aunt Ceil didn’t smoke or drink alcohol, but she wasn’t into fitness or even taking long walks. Yet she was healthy and vibrant right up until she died at age 94. The secret to Aunt Ceil’s longevity wasn’t going to the gym but rather living selflessly and gaining joy from keeping her family together.
Aunt Ceil was loved by many and will be forever fondly remembered by everyone who knew her and benefited from her inspirational positivity.