Born 6/17/22, Died 7/19/11
Thank you all for coming to say goodbye to Ethel Slonim. It means a lot to Helaine and Robin and me.
As I reflect back over my mother's life, one early memory stands out. We were not a religious family. Nevertheless, my mother kept a kosher home. The butcher was a trusted friend of the family. But when my mother ordered meat, she never had him kosher or grind it. She ordered the cuts of meat that she wanted, and then she koshered it in her own kitchen. As you may know, koshering is a laborious process. It involves carefully washing the meat; then soaking it in water; then salting it; and then rinsing it thoroughly three times. After the meat was koshered, mom would clamp an old grinder to the kitchen counter, and she would proceed to grind the meat by hand. My mother went to this enormous effort because she wanted to know that any meat she prepared had been koshered properly, and because she wanted to be confident that any chopped meat she served her family was pure and unadulterated.
Anyone who knew Ethel knew that she was incredibly honest, hard-working, and frugal. These are traits that she tried to pass on to her children. I like to think that she mostly succeeded.
Mom was dedicated to her family, and was especially close to her brothers, Zel and Henry, who pre-deceased her. Her best times were spent with family at gatherings of the cousins club. There were vacations at Catskill resorts, outings to state parks, and a trip to Canada. My mother loved spending time with Sylvia and Herman; Lil and Charlie; Belle and Milton; Selma and Zel; and Rita and Henry.
Finances were difficult when my sisters and I were growing up. As soon as the children were old enough, mom went back to work as a bookkeeper to help provide additional income for the family. When my grandmother Minnie was unable to live alone, she came to live with us. Invariably, my mother sacrificed for the family, and she always put her own needs last.
When my mother learned of bad news, she often hid it from my sisters and me. I found this maddening, and I complained to my cousin, Ann Gorman. Ann was the family historian, genealogist, and psychiatrist. Ann explained that mom apparently felt that if she didn't talk about a distressing event, then it didn't exist. It wasn't that she wanted to hide bad news; it was a coping mechanism to help her through a difficult time.
Like others of her generation, my mother had her share of trials and tribulations, and plenty of difficult times. But ultimately she had a long and full life. We are fortunate that in her last years she resided in a lovely apartment, and that she was well-treated by the kind staff at Greenwood House. When the end came a few days ago, it was peaceful.
Rest in peace, Ethel.
