Thinking of Dad

Just thinking about my father and how although this is technically where he now resides, he is with me everyday in every big decision I make.  

Herb Yalof's Dream Auction

Sunday and Monday

The Auction will be held at the William A. Smith Gallery

W.A. Smith Auction Gallery in Plainfield, NH
When: Almost Everything is on Sunday and a few pieces on Monday September 5 & 6 2010
at 1:00 PM
Click here for a Detailed Listing


It is a two day Auction almost everything will be on Sunday with other peoples stuff mixed in
For the LOTS click Here

Donations

Many of you have been so kind to ask where you can send donations in honor of my father, Herbert Yalof. We would appreciate greatly if they could be sent to the Norris Cotton Cancer Center please see info below. Thank you again. Suze


NORRIS COTTON CANCER CENTER
Dartmouth Medical School
One Medical Center Drive,
Lebanon, NH 03756

Quechee Memorial / Celebration

In lieu of another memorial service, Mom has decided to host a brunch to celebrate Herb’s life for her Vermont and New Hampshire friends. The brunch will be held on October 11th from 11-2.
The location is:
206 Remember Baker Lane,
Quechee VT,
05059

Looking forward to meeting you. XO Suze

Stephen's Eulogy

Before I talk about my Dad I wanted to thank one of his dear friends, Dr Mark Israel ,  for all of the support, guidance, advice and friendship that he provided to our entire family over the past 3 and half weeks.  Dr Mark Israel is the chief of the Norris Cotton Center at Dartmouth Hitchcock Hospital and one of my dad’s closest friends.  He was our rock, available to us 24 / 7 throughout our journey– during which time he lost his own mother.  For that we are all sincerely grateful to you and so profoundly sorrow for your personal loss.

And in the end the Love you Take is Equal to the Love you make.  My mom and I are the kind of people that always have a song playing in our heads.  This one has been playing for weeks  . . . . . . .

If you knew my dad, you would know that he was a lover.  He loved the City and he loved the Country.  He loved cashmere and he loved flannel.  He loved modern art and he loved antique collectibles.  He loved caviar and he loved pancakes.  He loved long walks and he loved his four-wheel drive.  He loved the New York Times and he loved the Quechee Valley News.  He loved to work and he loved his retirement.   But, most of all, he loved his family. 

My dad was an incredible father, mentor, role model and friend and he had a special connection with each of us. 

One of my earliest connections to my dad was through music.  I remember taking long day trips with the family to places like Hackelbarny Park, Flemimngton NJ or Uncle Spike’s house down the shore in Dad’s Lincoln Continental.  Leslie, Suzy and I jockeying for position in the back seat was always a source of potential stress.  So Dad would pop a tape in the 8-track player, and whether it was James Taylor or Carly Simon or Carol King or A Chorus Line, the car instantly became a calm and wonderful place filled with great music, and all of us singing along - and there was peace in the back -- even if you had the middle seat.   That was my first real taste of the power of music –which would later become an integral part of my life.

Dad’s favorite was Bobby Short.  He grew up splitting time between New York and Miami with his friends Paul and Buddy and Bobby Short provided the sound track.  A few years ago I was at a cocktail party and Bobby Short entertained with a short set of his classic songs.  After the set I approached him and introduced myself as the son of a long time fan.  He was thrilled and asked my fathers name, signed a disc and shook my hand.  I stepped away from the piano and grabbed my cell phone, called my Dad and told him  - Dad you are not going to believe who I just met.  As I was telling the story, I got a tap on my shoulder – I turned around and it was Bobby.  He took the phone out of my hand and spent the next ten minutes chatting with Dad, about music and life!  It was an incredible moment for me to experience – Dad on the phone with one of his life-time heroes.  And when I finally got the phone back – I could tell in his voice that it was an epic moment for him too.

We also connected through sports.  Dad loved basketball and football.  An avid fan of the NY Knicks back in the late 60’s and early 70’s I was fortunate to sit shoulder to shoulder with dad during the Knick’s glory years.  We attend games as a family  at Madison Square Garden.  The arena was the one of the most amazing places on earth.  We always had great seats and I was convinced Dad new the players personally – since he freely yelled instructions to them from his seat.  I’m sure they listened; he was after all on a first name basis with all of them, like Clyde, Willis and Pearl.  I remember before a Saturday afternoon game against the Washington Bullets during the great run in 1972 – we saw Bullet’s Center Wes Uncel walking into the arena.  My dad shouted over -  “hey Wes” and he stopped in his tracks and looked at my Dad with his signature curled-lip snarl.  I was terrified but Dad looked right at him and said “I want to introduce you to my son Stevie”.  I was nine and he was the meanest, tallest and biggest person I had ever seen in my entire life.  He walked over, cracked a huge smile and shook my hand.  For years I wondered if Dad really knew him, or if Wes – was just in a rare good mood. 

As for the New York Jets . . . . . Believe it or not Dad was always a Giant fan.  And I grew up a Giant fan.  I even had a New York Giant Mighty-Mac winter coat Dad bought me at Bamberger’s as proof!  Until that fateful day in 1988 when Dad came home from work and told me, “Great news!  I acquired 8 tickets on the sunny-side behind the home team bench on the 35 yard line”.  I of course assumed they were for the Giants.  But alas . . . --- and that’s when I started the long and often painful transition from Blue to Green.  And much to my friend’s Brad and Dave’s chagrin – the transition took.  But at the end of the day it wasn’t about the Giants or the Jets -- Blue or Green -- it was about continuing the tradition of spending Sunday afternoon’s with my Dad – talking about work and friends and life and watching a little football.  When Dad and Mom moved to Boston and then VT years ago, I kept the tickets and now that Sunday afternoon tradition lives on with my son Jon and I.  In retrospect, I think that was always part of his plan.

If you knew Dad then you knew how incredibly funny and quick witted he was.  He was always prepared with a quick comeback if challenged, however he was much better at listening to a joke then he was at telling one.  He left that up to his two brothers Harvey and Philly, both recently departed, but still the sunshine of his life.  They were three brothers of the closest order and all of us 8 kids between them grew up together listening, laughing and learning from their amazing example the importance of the family.  

And as funny as he was he had an equally serious side.  He lived by a set of old fashion values, instilled by his father Albert, and passed on to Leslie, Suzy and I.  At the core was the virtue of hard work.  He believed that you could accomplish anything if you truly applied yourself.  If you asked him “ what do you want for your birthday day, he would simply stay – work hard and get good grades. “  That was the only thing he ever asked for and I find myself – when asked the same question by Brooke and Jon – answering the exact same way.  He never considered himself the most talented, best educated or even the cleverest guy in the room (even though he probably was).  But he always knew that he was the most honest and hard working and credited those two virtues as the cornerstones of his success.  And he was smart, scary smart.  Sunday Times Crossword Puzzle smart, bet it all on Double Jeopardy smart! He amazingly knew the answer to every question and if he didn’t he would pull out the encyclopedia (remember those) and look it up with us until we both knew that answer.

And he was brave.  Over the past several weeks we learned how brave he really was.  From the moment he was diagnosed and map of his future rolled out in front of him he made a decision.  One that considered the magnitude of treatment coupled with the low probability of success.  Guided by the experience of his mother and brother and the selflessness of heaping his burden on the shoulders of those he loved the most.  He wanted to enjoy a swift and comfortable journey tuned to the rhythm of his family’s flow.  So he called my sisters and I separately, explained his course and asked us all for his support.   Which we all pledged immediately.

What followed were several magical days this past weekend in the Vermont home that he loved.  Where we collected together as a family and where each of us had  a quiet moment alone to say the things some never get to say.  And on that beautiful fall,  VT afternoon, with Leslie, Suzy Mom and I holding him in our arms - - he opened his eyes to look at us all and decide that he was at peace. 

Less than 12  hours later – our family was blessed with the birth of a new child, who Mom believes had encountered Dad in their transition.  If he grows up with a passion for Texas Hold E’m and sunflower seeds we will know for sure.

I will close with this last lesson – and that is the lesson of love.  My Dad loved my Mom with all of his heart and all of his sole.  They met over fifty years ago and have seldom been apart since.  They were best friends, sole mates and partners in the truest sense of the word.  And although that love has been obvious to me, Liora my sisters their husbands, our kids and to every one who ever had the pleasure of knowing them, it was never more evident than over the past few weeks.  Where I saw their love tested in ways I can’t even describe.   Mom I’m in awe of your strength, your loyalty your compassion and your leadership.  And as a family we will all miss dad together  .

And in the end  - the love you take is equal to the love you make!

Leslie's Eulogy

Growing up as Herb Yalof’s daughter was a treat. When the other kids on the block were getting the latest and greatest toys, I always got the latest in fashion. When I was six years old the hot new item was a paper dress. My father brought one home for me on a Friday night and I put it on the next morning. It was a day we were headed to the zoo. I was so proud of my new paper dress, until we got to the petting zoo area. There, while I was feeding the chickens, a goat came up and started eating my dress. My knee length paper dress soon became a mini-skirt and threatened to become even less than that. My dad merely turned to me and said, well now you really have the latest fashion.

Through out much of our childhood, on Sunday mornings, Dad would wake up and ask us, who isn’t doing something today? There was always one of us who had no plans. At which point, he would say, O.K. you and I are going out, you have 30 seconds to decide where you want to go and then I am picking (his pick would have been foxwoods, had it been around at the time.) I once asked to go to a restaurant for lunch which was in Amish Country, 2 and 1/2 hours away. Without blinking an eye he got in the car and away we went. I am still amazed that my father would drive so far just to have lunch at a place I requested. But that was my dad. He would do anything for anyone.

His generosity of spirit went far beyond his own family. One story among many typifies my dad’s generosity. Macy’s had an executive elevator that was run by an elevator operator named Benny. At least once a month, Benny would admire my father’s tie. He would say to my dad Mr. Yalof, I really love the tie you are wearing. Without hesitation, my dad always said, Benny, since you like it so much, I want you to have it. And with that he pulled off his brand new tie and handed it over.

Not only did he enjoy doing for others, he also made sure we always felt special about what we did for him. Each father’s day, my dad had a tradition of wearing to breakfast all the gifts we had given him. Once, when we were all already grown, I with two young kids of my own, we celebrated father’s day in Vermont. I think Suze gave my dad cotton pajama’s which he loved, Stephen gave him a tie, my kids gave him a gator hat and I had given him a wallet. Imagine the site when he came down in a tie, a gator hat and a wallet tucked in his new pajamas. And he would wear it the whole day, letting us know that what we chose for him was just perfect.

I would be remiss without acknowledging what a remarkable grandfather he was. A few years ago, when my kids were in need of a little extra TLC, on several occasions, my dad awoke early on a Sunday morning to make the drive down from Vermont to Larchmont in time for breakfast, just to make his special chocolate chip pancakes. These pancakes became so legendary and important that three weeks ago, when we were all together and he was really weak and sick, he got out of bed to make sure his seven youngest grandchildren got their pancakes. He wanted to show them he was o.k. On our way home that weekend, Ross even said to me, Grandpa is fine, he made us our pancakes.

And that is exactly what my dad wanted until the end, to make sure we knew he was fine. He wanted to take care of us, not for us to take care of him. This past weekend, we had a running joke that despite the fact that my dad was only semi-conscious, he was still able to throw me out of the room every time I offered to help him. He didn’t want us to help him, he was the strong one, our leader and the boss. (Although my Mom did give him a run for the money these past few weeks, showing that she is stronger than anyone) Suze, Stevie, my Mom and I all agreed that the remarkable swiftness with which he left this world was by his own design and on his own terms. He took care of us until the end, making sure that we would not suffer for a long time worrying about or taking care of him.

My father was a remarkable man. He was smart, handsome, and incredibly funny. A few weeks ago, when he was in the hospital, which he hated, he told me that time stood still. He would look at the clock at 1:00 and then three hours later it was 1:03. I wish I could do his sense of humor more justice – I assure you, he had us laughing every day of our life.

I am sorry that my father is gone so soon, but I am grateful that Lauren, Danny, Ross and I as well as my brother and sister, brother in law and sister in law, nieces, nephews and cousins had the benefit of his teachings. He showed us by action, and not by words, how to be kind, hard working, thoughtful and generous. He taught us good manners and the importance of fine things – which, by the way, he could find just as easily at Asprey and Paul Stuart as he could at Walmart. I will miss my dad terribly but I take comfort in knowing that because of his profound influence on everyone that he touched, he will live on forever. Everyone thinks they have a great father, and I am no exception. He really was the best father I could ever ever wish for.

Noonie's Eulogy

Dear Grandpa,

You were only 51 years old when I was born. The other day, Mom told me the that when I was a baby, you would put me in a snuggly and take me out for walks in New York and people would look at you like you were my father and I was your little girl, and although we are more than one generation apart, you have always treated me like your daughter. Twenty-one years later, I finally figured out that when you said “help your mother with the dishes” you meant grandma, and when it was “listen to your mother”—well, that was really mom.

There have been several moments in my life when I’ve realized that no one in the world is like you. Your overwhelming generosity, honesty, and love for family was so inspiring and clear to me, Danny, Ross, Brookie, Jon, Austin, Tyler, and even Coopie. you rarely had to give us life lessons, because we all just hoped we could be as good as our Grandpa Herbie—I still do, and always will.

There were, of course, certain lessons that I did need to be taught. Among the many times you took on a role that exceeded far beyond that of a typical grandfather was our trip to look at Middlebury College, just the two of us. Toward the end of our tour, I skillfully guided you toward the bookstore, where I “happened” to come across a sweatshirt that I was really going to “need” for the next two cold Vermont summer nights. Seeing as it was the polite—and strategic—thing to do, I offered to buy the sweatshirt for myself. To my surprise, you took me up on the “kind” offer. I don’t believe I ever tried to hustle you, or anyone for that matter, again.

As much as you were paternal, you had your grandfather ways too, and you have always made me feel like the luckiest granddaughter in the world. You taught me how to play marbles (or as Tyler calls them, “Normals”) when I discovered your collection in the guest house, and when I told you I wanted to go back in time to a 1950s malt shop, you made me an egg cream. For my 21^st birthday card, you counted the minutes that I had been alive just to let me know how very important I was to you and have been for every single one of those minutes. As I’m sure everyone knows, breakfast was your specialty, and on any given visit we were guaranteed our choice of of bagels, lox eggs and onions, a jelly omelet, AND of course, chocolate chip pancakes.

As everyone has and will mention, it was your unparalleled generosity that has had an impact on everyone you have come across, and we were no exception. Both mine and Danny’s ever expanding collection of “vintage” cashmere sweaters is a testament to this, as you would often literally give me the sweater off your back. Whenever you caught me eying a sweater, it was only a matter of seconds before you took it off and handed it right over. You must have done this quite often, because it recently occurred to me that every one of my seven roommates is now sleeping in one of your sweaters.

I don’t even think that you knew how generous you were. The summers that I was working at camp, I would spend weekends with you and grandma, arriving every Friday dirty laundry in hand. But every time I left you would hand over a gas-money “handshake,” which made me feel like I was doing you a favor by visiting, even though it was I who felt lucky to be spending time with you.

In an effort to comfort me, Grandma told me yesterday that you’re not really gone, because there is so much of you in me—and in my brothers and cousins, I know she is right. When I see Danny’s independence and work ethic, Ross’s warmth and love for family, Brookie’s incredibly mature values, Jon’s sense of humor and famous Yalof eyes, Austin’s brains, Tyler’s smile, and Coopie’s constant happiness, I know that I can always find a little bit of you in them whenever I need my grandpa again.

Love,

Lauren