I wrote this yesterday. I apologize if it's nonsensical; I was crying at the time and don't have the energy to properly edit it.
My friend died this week. It came as a shock. That's hard to explain to people who didn't know him; David was 89 when he died. David (or Mr. Harris, as many of us called him) was an enthusiastic person who genuinely loved those lucky enough to be in his life. Our friendship dates back to one Simchat Torah when I was 7, and in response to some smart-aleck remark I'd made, David asked me to marry him. I pointed out that he was already married to Norma. He then proposed being my boyfriend. I considered it for a moment. The final deal we struck was that he would be my "80-year old" boyfriend - I was keeping my options open for a younger one, too. That little romance played out with love, and a kiss (and a l'chaim) every time I saw him, including the last time, over Rosh HaShana at the lake.
David was from the old guard of Scranton. Men like Grampa David (Fink), Poppa (Jerry) Ganz, and David's own brothers Sam and Phil. These were men whose yahadut was their everything. There was no separate life, no set of ethos that differentiated personal from professional. They worked to provide for their families. They davened and learned to provide for themselves. They were completely of the world and completely dati in a way that no other place has ever fully emulated. I can't think of a time or place that Jerry or either of the Davids would have refused to hug me or have me join their table to sing at a kiddush. They were the last stalwarts of a place I was proud to call home, a place that is no more.
David's passing is a blow on a personal level and in a far larger way. Growing up it was understood that a ba'al habayit (aka someone who works), was also someone who learned. The phrase learner/earner would have gotten you laughed out of town. But it wasn't because anyone was trying to prove something or trying to be "yeshivish". It's because that's what a sincere pashut yid does.
I've been blessed to know the people I have, and to still have other examples, like Heshy Plotkin, Dudi Horowitz, Sandy Holland, and my own amazing father. The next generations of Finks, Harrises, and Ganzes are the living legacy of the examples their fathers and grandfathers were, and I'm blessed to count many of them as friends. I am also blessed to see that the pashut yid who learns now includes the women in the families, like my mother, Beila Block, Andrea Harris, Sara Tessler, and many others.
Scranton as we knew it is gone. But we, the lucky ones who witnessed it, will carry that memory and legacy forever.
David, I will forever try to emulate the love, kindness, and caring you displayed to everyone, from old friends to the new faces in shul. You truly were a gadol, and I'm lucky to have called you 'friend'.
With much love,
Dani
