Check out the Story on NPR's The California Report 5/15/09 4:30 - 5:00, 6:30 -7:00!

Here's the scoop:

Mezuzah in Space a Second Time

    A replica of the Barbed Wire Mezuzah by artist Aimee Golant has gone into space with Astronaut Mike Massimino in order to honor the life of the first Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon. The mezuzah will make the voyage to the Hubble Telescope on the Atlantis Space Shuttle.

    The mezuzah, commissioned by the 1939 Club in Los Angeles, accompanied Ilan Ramon and was destroyed in the Columbia Space Shuttle crash in January of 2003.  Ramon was a child of Holocaust survivors, and as the first Israeli astronaut, he wanted to bring an artifact into space that commemorated the Holocaust. 

    In search of the right object, he approached The1939 Club, a group of Holocaust survivors and their families in Los Angeles. Golant’s family are Holocaust Survivors and members of the 1939 Club.  When they heard about Ramon’s quest, they recommended that Golant submit a picture of the mezuzah for consideration and the board approved.

    After the crash the 1939 Club commissioned Golant to make another “Barbed Wire Mezuzah” to give to Ramon’s widow, Rona, as a gift.  Mike Massimino was in flight school with Ramon and wanted something special to commemorate his friend on his next voyage into space.  Ms. Ramon recommended another “Barbed Wire Mezuzah.”  The 1939 Club asked Golant if she would be willing to replicate the piece.  She recreated it in April of 2008 and donated the mezuzah for the flight.

    In Jewish tradition, the mezuzah is a statement of faith, written in Hebrew on a tiny scroll contained in a decorative case fixed to the front doorpost.  It reminds us of our oneness with all people, and our responsibility to honor G-d by upholding and teaching the values of loving kindness, truth and compassion.  Our home becomes a sanctuary, bringing the hope of a better world.  

   Aimee Golant is a 6th generation metal artist and a grandchild of Holocaust survivors. She creates contemporary Judaic art in order to preserve, share and illuminate the universal within Judaism. She has been creating Judaica since she was in college at San Francisco State University in 1992. Her evocative an award-winning judaica is exhibited nationally and included permanent collection at the Jewish Museum of New York. Aimee is currently partnering with many non-profits to raise funds for philanthropic causes through her art, including the Holocaust and Diversity programs at Whitwell Middle School in Tennessee home of the famous documentary Paper Clips.

WOMEN'S TORAH PROJECT

TORAH CROWNS

Artist's Statement

CROWNING  OUR PAST,  PRESENT AND FUTURE       

I have designed crowns to reflect the bold new direction taken

by the Women's Torah Project, which opens the door for

women to break the time-honored tradition that allows only

men to scribe the Torah.  

These Torah adornments combine the best of tradition,

starting with the pomegranate, the sacred Shiv'at Ha-Minim

mentioned in Exodus as the symbol of both righteousness

and fruitfulness, here shown in warm earth tone materials - 

copper and a brown diamond, accented with silver and 22k gold.

At the same time I have created a clean, purposeful and

sculptural design which is intentionally contemporary

and reflective of the dialogue evoked by the Project.   

In my own life, as a grandchild of Holocaust survivors, and 

full time metal artist, I have devoted my artistic career to making

Judaica that will preserve, illuminate and share Jewish traditions while honoring

women building pathways to new and exciting futures.

Here is the new Seder plate.  It is a hand crafted replica of an original one-of-a-kind designed by Aimee.  It is made of a high quality silver and tin alloy in her San Francisco studio.

The Women's Torah Project continues.... New scribe Linda Coppleson of West Orange, NJ has already finished two panels since she joined the project late last year.  (An image of her flawless work is below.)  The WTP will be making the Women's Torah and it's collection, including a K-Adult curriculum being developed by project advisor Rabbi Yohanna Kinberg, available to other congregations and communities that are interested in joining the project. Please contact office@kadima.org to find out more about the WTP time-share. The Torah's crown that  I have been working on will be completed this year.

Hello,

    This week marks the 70th anniversary of Kristallnacht - the Night of Broken Glass for all the shattered window panes on German Streets of Jewish homes and businesses at the start of what would be known as The Holocaust.  Ironically this week I have returned from an amazing trip to Whitwell Middle School in Whitwell Tennessee, home of the famous documentary "Paper Clips." If you have not seen the movie-- I can't possibly recommend it more.  As a grandchild of Holocaust survivors, I was so inspired by the movie that I made them a special mezuzah that I use to help raise money for their Holocaust program.  Last week I went there to affix the Hope Mezuzah on their new school.  Read on:

My Whitwell Experience
By: Aimee Golant

    My mother-in-law Helene Casella and I arrived at Whitwell Middle School on November 6, 2008 at 8:30 am central time.  The building was modern, two stories non-descript brick and cement with a pitched roof.  Almost immediately from the car in the parking lot, Helene noticed the rail car right in front of the building.  Since I was driving and focused on finding a parking spot, I did not see it when we pulled in.  Once I got out of the car, as I neared it on foot, I could see it and feel the foreboding presence of the railcar.  I almost immediately broke down crying and sobbing. I went back to Helene and cried on her shoulder.  

    I was not expecting the attack of tears—I did not feel the big cry coming.  Rather the emotions took a hold of me.  I wasn’t so much sad—although there is always sadness present when I think about the Holocaust.  I was more moved, or deeply touched by the presence of the railcar in this most unlikely of places.  It was a strange mix of emotional gratitude, astonishment, a feeling of pride and honor, and a sharp sense of tender pain.  After several minutes of emotional purging, I wearily gathered my senses, blew my nose, wiped my tears, and we decided to enter the building.
   
The Children’s Holocaust Memorial and the front of the new Whitwell Middle School

     There were four doors leading to the entrance of the building.  Only one was unlocked on the far left.  We noticed smiling friendly faces peering through the glass in the office on my left as we entered.  We went inside the foyer and then into the office and introduced ourselves.  Right away we noticed there were new tee shirts that had been printed for the dedication—they said, “Whitwell Middle School – Where Miracles Begin.”  The school librarian Janice Hooper explained how hard they had worked hard to make sure every student at school would have a shirt for the dedication ceremony even if they could not afford to spend the $15 to buy one.  Helene and I pledged to buy several of them later to give as gifts when we returned home.  

    In the office I briefly explained who we were and why we had come. The people in the office were beaming at our presence.  They seemed to really appreciate how far we had traveled to be there.  We filled out our visitor’s badges and put them on.  One teacher came out who I recognized from the movie.  I asked to be reminded of her name.  It was Sandy Roberts the teacher of the Holocaust.

    Sandy Roberts brought us across the hall to the new Holocaust library.  Then she said, “Aimee Golant, Aimee Golant—I know that name.  You are the one who made us that beautiful mezuzah!”  “Yes”, I said glad at least my art had made an impression “That is me.”  Sandy remarked that she had one of the mezuzahs I made at her house.  I was a little surprised to learn this since I hardly remembered sending more than just the original copper one, but then I did recall that I sent a pewter one as well.  

    Not knowing anything about the events over the next 48 hours Sandy explained that there would be an open house that afternoon at 4pm and a dinner honoring about 160 people (including Helene and I) that evening.  We asked Sandy if it would be possible to see Linda Hooper, the school principal and overseer of this amazing Holocaust program.  Sandy said she was in the auditorium getting ready for the dedication ceremony.  She would let Linda know that we were here and that in the meantime we could browse the library.
Before leaving the room, Sandy gave us a tour of the library and filled us in on the project. There were hundreds of books many of them donated, artifacts, notebooks full of the original letters from people who had sent paper clips, computers with the letters uploaded from all 50 states and 6 out of 7 continents, and most surprisingly an arc with a Torah inside.  We were impressed and Sandy explained that this library rivals only university Holocaust libraries. 
     
Sandy shows us the Torah and gives us a tour of the library

    She explained how far the program had come since the she began teaching the Holocaust over 10 years ago.  Not only did they have this amazing facility but Whitwell Middle School began a partnership with the Tennessee Holocaust Commission to implement the Holocaust curriculum in schools across Tennessee and eventually throughout the all of the southern US states.  She also mentioned that along with the 1200 people expected for the dedication, the film crew from the original movie was expected at the school any minute.  They had begun filming the sequel.  All the events surrounding the dedication ceremony would be captured on film.  After she left, we did browse the books and letters.  I decided that I wanted to go inside the railcar on my own.  This is something I had not had the chance to do while weeping outside of it when we first arrived.

    I left my purse, computer and art in the library when I went outside to the railcar.  As I neared the railcar more tears seemed to effortlessly drain from my eyes.  I reflected on evil as I entered.  The floorboards of the frail old railcar bent and creaked under my feet.  I noticed there were no windows in the railcar—only spaces between the wooden slats where you could barely see light.  As I walked inside I began to reflect on my family’s own experience:

    My family – my maternal grandparents, their parents and almost all of their siblings as well as more distant relatives—cousins and uncles were in these cars with a hundred more starving and scared people.  (My grandparents were in their 20’s at the time, and their grandparents opted not to leave the small Polish town of Chmeilnik and were shot in their beds.)  After days, or perhaps weeks of travel in a railcar just like the one I was standing in, the family was separated from one another.  Without warning, at a junction a Nazi Officer opened the railcar door and announced that all the men must get out.  It would be several years before my grandparents would be miraculously reunited at the end of the war.

    I sobbed and swayed in the car surveying the 11 million paperclips.  They were beautiful actually—luminescent.  It seemed like the people who made the memorial chose only the most beautiful paperclips to be on top—colorful ones, transparent ones.   The sheer number of them was overwhelming.  There was a suitcase full of apologies to Anne Frank from German students.  There was a mezuzah inside the one of the wall cases with the paper clips as well as one on the doorpost as you enter the railcar.  I could not bear to stay long in the car.  As I left, I wrote in the journal at the base of the car.  I expressed gratitude for this Children’s Holocaust Memorial.  The theme of gratitude would definitely come up again and again throughout our visit to Whitwell.

      
Inside the Children’s Holocaust Memorial

     Again, blowing my nose and wiping my tears I reentered the school and the Holocaust Library.  The library is the first door on your right as you enter the building.  While I was gone, Helene busied herself with all of the books.  She was totally impressed with the books that were specifically geared towards teaching the Holocaust to kids.  She wrote down titles and authors.  

    I decided to call my mom—she had brought the Holocaust to me and would understand the grief and honor.  It was really early in the morning in Los Angeles (I had almost forgotten about the time change), but luckily she was awake eating breakfast when I called.  My mother could hear the tears in my voice within the first word I spoke.  I explained all that is going on here, the new school, the Holocaust library, the Children’s Memorial, the Torah and all.  I could not stop crying as I reported the morning’s discoveries.  I told her it was simply unbelievable that this was happening here in the South.  Words could not express how touched I felt.  She listened intently and told me to call back often with updates.  I promised I would and we said our goodbyes.   Helene then decided to go out to the railcar, bringing only her digital camera.  I stayed in the library reading the letters to Whitwell from around the world.  I continued to cry softly as I read the letters.

 
Crying on the phone to my mom

     Helene was by the memorial for about 30 minutes.  Once she was finished, as she entered the foyer, I saw Linda Hooper also convene there with her at the same time.  Helene and Linda shook hands and Helene introduced herself.  I stepped out of the library and into the foyer to meet Linda.  Linda’s first words to me were, “I know you.”  Instead of shaking hands we hugged.  She was so warm.  I teared up again.  I told her I had been crying pretty much uncontrollably all morning.  She reassured me that that was normal around here, especially with everything that is going on.  I also mentioned that I was 13 weeks pregnant.  We hugged again.

     We went back into the Holocaust Library to talk about the next two days.  She let me know, much to my happiness, that my mezuzah would be affixed tomorrow after the dedication ceremony onto the doorpost of the Holocaust Library that we were standing in.  She also pointed out that I would be setting up my art work in the hallway on the way to the auditorium this afternoon for the open house and for the next morning for tomorrow’s events.  

    We went into the office and she and I looked over the program for the dedication ceremony.  We realized together that my name had been left off the program.  She immediately reassured me that I would have time to speak, apologized for the mistake and had a student reprint some programs for us with my name on them.  Confident now that we knew roughly what to expect over the next day or so, Helene and I were ready to take the 40 minute drive through the gorgeous Tennessee Mountains full of autumn leaves back to Chattanooga where our hotel was.  By this time, it was around 12 noon central time; we purchased our souvenir tee shirts and headed back to have lunch and a rest. 

    We arrived back at Whitwell Middle School around 3:10pm that same day.  I would love to say I was refreshed after having eaten lunch and taken a nap, but with the extremely early mornings, long travel, jet lag, the endless hours of work, the excitement over the election the previous days and the extremely emotional morning I had, plus being in the early stages of pregnancy, physically, I felt lousy.  I was certainly coming down with a cold.  I reassured Helene that as soon as the festivities began, I would forget about my cold (except for the sniffling and sneezing) and would be able to enjoy these moments along with all of these kindred spirits.  

    Never a more true statement—as I set up my artwork in the hall along with the students and faculty who were selling the tee shirts people began pouring in for the open house.  I got to meet all kinds of prominent people in the Southern Jewish Community including, Jodi Elowitz and Felicia Anchor the executive director and commission chair of the Tennessee Holocaust Commission, Jeffery Gubitz from the Knoxville Jewish Alliance, Danny Spungen from the Spungen Family Foundation, Steven Edelstein from the Jewish Federation of Nashville, Julia Dixon Eddy the editor of the original Paper Clips movie, Mr. & Mrs. Amoils who donated the Torah to the Library, and Alison Lebovitz, president of the spin off project “One Clip at a Time” just to name a few.  

    People showed interest in my artwork-- some wanted to commission me to make jewelry or Judaica they will use to raise funds for their projects.  It seems like such a natural fit.  I was delighted.  I also sold a few pieces as gifts to some of the open house goers.  When I met the producer of the original Paper Clips movie and the sequel, Matthew Hiltzik, I asked about having my mezuzah somehow connected with the movie.  He said he could upload the picture and a link onto the website for the movie.

    After about two hours of getting to know each other, those of us from out of town, along with Linda Hooper boarded the “Big Yellow Bus” for the Sulpher Springs Protestant Church where we would be honored for dinner.  The church’s gym area had been converted into a dining hall.  The table cloths and chairs were white; the seating was pre-arranged. 
   
Linda Hooper and I as we board the bus for dinner & the dinner tables at the church

    There were about 160 people for dinner.  There was a small stage to the front right of the room.  We were seated near the stage at table two with the people from the Tennessee Holocaust Commission.  During dinner, which consisted of a tossed salad, rolls, sweet tea or water, a tender chicken breast, a baked potato and a large piece of sponge cake with either canned peaches or strawberries and a big dollop of Cool Whip on top for desert, Linda Hooper greeted us and began her acknowledgements for the evening.  She thanked many people, such as the architects of the school, the school board, her faculty and staff, the people in the movie, and she even thanked me for the mezuzah.  Much to my surprise, she announced to the entire room that I was pregnant!
Throughout the dinner we heard from many speakers.  One speaker told us the story of how the Torah got to Whitwell-- from the person who donated it.  Another presentation was a group from a Jewish Day School in Colorado who created a successful program to help the victims of the genocide in Darfur called “It just takes Cents.”  

    Mohamed Yahya, a refugee from Darfur spoke at length after the kids from the Jewish Day School.  He explained that he tried to get help from the greater Muslim community for 6 years to no avail.  He learned English so that he could communicate with the world about getting help.  He told us that he was taught that Americans, Jews and Christians were his enemies.  But that within one week of contacting us for help, a huge outpouring of aid came rolling in!  His experience proved that we are generous and kind people.  Not his enemies.  He was grateful.  After his speech Helene and I asked if he had heard of American Jewish World Service.  He said he had and he knows Ruth Messenger, the leader of the organization.  We explained that I made a piece for AJWS that benefits their Darfur program.  We exchanged contact information.

   
Our table with the folks from the Tennessee Holocaust Commission & Mohammed (the Darfur refugee), Aimee, “It Just takes Cents” from Colorado students, Linda Hooper

    After dinner we mingled among ourselves, took some pictures and boarded the “Big Yellow Bus” back to the high school.  Feeling thoroughly sick with a cold, but utterly happy Helene and I drove back to Chattanooga for the night.  The next morning we needed to get to school by 9:30 to set up, so we hurried back to the Hotel to get some sleep.

    The complimentary breakfast at the hotel was a treat.  Southern food always seemed to include biscuits—a food I love but never eat here in San Francisco.  I had one along with eggs, cereal, and yoghurt each morning.  I blamed the pregnancy for all the eating, but Lord knows I just like to eat!  We arrived at school with plenty of time for setting up my art and more meeting and greeting.  I waited until the last minute to find my seat in the auditorium because I wanted to see as many people before the event as possible.  As Helene and I found our seats in the reserved section we wondered whether I would actually get to speak at the Dedication Ceremony, especially since my name was not on the program and there were so many speakers and 1200 listeners.  I told Helene, that I would be okay if I didn’t speak (I felt so sick anyway) and I would have my chance to talk when we affix the mezuzah later.  We were content just to be there and watch.

    Linda Hooper kicked off the ceremony with more acknowledgements.  The choir of students at Whitwell Middle School sang the Butterfly Song.  A speaker from the Tennessee Holocaust Commission presented Linda with an award, and we learned about a program called Peace Child Israel which brings Palestinian and Israeli youth together.  One child who had been a student of the Holocaust program cried as she described all she had learned from the program.  She told everyone to appreciate and forgive their parents, as she could not bear to be torn away from them as many children of the Holocaust were.  There was not a dry eye in the audience.  Sandy Roberts spoke later about a child in the Holocaust class whose mother had breast cancer.  As the child twirled and twisted one yellow and red paper clip in her fingers she said, “What if this soul (referring to the paper clip) had found the cure to breast cancer?”  We knew the program had such a profound effect on everyone.

     As we sat and listened, I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was one of Linda Hooper’s staff members.  She whispered during the ceremony and asked me if I wanted to come up and speak.  If so, they had room for me after the next speaker.  Nervously I accepted the invitation to speak and headed to the back stage with her.   I should have known that Linda would remember.  Once back stage I collected my thoughts and breathed deeply—my heart pounded.  As Linda went to the podium to introduce me, she waved me up next to her.  I kissed her before speaking.

     
Linda introducing me, and speaking at the dedication ceremony

    I started my four minute speech with, “Gratitude is what this trip from San Francisco is about.”  As I tried to express how grateful I felt for this Holocaust program here in the South, I choked up.  I paused a few seconds and began to speak through my tears.  “My story begins with my grandparents, Arthur and Mary Kleinhandler,” I began again.  I described how they inspired me through their perseverance—surviving 6 years in and out of Concentration Camps; and how I decided to make Judaica to preserve traditions that might have been lost had Hitler been successful, not out of faith in G-d.

    I told the story of my friend emiko (yes, lower case “e”) who insisted that I watch the movie Paper Clips.  We watched it together and she sent me home to my husband David to watch it again with him.  I explained that it was David who encouraged me to write to Linda Hooper.  I realized then that I didn’t need money to do philanthropy, I had my art.  I told the silent audience that I wrote an email to Linda and included a picture of my grandparents and a little of their story.  Out of gratitude, I offered to make a mezuzah for the school and come to Whitwell to affix it, but that I did not want to do anything inappropriate since this is not a Jewish school.

    Linda responded quickly to my letter and said she would be delighted to have a mezuzah that I made—so I created the piece out of copper and sent it off to have a mold made of it.  I sent Linda the copper original and every time I sold one of the pewter replicas I sent the school’s Holocaust program a few dollars.  I invited the crowd to join us that afternoon as I affix the mezuzah on the new Library—my ultimate gift of thanks.  Finally at the end of my speech, I, on behalf of my entire family and all Holocaust families I thanked the School profusely for doing this amazing work.  As I left the stage Linda said, “You did good!”  I hugged her and went back to my seat.

    After the ceremony dozens of people approached me, hugged me and blessed me.  I felt amazing inside—so fulfilled, so happy.  There was renewed interest in my art, now that people were surer about my story.  But instead of standing by my art display I along with many in the crowd went outside to the railcar where a young hip cantor from Brazil Ray Ackerman sang El Maleh Rachamin and said Kaddish—the Hebrew prayer for the dead.  After the prayers I headed back to my table of art work and quickly sold out of all the mezuzah replicas and much of the jewelry I brought.  I took orders for more, promising to ship each piece out soon after I returned home.  The last order of business was still to come-- affixing the mezuzah.

    About one hour after Kaddish, Linda came over to my table and informed me that they had been looking for the original copper Hope mezuzah I sent her for three weeks, since they had moved schools.  They couldn’t find it anywhere!  She wondered if I had any of the pewter replicas left that we could affix in the meantime.  Unfortunately I had just sold the last one.  So, Linda borrowed one from one of my customers and ordered a replacement to be sent back to her when I return home.  I was directed to go back over to the library’s entrance with the mezuzah.  In the office, the staff prepared some special super sticky Velcro for the back of the mezuzah.  (The doorpost was metal so using nails was out of the question and screws would be a pain.)  The film crew, the 7th and 8th grade, along with Helene and dozens of ceremony goers gathered at the door of the Library.  Linda introduced me again to the group.  

    I started the mezuzah ceremony by passing around a large example of the scripture handwritten on parchment for the students to examine.  I explained that the text was the most important part of the mezuzah, not the case for it.  I shared that the text could be found in Deuteronomy and that it has special meaning--in Hebrew the prayers are called Sh’ma and Vahavta.  I explained that the Hebrew words mean that G-d is one and that we are all one, to love G-d by loving kindness, to care for the earth and everything that dwells upon it, to treat all things with truth and compassion, to teach your children and your children’s children these values, to attach these words onto the doorpost of your home, and that if you uphold the teaching there will be protection for the soul and peace and justice on earth.  I explained that when you affix a mezuzah you are setting the intentions for the space—this is sacred space, this is a safe place, this is a sanctuary!  Once it is up there, it is a constant reminder to uphold the universal teaching.
  

Affixing the mezuzah, the mezuzah is affixed, Helene and I after the ceremony

With that, I started the specific prayer that is said in Hebrew when you attach a mezuzah and the crowd repeated after me:  Baruch Ata Adonai, Elohanu Melach Ha-olam, Asher Kiddushanu Bamitzvah Tov, Vitzivanu, Leek-boa Mezuzah!  I explained that the prayer thanks G-d for commanding us to affix a mezuzah. I then thanked Whitwell, and said that this (holding up the pewter mezuzah) was my ultimate thank you, I pressed the mezuzah with the sticky Velcro on the back into the front right side of the doorpost with the top of the mezuzah angling towards the inside of the room.  The deed was done, I kissed the mezuzah and entered the room with my right foot first

    After more pictures and hugs and sad goodbyes Helene and I packed up and headed back to Chattanooga for the remainder of the evening.  Before heading out we stopped in the office to say our final goodbye to Linda.  I hugged her and told her that I loved her.  She said she loved me too, and that we should come back soon, next time with the baby in our arms.  Our hearts were absolutely filled with gratitude.  We learned so much.  We learned that children are powerful; we learned that a small group can change the world; we learned that there is love in the most unexpected places; we learned that we belong among the good souls in Whitwell Tennessee.

Great News!

My great Uncle Moshke (my grandpa Arthur's Brother) passed away last night in Israel.  He was 91. 

I am sending love and condolences to all my family especially those in Israel and to Varda and Ofer Cohen here in the US. 


Here's a picture I took of Moshke in his workshop in Israel when I was there in 1989.  RIP Moshke.

Love,
Aimee

Here is a brand new custom wedding ring that my husband  David Casella and I partnered on:


We made these over the summer.....



"Aimee and David did a masterful job with our wedding rings. We wanted something truly special in recognition of how we have woven our lives together. These rings are both unique and priceless, and we will cherish them."  Shifrah



Here's a sweet bridal wedding ring set I created from my Chic-let line of Jewlery:

Dear Friends,

    I had a dream last night that I was being trained to hand scribe my first kosher mezuzah scroll in Hebrew and it was dedicated to the memory of my grandpa Arthur Kleinhandler.  I woke up thinking about him-- realizing that the 2 year anniversary of his death is approaching-- July 29th, so I have decided to write.  

    My grandfather (my mother's father) was a kind and gentle soul, generous and honest to a fault.  Although he did not teach me how to work with metal, being a tool and die maker himself, he passed on his tools to me-- and better yet his values.  He always said "try to make it perfect, just try....."  I think of him a lot in the studio, his sound words of advice ringing in my ears as I hold his hand tools.  When I feel his presence with me in the studio he always seems pleased to be with me working in the shop.  Here is his picture and the obituary that was published shortly after his death.  I have also added in the eulogy my Dad wrote to honor his memory.....  RIP grandpa -- I MISS YOU!


June 9, 1913-July 29, 2006

ARTHUR KLEINHANDLER. 93.  Holocaust Survivor born in Chmielnik, Poland on June 9, 1913. Master tool and die maker. Died peacefully on July 29, 2006 in Los Angeles.  Beloved husband of 64 years to Mary Kleinhandler, devoted father of Henriette Kleinhandler and Susan (Mitch) Golant, loving grandfather of Cherie Golant (Ron Gutierrez) and Aimee Golant (David Casella) and proud Papa of Julia (z’il) and Rose Golant Gutierrez.  Also survived by brother Moishe Kleinhandler and sister Bluma Gozdzinski in Israel. May his integrity and strength be an example to all of us.  Donations may be made in his memory to The “1939” Club, Inc. 8950 W. Olympic Blvd., #437, Beverly Hills, CA 90211.  Funeral services on August 2, 2006 at 11 AM.  Hillside Cemetery, 6001 Centinela Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90045.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
For Arthur Kleinhandler (By: Mitch Golant)

August 2, 2006

     Arthur Kleinhandler and I were friends. This is a memorial of visibility and invisibility—the seen and the unseen.  When does a person become truly visible to you and how does that happen and when do machatunim (in laws) become friends and when do friends become perhaps something more.

     So I want to talk about the period of time when these aspects of our relationship changed. I remember the moment of illumination.  It occurred at his 91st birthday party we were at the Bel Air Hotel.  Why his 91st birthday and not his 90th Birthday? Well, context is everything.  In June, 2003 Arthur was 90 years old.  Between Spring, 2003 and Summer 2004 so much had changed…we as a family had experienced loss—Julia our first grandchild had died in utero at 35 weeks, two of my best friends Alan Barry and Alan Gross had died, I survived unscathed a near-head on collision and by the end of 2004 my mentor and friend, Harold Benjamin, The founder of The Wellness Community had died.


     At first, it was the little things. At Arthur’s 91st birthday I notice that none of his clothes fit.  His shirt is too big, his pants are hanging on him, and his belt had multiple notches well past the manufacturers design—the belt strap hung like an exhausted tongue down his thigh.  I put my arm around Arthur and say My God Arthur You’re Shrinking. I tease that pretty soon his going to be this big.  He giggles. I say to him, I’m going to take you shopping.  You see the thing is that it wasn’t the taking him shopping that mattered. It was for the first time that I saw him.  He mattered to me and that I wanted to care for him.  He was no longer invisible to me. A week later we picked up the outfits—one a black with grey pin stripe cashmere and wool suit that I teased Arthur—Who are you marrying? A younger woman? He says, Of course!  So we rush home and he can’t wait to try on the suit and show it to Mary. I help him dress and we walk down the hallway to the dining room and kitchen…and as we walk he is humming “Here Comes Bride” and I am whistling.  He turns the corner and sees Mary for the first time and says How do I look? She says Gorgeous! They turn red, pause, hug and kiss each other on the lips. I love you she says. Who are you going to marry a younger woman? We all laugh.


     Next I took to calling him Sir Arthur. Just like that.  The first time I did this was in Junior’s Deli…I had taken him for a haircut with Angela in Brentwood and we needed to get lunch.  We’re in Junior’s and I say to the waiter a cheery college student.  This is Arthur…but I call him Sir Arthur because he’s nearly 92 years old and he’s a Holocaust survivor and he’s the most noble and honorable person I have ever known.  Now these words just come out of me.  I don’t think them.  So I explain Arthur’s story and how nearly everyone in his family survived, He shakes Sir Arthur’s hand.  He serves us with great dignity. Now, I find myself cutting Arthur’s food which, when together, I did from then on.  And Arthur says to me in an aside, Why did you say all that, and I say, I want the world to know who you are and how important you are to me.  He says, But why did you say that I’m almost 92?  Well, I say, I wasn’t saying that for him. I was saying that for you.  I want you to think about living another year especially because there is so much to live for since Cherie is pregnant and who knows maybe Aimee will get married to David.  He says to me, Hmmm…that’s pretty smart. We giggle.  You see we had an easy way with each other.


         Each month I would go to pick him for a haircut. The first thing I would say. “Geez Arthur your getting old.”  Without a beat, he would reply, What do you mean getting?  I say You have a point.  We would giggle. 
 Another little exchange we would have was the challenge of getting in and out of the car.  Part of our outings together was that I would pick him up in the Porsche and he would tell me the story of his riding a motorcycle and the fantastic Mercedes he drove in Germany.  But he also liked the Porsche because it was easy for him to get in and out and he could actually look over the sleek hood.  So, when he would get out of the car we would count to three and as he was making an effort to get up he would say Hey Shoop.  Our exchange was that I would say Are You Standing? He would look around at the sky, at the trees check out his feet and say I am standing…then we would walk to wherever we were going. 

         Now these are micro-moments but you have to understand what this all meant to me. We were friends…I could tease him and we could play together.  For this person of exquisite integrity and dignity to relate to me in such an easy way was the imprimatur of trust.
 
    You see something else was happening…when we were in the Porsche together he would tell me stories…some of which you’ve heard from Rabbi Mischeggia, and Henriette…but sometimes they would have a profound element. Mitch…you know I didn’t sleep very well last night. Arthur, I say, What happened? I had a dream. What was the dream? I was being chased by the Germans again.  Arthur why do you think you had that dream?…I don’t know…I say (ever the psychologist)…did anything happen yesterday or the day before to trigger the dream.  He would think….you know I’m worried about Mary…she had an episode with her diabetes and I couldn’t help her.  I always tried to help her…even when the German’s tried to hurt her I would step in front and take the blows. When there was food I always gave her the bigger piece. Now he is crying.  I’m not able to help her anymore in the same way.  Well…you’ve got me I say.  He says, Thank God.  He reaches out and touches my hand.   We sit in silence until we arrive at our destination.  This became our ritual.  You know Mitch in order to save our father during the forced march at the end of the war…Moshka and I carried our father between us because his feet were bleeding and we didn’t want the German’s to see that he couldn’t walk. I ask, How long did you do this? He says, Six weeks. We sit in silence the rest of the way. 
 
    The last story occurs on his 93rd birthday dinner. Just six weeks ago.  We are at La Cachette.  It is Mary, Henriette, Susie, Aimee and me.  We notice that he is teetering on his cane struggling to navigate to the table. He looks exhausted. It had been a difficult day. He had lost his balance while trying to tighten his belt and fallen. He wasn’t injured but badly shaken.  We’re all sitting at the table and the first thing he says to everyone.  I want to bestow my fatherly love on all of you and I am grateful for all of you being here to celebrate.  We are animated and honored that he is blessing us.  He stops us by saying…and I am not finished…there is silence…and I want to thank Mitch for treating me like my father.  Aimee, Susie and Henriette try to correct him…oh you mean Mitch treated you like his own father…but I understand what he means.  What he means is that I was treating him like he treated his father.  I had carried him like he had carried his father. 

     I don’t say this to anyone because I am crying.