Meeting Alexander Imich, 111-years-old
An SA Jewish Report writer-user in the US sent this incredible story of Alexander Imich, pictured, the oldest man in America., of how Chabad of Coney Island’s Rabbi’s mitzvah, and of the incredible stories that Imich, a scientist last published when he was 92, was able to tell them of experiencing the invention of electricity, cars, phones… But what Imich set out to prove scientifically, was much more than that
Every week more and more recipients of the SAJR Online
newsletter submit amazing stories to share with our community of readers. Last
week Beth Sarafraz sent this: “I’m writing to offer you my story, ‘Meeting
Alexander Imich, 111-Years Old,’ published 2/28/2014 in The Jewish Press, for
reprinting in South African Jewish Report. The story (and link) are copied
below, as well as the update. You are more than welcome to reprint the story,
as long as you give credit to THE
JEWISH PRESS for original printing. Thank you, Be Well.”
Story and picture by: Beth Sarafraz
Rabbi Pinny Marozov, director of Chabad of Coney Island,
wanted to do a mitzvah. So when he found out there was a Jewish man living on
his own on the Upper West Side of Manhattan – a Jewish man who was about to
turn 111 years old – he decided to pay a visit.
The problem was that Alexander Imich, who has been
officially verified as the oldest man in America, second oldest in the world
(he was even congratulated by the New York State Senate upon his 110th birthday),
was not at home. Imich, who had taken a fall in his apartment and was not found
until the next day when a volunteer came to check on him, was in Roosevelt
Hospital in Manhattan. Rabbi Marozov, undeterred, visited him there and helped
him put on tefillin to pray. The rabbi planned a home visit to hang up a
mezuzah in Imich’s apartment, and agreed to bring me along.
Imich was born in 1903 in Poland, where he later earned
his Ph.D. in 1927, despite the best efforts of anti-Semitic professors to
sabotage his thesis. He embarked upon a journey that led him through two world
wars, the Holocaust, two years in a Russian labor camp near the White Sea, and
finally a new life in America in 1952 (with his wife, Wela, who passed away in
Published a book at 92
He worked as a chemist and respected scientist,
ultimately trying to prove to other mainstream scientists that the neshama
(soul) survives physical death, editing and publishing a book, Incredible Tales
of the Paranormal, (in 1995, at the age of 92), expounding on this theme and
earning high praise from Uri Geller, the celebrated illusionist, as “the most
fascinating and unusual book I have ever read in this field https://www.sajr.co.za/images/default-source/People/single/imich-alexander.jpg” />He suffered financial devastation after losing his life
savings in the stock market, and then the loneliness of one who has no
children, who has outlived all his peers and most family members, most of whom
perished in Nazi concentration camps. His grandniece, Karen Bogen, on his
wife’s side of the family says that Imich does have some living, blood
relatives: “He has a nephew, Jan Imich, who has children and grandchildren. A
few weeks ago, Jan visited with his son and grandson, so we had four
generations together. Jan and his extended family live in England.”
Alexander Imich’s 111th birthday took place on 4 February,
while he was in Roosevelt Hospital. A few days later, he returned home to the
same apartment he and Wela had rented in 1965 – weak, with failing eyesight due
to macular degeneration and practically deaf – as the hospital had lost both of
his hearing aids.
Imich was reportedly in a state of despair, no longer
being able to hear and communicate with others, expressing something he had
never said in all his 111 years – that he wanted to die, already. And then he
Nevertheless, we planned a bikur cholim visit to Imich.
At the time, we had no idea that Bogen, who lives in Rhode Island, was working
on getting the hospital to make good on the lost hearing aids and getting an
audiology team from Mt. Sinai Hospital to fit him for new ones.
Before visiting, I called the house expecting a volunteer
to answer the phone and confirm that it was okay for Imich to have visitors.
Instead, Imich himself answered: “Hello? Hello? I’m all alone here. Is anybody
coming to be with me?”
We almost cried with joy
He couldn’t hear anything I said in reply. This was so
alarming that I telephoned one of the regular volunteers, who told me that
there was a two-hour gap between when the morning volunteer leaves and the
afternoon volunteer arrives.
A Self Help organization volunteer was there by the time
Rabbi Mazorov and I arrived at the Esplanade apartment house. After being told
that Imich was so distraught he had stopped eating altogether, we almost cried
to see him happily munching on one of the huge freshly baked black and white
kosher cookies we brought him.
Imich, who is reportedly “not religious,” seemed to light
up even further when Rabbi Marozov helped him put on tefillin and then affixed
a mezuzah to his doorpost. We were surprised and touched to the core when
Imich, in a strong clear voice, recited the Shema prayer, which he apparently
knew by heart.
“Look at this,” said the rabbi. “This is bringing up a
spark from deep inside him. He’s coming back to life.”
We’d been told that Imich, after talking about not
wanting to live anymore, had stopped talking, sat in his chair and closed his
eyes in despair. What had changed? Did we dare to think it was our emergency
bikur cholim visit, the cookies, tefillin and mezuzah?
Taking his picture
He let us take many photographs. “People are always
taking my picture, but they never send them to me.” We assured him we would be back
with copies of the photos taken.
“He is scheduled to get fitted for new hearing aids
tomorrow,” the volunteer told us. The completed appliances will take some time
to be delivered, she said; maybe two weeks. We had to shout and repeat
ourselves in order for Imich to hear us, but communication was possible.
He asked me, “Do you know that I am the oldest man in the
United States and the second oldest in the world?” I told him yes. And again,
I asked him if he had a bar mitzvah. A what? “Bar
We originally thought when the rabbi visited him in the
hospital and helped him to put on tefillin, that it was a first in his life
experience – in essence, a bar mitzvah. We were mistaken. Imich remembered his
bar mitzvah in one of the synagogues in Czestochowa, Poland, where he was born
and grew up, but unfortunately, he said, all the photos and documentation were
lost. When the Nazis marched into Poland, the entire Jewish world was lost.
Imich and his wife Wela survived because they were deported to a Russian labor
camp instead of Auschwitz.
I told him my father’s mother came from Czestochowa, but
she referred to it as Chenstokhov. “That’s right,” he said, “Chenstokhov.”
Though attentive, interested and clearly wanting to
engage with us, Imich was straining to hear and each short exchange had to be
repeated slowly and loudly several times. With twinkling eyes, he pointed out,
“You imagine that I can converse with you like a normal person?” – a reference
to his near, but not total deafness.
I answered that I didn’t know what was normal, but I
would like to come back and visit again. “Can I come see you again?” He smiled
slightly and said yes “but bring the pictures!
What he has witnessed
We rose to leave and the rabbi said, “Good Shabbos!”
which was answered in kind, with an explanation. “I don’t know Yiddish,” he
said, “but I remember from my parents.” The memory breaking through was nearly
100 years old.
I looked back at the cluttered apartment – the walls
completely covered with his late wife’s paintings, the bookshelf with a copy of
Tales of the Paranormal, edited by Alexander Imich, Ph.D., the “Do Not
Resuscitate” letter hanging on the wall outside the kitchen, cards
commemorating his recent February 4 birthday, two computers that haven’t been
used in a year due to Imich’s failing eyesight and no television set anywhere
An 111-year-old blue-eyed man with paper thin skin
stretched tight across his bones sits on a recliner, his legs wrapped in a
blanket, facing a clock hanging on the wall, nestled there between the
paintings. It reminded me of the lyrics in the Jacques Brel song from a long
time ago, about old folks and their clocks: “It tick tocks oh so slow. It says
yes, it says no. It says ‘I’ll wait for you.’ The old, old silver clock that’s
hanging on the wall that waits for us all.”
In a speech he gave at the age of 99, Imich said: “In my
life, I have witnessed the development of flight, the automobile,
electrification of nations, the telephone, the radio and television, atomic
energy, the wonders of bioscientific medicine, computer technology, great
advances in our knowledge of the cosmos, men walking on the moon – the list
could go on and on.”
However, on answering the question (to the
satisfaction of modern scientists) on whether consciousness survives the death
of the physical body, he says, in his book, “Imagine for a moment how much
human life would change if this question were answered in the positive, how
much easier it would be to live through the pain and misery of our existence on
this planet, if we were sure these were only temporary ills.”
Libya’s destroyed Jewish graveyards being rebuilt online
(JTA) During a visit to his native Libya in 2002, David Gerbi saw something that he says still haunts him almost 20 years later.
“I was horrified to see children playing atop the ruins of the Tripoli Jewish cemetery, scampering about debris littered with human remains,” Gerbi, who left Libya many years ago for Italy, told the Behdrei Haredim news site in Israel last week.
The experience turned Gerbi into an advocate for what are known as heritage sites in his old community. But over the years, his efforts to preserve or restore communal Jewish sites in war-torn Libya, where no Jews remain, came to naught.
So Gerbi began to consider alternatives. And now, the psychologist who lives in Rome has announced a new effort to set up a virtual cemetery to replace each of the physical Jewish ones that have been devastated in his country of birth.
“Especially in Tripoli and Benghazi, the Jewish cemeteries were obliterated,” he told the news site. “So I decided to make a virtual cemetery for our loved ones buried in Libya.”
The virtual cemeteries will have sections for prominent rabbis and commemorative pages for victims of the Holocaust – hundreds of Libyan Jews died in concentration camps operated by Nazi-allied Italy – as well as other pages recalling the victims of three waves of pogroms, in 1945, 1948, and 1967, he said.
Users of the website will be able to light memorial candles virtually and dedicate Kaddish mourning prayers through the website interface. “It will be a way to remember the dead of a community gone extinct,” Gerbi said.
The initiative is a collaboration with ANU – The Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv, which seeks to document the experiences of Jews around the globe and over time. Together, they’re asking people with information about Jews buried in Libya to reach out.
Their effort is in line with other initiatives that aim to rebuild extinct Jewish communities online because their former homes are so inhospitable to restoration efforts, such as Diarna, a massive website that allows users to explore the cities in North Africa and the Middle East where Jews used to live.
Gerbi’s effort is narrower, focusing exclusively on the cemeteries of Libya, where, during World War II, 40 000 Jews lived in communities with a centuries-long history.
The Holocaust and the antisemitic policies of the independent Libyan government that followed, as well as hostility toward Jews by the local population, drove all of them out. By 2004, Libya didn’t have a single Jew residing in it, according to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum.
Gerbi’s family was part of that migration. They fled Libya in 1967 when he was 12 years old, making them among the last Jews to leave the country. By 1969, the country had only 100 Jews.
The decades that followed, under the iron-fisted rule of dictator Muammar el-Qaddafi, offered few opportunities for preservation. But the central government collapsed after he was overthrown and executed in 2011, and the last decade has been marked by intermittent fighting among clans and militias with competing claims to leadership.
While those conditions have been harsh for Libyans, Gerbi said he hopes the shake-up could eventually give rise to a government that would be willing to address the country’s Jewish history and possibly normalise relations with Israel, as other Arab nations in the region have done in the past year. But he knows that could take many years, and he has essentially given up hope of having officials facilitate physical restoration work in the near future, Gerbi told Behadrei Haredim.
The situation of those sites was poor even before Libya erupted into civil war, he said.
It’s been 19 years since his visit to Tripoli’s Jewish cemetery, but “the gruesome sights and chilling images I saw won’t let go of me”, he said. In 2007, Gerbi visited the site again, “and I was shocked to discover that even the debris had been cleared out. They built a highway on the ruins of the Jewish cemetery and high-rise buildings. There’s isn’t a shred left.”
In Benghazi, Gerbi saw a warehouse full of boxes with human remains stuffed into them haphazardly. They had been collected from another Jewish cemetery before it was destroyed, he said.
Old synagogues are also at risk, said Gerbi, a prominent member of the World Organisation of the Jews of Libya, which promotes the interests of people whose families have roots in Libya.
Earlier this year, he told Italian media that an abandoned and ancient synagogue in Tripoli is being turned into an Islamic religious centre without permission.
“The Sla Dar Bishi in Tripoli is in the hands of the local authorities [read: militias] since there is now no Jew living in Tripoli,” he told Moked, the Italian Jewish news site.
“It was decided to violate our property and our history,” he wrote. “The plan clearly is to take advantage of the chaos and our absence.”
Accusations of antisemitism absurd, say Ben & Jerry’s founders
(JTA) In an interview that aired on HBO, both of the founders of the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream brand reiterated that they stood behind the company’s decision to stop selling their products in the West Bank.
But for Jerry Greenfield, being accused of antisemitism is “painful”. For Ben Cohen, it’s “absurd”.
“Ben & Jerry’s and Unilever are being characterised as boycotting Israel, which isn’t the case at all. It’s not boycotting Israel in any way,” Greenfield said in an interview with Axios that aired on its HBO show on 10 October.
The Jewish duo, who founded the company in 1978, are no longer its owners, but they remain the most recognisable public faces of the company. They had previously defended the West Bank decision in a New York Times op-ed shortly after the move took place in July, but the Axios interview gave them a chance to expound on the human side of the aftermath.
“It’s a very emotional issue for a lot of people and I totally understand it. It’s a painful issue for a lot of people,” Greenfield said.
They were also asked how it felt to be “wrapped up in accusations of antisemitism”.
“Totally fine,” Cohen said, laughing. “It’s absurd. What, I’m anti-Jewish? I’m a Jew! All my family is Jewish, my friends are Jewish.”
Ben & Jerry’s had long been engaged in social issues when it decided to pull its product from the West Bank after months of pressure from pro-Palestinian activists in the wake of Israel’s latest armed conflict with Gaza. The decision prompted calls to boycott Ben & Jerry’s and its parent company, Unilever, along with accusations of antisemitism from some pro-Israel activists. The state of Arizona divested nearly $200 million (R2.9 billion) from Unilever in September, and several other states have since reviewed their investments in the conglomerate.
Unilever has also said in public statements that it doesn’t believe Ben & Jerry’s is boycotting the state of Israel, and that it plans to keep selling within the borders Israel established after the Six-Day War in 1967. However, Israeli law outlaws business that boycotts the West Bank, so it remains to be seen whether the company will be allowed to follow through with its plan.
When asked why Ben & Jerry’s continued to sell its ice cream in states with policies that aren’t in line with Cohen and Greenfield’s values – such as Texas, where access to abortion is now limited, and Georgia, where voting rights have been curtailed. Cohen didn’t have an answer.
“I don’t know. I mean it’s an interesting question, I don’t know what that would accomplish, we’re working on those issues of voting rights and … I don’t know. I think you ask a really good question, and I think I’d have to sit down and think about it for a bit,” Cohen said.
Greenfield suggested that the answer had to do with international law.
“One thing that’s different is that what Israel is doing is considered illegal by international law, so I think that’s a consideration,” Greenfield said.
Jewish Zambian freedom fighter laid to rest in state funeral
It’s not often that one finds a Jewish freedom-fighting 96-year-old in Zambia, but Simon Zukas was one such man. Born in Lithuania and profoundly influenced by the events of the Holocaust, he played a pivotal role in bringing democracy to Zambia. He passed away on 27 September, and was laid to rest in an official state funeral on Tuesday, 5 October.
“Simon was profoundly influenced not just by the moral-ethical teachings of Judaism, but by the historical experience of the Jewish people with whom he never ceased to identify,” said African Jewish Congress (AJC) spiritual leader Rabbi Moshe Silberhaft in his eulogy. “In large part, his abhorrence of injustice, particularly when based on race, was informed by the tragic fate of the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe including his own home-town during the Holocaust.” Silberhaft was flown out by the Zambian government to officiate the funeral.
Describing Zukas as “a devoted patriot, freedom fighter, and heroic pioneer of the nation of Zambia”, Silberhaft said that he was born Shimon Ber Zukas “in a small Lithuanian town in 1925, and had just entered his teens when he arrived in what was then Northern Rhodesia just before the outbreak of World War II. For the rest of his long and productive life, he would devote himself to furthering the well-being of his adopted country.”
He landed up in the British colony of Northern Rhodesia because it didn’t have quotas limiting Jewish settlers, unlike South Africa and Southern Rhodesia, later Zimbabwe.
Zukas studied civil engineering at the University of Cape Town, and got involved in student politics. He later joined the struggle for Zambian independence, and was eventually deported to the United Kingdom.
“He was declared a ‘danger to peace and good order’, and, after a fruitless appeal to the high court and eight months in jail in Livingstone, he was deported to England, a country he had previously neither visited nor lived in,” wrote Sishuwa Sishuwa in the Lusaka Times. “Though constituting a risk to his own life, his decision to confront those who perpetuated injustice and become an active participant in the struggle for independence was a statement of his commitment to equality.”
But in 1965, following statehood, new Zambian President Kenneth Kaunda invited him to return. By now a qualified engineer running a successful consultancy in England, Zukas said he moved back to offer his professional expertise to major infrastructure projects. A career in politics also followed: his efforts to persuade Kaunda and his United National Independence Party to abandon a one-party state failed and, in 1990, he broke ranks and joined the drive towards multiparty politics, playing a leading role in its subsequent return. He was most recently leader of the Forum for Democracy and Development, an opposition political party. He retired from politics in 2005.
Alongside his political and engineering endeavours, Zukas was committed to his Jewish identity. He was chairperson of the Council for Zambian Jewry, and vice-president of the AJC.
AJC President Ann Harris wrote to Zambian President Hakainde Hichilema on Zukas’s passing, describing how the AJC “represented the interests of all the Jewish communities in the countries of sub-Saharan Africa of which Zambia is a proud leader. Simon Zukas was an active member of our organisation. His pride in his nation of Zambia and the excellence and fortitude with which he served his country in many different public spheres created a glow of honour which reflected on our congress.”
Calling Zukas a “father figure”, she wrote that “he had the strength and loyalty to be at one and the same time the proudest of Zambians and an outspoken example of his Jewish identity. To us, the loss is immeasurable, and we are quite sure that all of Zambia feels the same.” She wished the president and the people of Zambia “long life” on his passing.
Writer Cynthia Hartley described in her blog how she found herself “crying hopelessly at the news of his death. We met through mutual friends in Zambia as well as work, engineering, politics, and art. Mike, my husband, was Jewish, and that was an important initial connection. Neither Mike nor Simon were observant Jews, but both cared deeply about the Jewish community and its continuity.
“There are excellent obituaries of Simon Zukas but not all explain how extraordinary his moral principles were, given the universal background of racism he faced,” she wrote. She advised reading his autobiography, Into Exile and Back.
Alongside Zukas every step of the way was his loving wife, Cynthia (nee Robinson). Together, they had two sons. A painter by profession, she was awarded an Order of the British Empire in 2012, “for promoting visual arts in Zambia and for creating a historical archive of Zambian art”.
In his eulogy, Silberhaft described her as a “true partner” in her husband’s life’s work, and “an outstanding citizen in her own right”. Hartley said that “they were an extraordinary couple in their support for and understanding of each other. It was a relationship I have long envied.”
Silberhaft said, “Regardless of his foreign birth and the fact that he wasn’t just white but a member of a small religious minority, Simon Zukas was a Zambian to the core, and so was he regarded by his fellow citizens, regardless of race of creed.
“As spiritual leader to the AJC, I was privileged to have had many opportunities of meeting and working with him, and can attest to how strongly the teachings of his Jewish heritage underpinned his approach to everything that he did,” he said. “I’m bidding farewell not only to a member of my own far-flung African congregation, but also to a true colleague and friend. May the memory of Shimon Ber Zukas be a blessing, and may the example he set be a source of inspiration for all the generations to come.”
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