Geoff Nathan's Eulogy to Sidney Nathan

Sidney Nathan, my dad, was born in Leeds on May 18, 1920 to Louis and Marea Nathan. Louis’ father had come from Cnyszyn, Poland in the late part of the nineteenth century, landing in Edinburgh and eventually ending up in Leeds. Louis was a furrier, and Marea a music teacher, and, in the progressive nineteen twenties and thirties they sent Dad to Leeds Grammar School, a prestigious private school, where he and a couple of other Jewish kids were highly visible minorities. Since they had compulsory chapel every morning, after which there were announcements, everyone was expected to attend. However, because this was an enlightened school, Jewish kids were allowed to wait outside during the Anglican service. At the end of the service the Headmaster called out ‘send in the Jews’ and they duly marched down the aisle for the announcements.

Dad had three siblings, a sister, Sheila, who lives in Brighton, and two brothers, both of whom had Downs syndrome and died in their teens.

After grammar school dad went to Leeds University where he studied medicine, graduating in 1943 and joining the Royal Air Force where he served as a flight surgeon, retiring at the rank of Squadron Leader.

After the war he met Joan Shapero through her brother, Gerald, a friend of Sheila’s then boyfriend, now husband, Arthur. They were married in 1948 and he began practicing medicine in Brighton in partnership with Arthur. Sheila and Arthur are still living in Brighton, but, sadly, are not able to be here today.

In 1951 they decided they had had enough of the famed National Health Service, a system that was even worse then than it is now, and, along with their two-year-old son, your obedient servant, moved to Toronto.

Here Dad set up an office in what was then the wild, wild North, at Dufferin and Wilson. Mom acted as office assistant and occasional nurse. In 1953 my brother, Alan, was born.

In 1959 he entered a partnership with Sid Shubert in Weston, and in 1961 we moved to Hillhurst Avenue. He continued practicing there until seven or eight years ago, when his partner retired, and he moved to a practice on north Bathurst St. Amazingly, after that practice closed he joined a walk-in clinic and continued there till just under two years ago!

In the early and mid sixties Dad was very politically active in the medical community, eventually becoming the first Jewish president of the Ontario Medical Society. Due to his efforts, early government-based medicine in Ontario was not as badly-designed as it had been in England.

Dad was someone who always knew stuff, and how to do stuff. And, at least until the past few years he was someone who seemed to be the strongest person I knew. We talked politics, philosophy and travel, often endlessly.

As their lives became more solid, Dad and Mom began to be able to travel, taking trips first to England (my mother had a morbid fear of flying for many years and was unable to visit her family until they could afford to take an ocean liner), then later, when she overcame her fear, to the West Indies, across country (with my brother and me we drove to LA, San Francisco and back one year) and then later to more exotic places such as Africa.

A memory that just returned was of the pool table that we had in the basement. Turns out Dad was a mean pool player—he used to say ‘wages of a misspent youth’. He also said, as he put the ball in the pocket, ‘it’s just geometry’.

In 1971 I moved away to Hawaii to pursue graduate studies, and Alan, who never did well in school dropped out and got a job as a junior executive in a business down town.

In 1976 Alan had a medical emergency that very nearly killed him, and left him permanently attached to intravenous tubes. He experienced frequent additional crises that had Dad and Mom traveling daily back and forth from Hillhurst to the Toronto General, a horrible routine that later caused my Mom to be unable to drive on University Avenue.

In 1978 Alan died (I was still living in Hawaii, but had rushed back a few days earlier). After a heartbreaking funeral, held right here where I am standing, they began to put their lives back together. However, less than a year later Mom had a severe heart attack, and Dad was again making the regular commute down to the General. After her recovery they began a normal life, listening to TSO concerts, attending the Opera, travelling, and, occasionally visiting us—I had moved from Hawaii to Carbondale, Illinois, where I met Maggie. We got married in 1984 in our own living room, with Mom and Dad attending.

But in 1985 I got the dreaded phone call that Mom had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and, although they treated it aggressively, by December 1985 she was gone. Again we stood here while Dow Marmor officiated at her funeral.

After about a year Dad began dating Ruth Lipson, whom he had known socially through their next-door neighbors, and on May 18, 1987 they got married, here at Holy Blossom with Rabbi Marmor officiating.

The next 25 years or so were a wonderful time for Dad as he and Ruth shared a full life together, going to concerts, art galleries, cruises, and enjoying time with friends. Margaret and I had moved to Detroit in 2002, so we were able to make much easier and less stressful visits to Toronto and share some of their life here.

The result of this marriage was the birth of a new, extended family that I’ve been delighted to be a part of. Not only have I gained a stepmother, I’ve gained stepbrothers, step-sisters-in-law, and step-nephews and nieces, all of whom have welcomed Maggie and me into their midst. The occasion I remember the best was the incredible trip to Israel two years ago. I should say that the family has extended to include Maggie’s sister Eleanor and her husband Leendert, both of whom flew in yesterday from New York to be with us today. But I’m going to let Tim talk more about the recent past, which I’ve glossed over, and more about our enormous and warm family.

I want to close by saying that my Dad was an amazing man--his knowledge of music was extensive. He could identify an incredible number of symphonies after a few bars. He was a terrific family doctor. He had generations of patients, some of whom may well be with us today--in some cases they are the grandchildren of patients whom he saw on Wilson Avenue. Even in his late eighties he remained current on medical issues--not so much that he knew the latest in nuclear or molecular medicine, but that he knew what were the current therapies for whatever came along, and who to refer people to when something required specialist help.

He was a pioneer in many ways--homesteading at Wilson and Dufferin before the 401 (as a very young boy I remember watching it being built), breaking the religion barrier at Leeds Grammar School and the OMA. He touched thousands of lives and he is already missed.

Zichrono levracha.

זִיכְרוֹנוֹ לִבְרַכָה

Tim Lipson's Eulogy

Eulogy for Sid

Each one of us in this sanctuary who knew Sidney Nathan shares something special in common. We all adored him.

And we adored Sid because by any measure, he was a true mensch.

This one little Yiddish noun says everything one needs to know about Sid.

Various dictionaries, not to mention Wikipedia, define the word “mensch” to mean “a good, kind, decent and honourable person;”

“ a person of integrity and honour”,

“a particularly good person”,

a “stand-up guy”,

“the salt of the earth”,

“someone who would give the shirt off his back”,

“a person with the qualities one would hope for in a dear friend or trusted colleague.”

In his book The Joys of Yiddish, Leo Rosten defined a mensch as someone to admire and emulate, someone of noble character. He wrote that the key to being a real mensch is nothing less than possessing character, rectitude, dignity and a sense of what is right and responsible.

This little Yiddish word and all of those definitions describe Sid to a “T”.

You all know about Sid’s distinguished medical career. He was the quintessential family doctor. Imagine how many hundreds, if not thousands of people, he treated in his 60 years of practice.

I cannot do better than quote from a tribute to Sid written by a former patient published on the Benjamin’s website:

“I was a patient of Dr. Nathan’s when he was a partner with Dr. Shubert on Jane Street and before when he had an office in that little house on Wilson Avenue. That was 50 years ago! He was a fabulous doctor with a great demeanour and very professional in his approach to medicine. Sid played a key role in my growth as a young man and was a great friend of my family.”

I believe that Sid’s success as a physician can be attributed to not only his professional skills but, just as importantly, to the patience and respect that he had for each and every one of his patients.

In his private life, Sid had various interests which he keenly pursued —He was a very good bridge player. Sid was also a master at cryptic cross-word puzzles. I recently learned that cryptic cross-word puzzles are more challenging that regular ones.

He had a fascination with gadgets. Sid was a devoted subscriber to Consumer Reports and always kept up to date with the latest in electronics, household appliances and cars.

Before Sid married my mother, my family was not particularly observant. After Sid arrived on the scene, wonderful Shabbat meals became an important part of family life. We all enjoyed Friday night dinners with my mom and Sid. Sid always sang the hamotzi with great gusto.

From the beginning Sid naturally assumed the role of family patriarch, especially at the Passover seders which he would he would lead. He would assign each member of the family a portion of the Hagadah to read. We never knew what are our assignments were going to be so it was important to pay attention.

The highlight of the Seder was always Sid’s rendition of the ten plagues—Sid would bring out this bag of props to demonstrate the ten plagues that God visited upon the Egyptians—he had these rubber figurines from Toys r Us as well as various sound devices to symbolize the various plagues such as wild beasts, locusts frogs, hail and boils. The tenth plague is the death of the first born. Sid demonstrated this plague by waving this cheap plastic knife around in the air. But everyone’s favourite was Sid’s rendition of the plague of darkness. Sid had this big rubber eyeball with veins it and he would move a black piece of cardboard over and over this eyeball.

Just before Pesach last year, Sid had been discharged from the St. John’s rehabilitation facility. He had every reason to forgo his usual Seder leadership role. He was having a lot of trouble getting around and was in considerable discomfort. But of course Sid would never consider missing such an occasion. And he was never a complainer. So Sid came to our home and led the Seder in his usual fine style.

When Sid married my mother in May 1987 he became an instant grandfather to David, Claire and John. Four more wonderful grandchildren would follow-Jamie, Adrienne, Rachel and Nicholas. And Sid was a natural as grandfather. He was known to my kids as Dr. Sid and to the other grandchildren as “Zeddy”. Sid had a special nurturing relationship with each one of them. One of my fondest memories is of how he and the grandchildren had such a great time together on our family trip to Israel in 2008.

I would like to say a few words about my relationship with Sid.

He was my step-father but we were also close friends. From the beginning, I enjoyed spending time with Sid. He always had time to chat and I knew that he was as genuinely interested in my welfare as I was in his. Now, Sid was not the kind of person who offered unsolicited advice. That was a measure of his quiet dignity and modesty. But whenever I did ask for his opinion, I could always count on receiving his considered and wise counsel. Sid possessed an abundance of sound judgment and common sense.

In my career as a defence lawyer, I was involved in many cases with complicated medical evidence and issues. Often I would consult Sid to explain the meaning of various medical terms found in reports and hospital charts. He made the unravelled the mysteries of anatomy and pathology in such an understandable way. Typically I would bring a file over to the house. I would lay out the photographs of the crime scene and exhibits on the dining room table. I would show him the witness statements. I had so many questions that he patiently answered. Many of those questions were really dumb but he never said so. Some of my better cross-examinations of medical experts were due to Sid’s invaluable assistance. He was my secret weapon. We had a lot of fun collaborating on those cases. And best of all, he never asked me that proverbial question which people always ask defence counsel—how can you defend a person you know is guilty.

Finally, I want to say a few words about Sid and my mother. Simply put, they had a wonderful marriage. Before they started spending time together each had experienced a dark period in their lives. But that all changed when they became a couple. Sid and my mother were so good together. They rejuvenated and renewed each other. They were inseparable companions for over 23 years. They enjoyed so many common interests particularly music, opera art and travel. (golf) Sid was devoted to my mother and she was devoted to him.

Their relationship was enriched by the support and love of a wide circle of wonderful friends- so many of them are here today. My brothers and I have always been extremely grateful that mom and Sid found each other and enjoyed such a loving partnership.

Many of you here today attended Sid’s 90^th birthday party last May. My mother did such a superb job organizing that celebration. All of her efforts were well worth it just for her and Sid to feel all that love, affection and respect from those of you who were there. And of course Sid was absolutely delighted to be the guest of honour. He didn’t usually like to the centre of attention but I think that on this occasion, he made an exception.

Our hearts are broken by Sid’s passing and we will miss him terribly. At the same time we should not forget that he led such a full and rewarding life.

Sid contributed so much good to so many lives.

Rabbi Dov Marmur married my mother and Sid in this temple in 1987. I would like to conclude with the final sentence of Rabbi Marmur’s eloquent message of condolence that he sent to our family yesterday:

“As Sidney Nathan’s life was a blessing to many, may now his memory be a blessing to all who mourn him.”