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
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