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Kathy Gottfried posted a condolence
Monday, March 15, 2021
Below are the words spoken by Joel, Henry's brother, at the funeral:
Memories of my brother:
- When I was just a baby, Henry was the one who carried me down to the air raid shelter in Tel-Aviv
- When I was a little older, I was somewhat mischievous – I would throw things out of our window (3rd floor?) and Henry would have to go down and retrieve; when in my stroller, I would drop things along the way and Henry would have to retrieve, all as I was laughing hysterically. Not sure he thought it was so funny.
- When Henry went away to college at Berkeley, I was 6 years old and devoted to him. I would stand at the front room window on Friday afternoon, crying because he was a few minutes late.- In school I followed his footsteps – he was an engineer so I would be an engineer; he went to Cal so I would go to Cal; he got a PhD so I would get a PhD (that one didn’t work out so well).
- Henry moved to LA after college so we didn’t see each other as much, but I moved there also after college. He lasted about 60 years, I lasted about 2-1/2. But we lived fairly close to each other.- And life just kept going. Suszi and Kathy grew up and got married; my kids grew up and got married. And then we were all devastated when Sandy died. But Henry was
resilient. He met the next love of his life, Inga, and spent 17 wonderful years with her, travelling all over the world.
- So here we are. Celebrating a wonderful, loving, caring person. My brother. Not the easiest life, leaving Germany at age 4 and going to Israel; leaving Israel at 15 and coming to America; getting a PhD at Cal and never once (in my recollection) did I ever hear him call himself Dr. Lurie; raising a wonderful family.
- I will miss him. Very, very much.
K
Kathy Gottfried posted a condolence
Sunday, March 14, 2021
Below are the words spoken by Rabbi Shulman at our dad's funeral:
In Loving Memory Henry Lurie March 9, 2021 – 25 Adar 5781
My dear Inga,
For some strange reason, in sadness and affection for Henry, Inga and your loving family, I have a wedding on my mind this afternoon.
Is that because Henry actually holds a patent on the Huppah frame he designed and we used at Ner Tamid? Or, more to the point, Inga, is it because, even today, I want all of us to hold onto the joy we remember feeling at yours and Henry’s wedding?
For some strange reason, in sadness and affection for you all, at this sad reunion to honor Henry’s life and love, I have your wedding on my mind this afternoon. Even now, I picture us gathered in your backyard on January 2, 2005.
Inga, at first your relationship with Henry took you by surprise. Henry knew Harlan and you knew Sandy. Theirs were difficult deaths for each of you, your families, and all of us.
After some time, often in the same social setting, you and Henry discovered your common interests and set out your ground rules. There would be no comparing to your beloved late spouses. Yours was to be a new and unique bond. From the very start you both said, whatever happens, no regrets.
Yours was a sweet and happy love and marriage. Just being together, traveling (even to Baltimore to visit me and Robin), and caring for one another and your blended family was what would matter. And it did matter so much for 16 lively and tender years.
A wedding and a funeral have two things in common. Both begin with a processional and both are about love. When a bride and groom walk down the aisle, escorted by their families and friends, it is toward the consecration and celebration of their love that they walk. When a loved one’s casket is escorted by family and friends to the grave, it is from the embrace and lived experiences of their love that they walk.
We all understand the joy and hopefulness of love at a wedding. Love is easier when we’re happy, though maybe not yet resilient. Yet today, all of us who remember Henry with deep love, especially you, Suszi and Kathy, your families, and Henry’s brother Joel, as we honor Henry’s life, we feel love’s sadness.
A deep and enduring love, a love resilient enough to become the most genuine source of your comfort over time. We grieve because we love. When our days are bright, and our moods happy, love is easy. Today’s emotion, however, may be more poignant. Love at a time of loss, of such a difficult loss, tells us how truly good those better days of love were. Focus on them. Remember them for their goodness. Embrace each other in that love and with strength because here we all know the delicate nature of being human. We are each exposed and vulnerable in life. Being human is both precious and precarious. Therefore, we work to comfort and treasure each other as Henry treasured each and every one of you.
Suszi and Kathy, appreciate your father’s love. It was whole-hearted, genuine, and deep. He was your loving support, even-tempered as a guide, and a fun-loving Dad. Your father’s opportunity was to live his life worthy of you emulating. It was your father’s responsibility to teach you the wisdom of his years. It was his privilege to pass on his values and ideals to each of you. Honor your father by remembering what brought him so much happiness and recall your parents’ happiness together. See them at home as you were growing up. Hear their voices in your own. Be sure that your children remember the gift of their grandfather’s loving connection to them. He provided them roots and perspective. He received from them a stable place in today’s fast-paced, changing world of different experiences. Suszi and Kathy, I can’t tell you how many times through the years, in Palos Verdes and beyond, your father would smile while filling me in on your lives. His pride evident. His happiness true. Always cherish his care, his esteem, and his love.
As I think about it, there’s one other thing that a wedding and a funeral have in common, at least for today. They reflect Henry’s nature and personality. In Jewish tradition, no matter how elaborate or fancy we make the ceremony and gathering afterwards, the essence of a wedding ceremony and a funeral service are their simple elegance and straightforward expression. Precisely how Henry lived among us. Simply and elegantly as a caring husband, father, grandfather, and friend. Straightforward and direct as an engineer, a community member, and a very kind man.
Henry wrote me a thank you note some years ago. It was thoughtful and polite. But, so are most such notes. Henry’s note added the following. “Let me thank you by helping you do something for someone who needs assistance. Call on me whenever I can be useful.” Simple, straightforward, and kind.
Of course, I heard Henry ask a tough question or two in my day as I’m sure you all did. Henry held his ground, respectfully, if he disagreed with someone. I remember a time during Sandy Lurie’s presidency at Ner Tamid. Sandy, of blessed memory, and Henry disagreed about a Board policy being discussed. Not on the Board, Henry didn’t have a vote. Not leaving Sandy alone, Henry did have some influence. I don’t remember the result. Only the honesty of the conversation and the good will acceptance of whatever was the outcome.
When Robin and I moved into our home on Meadowmist, Henry came through to make sure all of the items on the realtor’s punch list, the realtor being Sandy of course, were properly completed. Finding anything that was not done to Henry’s satisfaction, he took out his own tools and made the proper repairs. I don’t think this was just a favor. I think this was Henry. Precise. Focused. Helpful. Skilled. Henry paid attention to the details of his life, and to what he could do for others.
Inga, I recall how Harlan, too, could fix almost anything. He was a talented and skilled craftsman. His hands were creative in their dexterity and warm at their touch. Though both of them unique, as you and Henry understood, I sense this trait of being both handy and warm is part of what drew you and Henry close.
A wedding and a funeral have two things in common. Both begin with a processional and both are about love. Our Talmudic Sages teach: “One reroutes the funeral procession to yield before the wedding procession of a bride.” We stop first to consecrate and celebrate love. We pray that only after a lifetime of love’s embrace and many shared experiences do we have to make way for the funeral procession, as we so sadly do today. Jewish tradition joins weddings and funerals to help us understand our lived emotions and the simply elegant rituals through which we express them.
All of us devoted to Henry Lurie’s life and legacy understand this all too well, about him and about ourselves. As the poet Mary Oliver wrote: We shake with joy, we shake with grief. What a time they have, these two housed as they are in the same body. That is why my dear Inga, for some strange reason, in sadness and affection for Henry and all of you, his loving family, I have your wedding on my mind this afternoon.
With every prayer for comfort and the blessings of memory, Rabbi Ron Shulman
K
Kathy (Lurie) Gottfried posted a condolence
Saturday, March 13, 2021
Comments made by Henry's wife, Inga, at the funeral:
Twenty-one years ago on erev Pesach I lost my husband, Harlan. I was 62 years old, but I was sure my life was over. After some time our mutual friends, Mike and Gerri Oshry, tried to integrate me back in to the land of the living, and one thing they did was take me along to the Lurie’s where, unfortunately, Sandy was suffering from ALS. When Sandy died these friends and others continued to get together once in a while and I was always included. Henry and I were always the two singles souls and we became friends.
In March of 2003 We had a large event at the synagogue and Henry and I were talking because by then we knew each other well. For some unknown reason I asked whether he would ever be interested in taking a walk. He said that he liked to walk, but that he didn’t date. I immediately told him that nobody asked him for a date….only if he liked to walk. That began many months of non-dating. We would go out, but I always paid for myself (that probably didn’t bother him too much since he was a frugal man). I never realized or even thought I was falling in love with him. I must have been in denial. My friends would kid me and I kept telling them he’s German and he’s tight-assed. Of course, it didn’t count that I, too, am German and pretty stubborn.
Finally, after some time of this non-dating routine – movies, dinner, phone calls, but not dating – Henry called and invited me to the ballet in Pasadena. It was called Spartacus by Katchatorian. I thought it would be brutal, but it turned out to be magnificent, melodic, sensual, and wonderful. I was so thrilled. Afterward, he actually took me to dinner at the Parkway Grill, a lovely restaurant in Pasadena. Now, you have to realize this was well into the non-dating cycle, but he insisted he wanted to pay for me. All this time there had been nothing romantic whatsoever. We never even held hands. Then, he invited me to dinner for Rosh Hashanah and had me bring Howie and his then wife, Teresa. Things were heating up somewhat. I reported back to the widow’s group (there were several of us) and they all thought something big was going on. I reassured them nothing was going on. That weekend Henry and I were going to see the Bill Murray film “Lost in Translation.” I do not know what possessed me to do it, but I put my hand on his knee. He held my hand. Following the movie he came over and that was it. He never left me.
Well almost….the next day he was heading north for his mother’s birthday and I was going to Chicago for an art tour. I was so discombobulated that I lost my phone and we were unable to communicate. I couldn’t wait to come home!!! Henry and I lived in sin a little over a year. August of 2004, we went to the Lair and he proposed, then he rescinded the proposal when he thought I wanted to tell the kids the next day and he wasn’t ready to do that.
He did finally come to his senses and, although a little backward, our wedding reception took place on New Year’s day 2005. On January 2nd we were married at my house. The wedding was officiated by Rabbi Shulman, and we began an incredible journey that lasted until now. Even though, in the beginning, I told Henry even a year together would be worth it, I have since changed my mind. I was not ready to lose him. Even when filled with people my house feels empty without him. He was such a presence. The room always lit up for me when he walked in. I am very grateful for the time we had together and the wonderful memories we built. He was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather and most of all he was my Henry, my beautiful man.
S
Suszi Lurie McFadden posted a condolence
Tuesday, March 9, 2021
Hello beloved friends and family. Here are the words Suszi & Kathy shared today at Henry funeral. Thank you to all who were able to join us virtually. Apologies for the Zoom issues.
****
He went by many names: Henry, Heinsele, Dad, Grandpa, Big Brother, PITA, Beloved, Papa, Hen, Schmedly, Grandpa Henry, “My Daddy”. All these, but never EVER “Hank.”
Our Dad had a brilliant mind, an open heart, and an infectious laugh.
He could solve any problem and fix anything broken.
He found true love twice in his life, and he loved fully both times. He was loved fully in return.
Dad knew how to build bookshelves, assemble a sukkah, and sew gorgeous chuppahs.
He rejoiced in music, but only if it was classical. Dang, he loved his opera!!
He showed us that real men cry – in life, during movies, at particularly moving commercials.
He loved Inga to the moon and back.
Dad had a full head of hair until the very end. He was very proud of that.
He adored all his grandkids beyond words. He basked in their successes and bragged about them often.
He played a mean hand of bridge.
He collected friends and kept them close – friends from college, Ner Tamid, the Lair, his neighborhoods, and beyond.
He could make a superior – and mega mega Venti -- Frappuccino.
He proved to us that Geeks could be cool.
Dad cherished family – His beloved Inga. His baby brother; our Mom’s extended family; our in-laws; Everyone’s spouses. And, of course, Inga’s kids.
Did I mention all those grandkids?
Dad had a “joke voice.” He always tried to act like he was telling a story, but his “joke voice” gave him away.
His sneezes were legendary.
Dad loved to travel. He would be planning his next trip on the flight home from his current one.
And then there’s us. What else can we add? He was our Daddy. Always and forever. He helped with homework and taught us how to ski. He taught us the importance of an education. He showed us what a healthy, happy marriage looks like. He was our biggest supporter. He helped make us who we are today, and we will miss him every day. To quote a text I received yesterday, “he was everything a Dad is supposed to be.” And we were so very very lucky to have him.
We love you, our Daddy.
H
The family of Henry Lurie uploaded a photo
Tuesday, March 9, 2021
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