farmdoc's blog post number 345

My friend and hero Harry Greenberg died on 20 October 2008, aged 89 years. I was about to write that 23rd March – eight days ago – would have been his 90th birthday. But indeed it was his 90th birthday. The previous day – 22nd March – Sweetheart Vivienne and I visited Harry’s daughter Jo and her husband Jim. To celebrate Harry’s 90th, Jo baked us Harry’s favourite cake – a chocolate sponge with coffee icing. It was so delicious, I don’t have a photo of it to show you. Just after I scoffed down my first piece of the cake, Jo – Harry’s executor – gave me three mementos from among Harry’s possessions: a superb hand-made rug (on one side the knitting by Marge, the patchwork on the other side done by Jo); and two books, perfectly chosen for me. Farm Ballads, Festivals & Legends, by Will Carleton; I can’t find the publication date, but it has a hand-written ‘Xmas 1912’ inscription on the flyleaf. And The Note Book of Elbert Hubbard, published in 1927. I think both are first editions, and that Carleton’s book’s still in print. I’m honoured that despite Harry and Marge’s very large family, Jo saw fit to give me the rug and books – three special items that I’ll treasure like I’ll treasure my memories of Harry and Marge: that is, lovingly and always.

farmdoc's blog post number 280

‘Memento’ is the imperative Latin word for ‘remember’. The early fifteenth century Psalm cxxxi in the Canon of the Mass begins with the word ‘memento’, and commemorates the dead. Around 1768, the usage of ‘memento’ widened to include a keepsake or souvenir, i.e. items not specifically related to death. Last Friday Sweetheart Vivienne told me a young relative of hers had become very distressed when one of Lucy’s possessions was given away. Initially I didn’t understand, but now I think that object was a memento – according to the word’s fifteenth century meaning and not its eighteenth century one. Then yesterday I came across this surprising article in Haaretz about the recent phenomenon of the families of fallen Israeli soldiers wanting to keep their sons’ personal weapons. And then there’s the practice, seemingly increasingly prevalent, of road trauma victims’ relatives or friends placing small shrines at the crash locations. Self-evidently those shrines are mementos commemorating the dead. In last Friday’s mail came an exquisite doll (pictured). It’s clasping a heart, and also a note from Harry and Marge Greenberg’s daughter Jo and her husband Jim telling us their love and thoughts are with us at this time. Jo hand-made the doll especially for us (while Jim washed the dishes). Thank you, Jo and Jim. Though a cliché, it’s nonetheless true that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We will treasure that memento, and also your thoughtfulness and love, forever.

farmdoc's blog post number 224

My recent JFK blog post included a link to his tangible memorials. That there are so many, is to be expected given he was the third most admired person of the twentieth century. I can’t fathom why some people are globally famous, some nationally famous, some locally famous, and most not famous at all. But that’s a topic for a future blog post. Today I write again of Harry Greenberg, because he died exactly one month ago today. Harry was not globally or nationally famous, yet his personal qualities arguably exceeded many of those who are. To me he seemed a private man who didn’t seek the public spotlight (though for years his letters to the Age editor were enviably frequent). Indeed I guess that hypothetically had a public profile been offered him, he would have graciously declined it. The bottom line is that Harry is unlikely to be the subject of many, if any, public memorials. Hopefully his unique and evocative artwork will inspire and remind many future generations of him. But his greatest, and longest lasting, memorials are likely to be his very large descendant family, and the effect he had on the considerable number of people whose lives he touched in so many ways. I am fortunate and privileged to be in the latter group.

farmdoc's blog post number 195

Harry Greenberg, my friend and hero, died last Thursday evening. Born on 23 March 1919, he lived to the age of 89 years. I can’t recall when I first met Harry, but I suspect it was at Temple Beth Israel even before 1970 when his son Peter and I became friends. In 1970 Harry was 51, so I have no first-hand knowledge of his earlier life. I’m aware he was a chartered accountant and then a real estate agent. I didn’t know him when he lived in Horsham and Croydon, but I visited him in his Wandin, Hawthorn, Noosa and Ardoch homes. I have a vivid memory of a deeply suntanned Harry driving a Moke around Noosa. In 1941 at age 22, Harry married Marge, and for the next 62 plus years they were inseparable. Their marriage was a joy to behold. Harry delighted in reading books and stories to Marge. And their joint artwork brought them immense satisfaction. It was recently exhibited at the Jewish Museum in Melbourne. Because of their long and extraordinarily strong marriage, I thought that after Marge died in 2003, Harry would go into a decline. But the opposite occurred. He told me the only way he could cope was to be as busy as he could be – including painting. His energy throughout his late 80s would have put men half his age to shame. For many years he was a reader on radio station 3RPH (radio for the print handicapped), and well into his 80s he remained a volunteer with Jewish Care ‘looking after the oldies’. He was a Liberal Jew who adored attending services at the Temple, and he was pleased he could walk there from Ardoch. He was the devoted patriarch of a large family – three children, 13 grandchildren and 10 (I think) great grandchildren – and he rejoiced in reciting their names, ages, achievements, and locations in the world. In May 2004 Harry and grandson Felix visited me in Mole Creek. We had fun. Though Harry was 28 years older than I, we were friends – not intergenerational friends, but friend friends. Also to me he was a hero and role model – because of his long and devoted marriage, his kind and gentle nature, his generosity with time, his warm hospitality, and his genuine interest in everyone and everything. In December 2007 he began his Zayda’s Random Reflections blog, and I have no doubt that had he not done so, Farmdoc’s Blog would not have eventuated. Sweetheart Vivienne and I last saw Harry on Friday 17 October when we visited him at Central Park Nursing Home where his room’s walls were adorned with his and Marge’s artwork. He looked pale, tired and unwell. He had advanced cancer. But as usual he was interested, inquisitive and gracious. Yesterday morning his daughter Jo phoned to tell me her Dad had died the previous evening – painlessly, peacefully and with dignity. I will treasure always, my memories of Harry, as I will cherish the small sea chest that he painted a sailing ship on, and presented to me some years ago. I will miss him. I do already – as I write this post, my heart is heavy, and I strain to see my computer screen through my tears. It’s difficult for me to contemplate that I will never again phone him and hear the sing-song voice at the other end say ‘This is Harry’. Harry Greenberg, you have immeasurably enriched my life, and for that I will be grateful to you for as long as I live. It was a privilege knowing you. Farewell, my Friend.