My Grandfather's Cane (PART 1)
On the difference between crutches and walking sticks
My grandfather Theodore “Toddy” Schrire was born in Capetown, South Africa in 1906, the 2nd child of shopkeeper parents who lived in the neighborhood known as District 6. He grew up in a strict traditional household, with a mother who insisted her son be able to read Torah before attending secular school. When he did, he proved a capable student with a broad and deep set of interests.
(Left to right, Theodore (Toddy), Israel (Ish) and David - Caledon, South Africa circa 1920)
His primary field became medicine and after completing high school early, he continued this path to medical school, first in South Africa and then in London and the United States, before returning to Africa where he practiced as a surgeon and taught for the rest of his life. While he saved many lives, it was his own sickness that came to define him, both in the cruel irony of his affliction and his brave acceptance and triumph over frailty imposed by fate. The lessons he taught me might inspire us all.
I remember him as the old man he was already when we first visited Capetown in the early 1970’s. The house they lived in was called “Acorns”, a tribute to the nuts he had planted in the garden in the 1940’s when he designed the property, which sat on the slopes of Table Mountain and looked out on the city and the bay, flanked by two other mountains, Lion’s Head and Devil’s Peak. During the afternoons, we would sometimes sit on the back porch as winds blew off the mountains, rustling in the leaves of the big trees. My grandfather by then was old, but the house was a tribute to his life and philosophy, a museum of sorts. To understand the reasons, we must go back to a Saturday in 1954, when he and my grandmother were attending a Bar Mitzvah. Never shy of the buffet, Toddy (as they called him) was finishing off with a watermelon when he choked on a seed and suffered a massive stroke that left him paralyzed on the right side of his body for the rest of his life.
I remember him fondly, though that leaves me in the minority. Everyone loved him, but he had a reputation for firmness and a temper. He was a big man, with a lively, beautiful mind and God had taken away his ability to perform surgery and left him with no means of income and four girls ages 10 to 16. The girls were housed by the local Jewish community while he and my grandmother took a boat to London for intensive recuperative therapy. He returned 6 months later, able to speak and partially walk with the help of a large, metal and leather leg brace and a cane.
(The Doctor “Operating”)
His biggest move at this time was not physical. Yes, he had to get back on his feet, literally. But he also had a home to protect and to do so, he turned to his friend Raymond Sagov. Raymond was a tough kid from his youth, also Jewish and also from Lithuania / Latvia. Their wives were great friends, as were the girls. Rayond came to my grandfather after the stroke and said, “You have access to my bank account. Focus on you physical health for now, and when you’re better, put all you money (he received his Inheritance early) into stock in my company.” Raymond had a company that had built an integrated supply chain and was shipping cotton from the Carolinas to Capetown. He was about to go Public on the Johannesburg Exchange. The company did well, my Grandfather lived out his life like the man he was, despite some major physical and emotional challenges, he retained his position as Leader of the Family.
He spent the bulk of the rest of his life (he lived to 84 ) collecting things that interested him and published a book about his favorite collection called “Magic Hebrew Amulets: Their Decipherment and Interpretation.” It is a beautiful piece of scholarship and features a collection of Amulets he assembled in the early days of the State of Israel using buyers and agents at various outdoor markets in Haifa and through the young country. My favorite of them all (there are like 180 in the collection, is #18 (even better than #137). But back to my Grandfather. After all he experienced, how would he guide the Family best. He had four girls. He must have thought about me and my 8 cousins and our extended tribe and beyond. I’ve spent a long time pondering this subject.
His biggest piece of advice for me personally was when he looked into my eyes one day when we were sitting in the sun-dappled living room, looking at maps from inside ancient books of early exploration and travel. The city and 2 oceans lay below us. The smell of Table Mountain blew in from the front veranda / porch. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I recall smelling lemons from the trees outside their bedroom. In that moment, he looked into my eyes and said, “Collect Into Your Life”. I’ve spent my life trying to figure out what these words intended. I’ve tried to follow this, collecting idea, friends, books, baseball cards, money, music. Experiences.
So dear reader. Let me bring it back to the here and now. I drive every day with my grandfather’s cane in my car. It reminds me of many things - of frailty, patience and self-defense. My grandfather knew a thing or two (about a thing or two). What do you think he meant by “Collect Into Your Life” ? For me, it has inspired me to explore my Hobbies and to think of relationships as collections of ideas and memories. Do you have something from a Grandparent? What would your grandparent want you to do with it? Looking forward to hearing the stories #followtheplot to tag #grandfatherchallenge #collectintoyourlife