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November 15, 2006 Issue: 7.09  
Elliot, You Beat Me Again
this is column
30

I first met Missy and Elliot Rothpearl about 6 years ago. Arlene and I had attended a sabbath morning Torah service and in walked Elliot. wearing a cream colored suit , a broad brimmed hat, and carrying a walking stick. He was bearded, with a semi bald head and pony tail, very smart pointed shoes, and everyone turned around to watch him as they moved down the row of seats to find vacant ones I saw him put on a kippa that was large and multi colored and watched as he took out his Tallit Gadol, said the prayer ,and placed it over his shoulders.

The service was much different that day .A booming voice now resounded during the liturgy; that was Elliot, “low key and shy”.

I welcomed him, “shabbat shalom”, after the service ended during the oneg, and he began to speak and I realized that he was speaking the king's English , another Jewish New Yorker to add more spice to the south. . I learned that Stephanee, the chazinette, had officiated at their marriage a few weeks earlier and had invited them to Beth Jacob.

Both Elliot and Missy glowed with joy when they attended sabbath services and sure enough, every week, like clock work they were there. It didn’t take long before Elliot moved from the Congregational seating to the Praise and Worship team. Elliot was very attuned to sound and of course a perfectionist. It would truly concern him if the sound or sound system wasn’t perfect and worked very hard to try to convince those in charge of the sound to change things or fine tune the sound.

I remember him telling me that we really needed a stage and within two weeks he and a bunch of guys were hocking and clopping to build one.

Elliot invited us to his home for the “Saturday Night Café” in which Elliot would cook for 14 – 18 people, set the food up buffet style. It was a social evening for friendship and sharing that would inevitably turn into an evening of prayer, praise and worship singing, and sometimes teaching about the Almighty. The door was always open and you’d never know who would drop in, so Elliot would spend countless hours cooking and preparing food often involving others to help prepare. I know he’d involve youngsters because Elliot was always the teacher.

Elliot had a heart for hospitality and would often buy 25 tickets for the Passover seder at the Congregation. That’s a lot considering we only seat 200. He always brought me a bottle of wine and placed it at our family table. I want you to know, that this made my brother Herb very happy. Herb thought we were drinking grape juice just like at every other table. Elliot winked at him as he set the bottle down.

Elliot loved G-d and loved people. An old hippie from the Bronx, Elliot had the look. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he told me that he and Missy went to sabbath services on a Harley, I could believe it even if it weren’t true.

Elliot saw things in black and white. If you said you were going to do something he took you at your word, if you didn’t you’d expect a direct response from him. I think one of the things that frustrated him the most was people that were not actively involved in whatever he was volunteering to do. He had high standards for himself and expected everyone else to also have them.

Elliot was an exceptional musician and would bring fershedina instruments when we got together to play. He always found something positive to say about a person playing an instrument, no matter how bad that person played. I know, ‘cause I received some of his “compliments”.

I’ll miss our sharing and bantering; we spoke to one another about 5 days a week. I’ll miss seeing his smiling face as he’d sit with a large margarita waiting for me to order a steak at Applebee's.. I’ll miss all the crazy things we talked about and all the dreams we shared. I’ll miss talking about a possibility and making it a reality. I guess I keep thinking of Daniel’s bar mitzvah, that we decided to cater. Elliot said, you take care of the oneg in the a.m. and I’ll make the dinner. We agreed we’d both split the cost and he kept adding to the menu, I couldn’t stop laughing, I think my wedding cost only $2.00 more than this kid’s bar mitzvah.! I enjoyed the shticks like when he made a bas relief of the rabbi in chopped liver and I’ll miss the phone calls…”hello Mel, I’m at Costco, they have a pastrami to die for, same recipe as the Carnegie delicatessen, how much you want? Do you want the potato knishes too? O.K. I’ll pick you up a Nova or should I just buy the salmon and you’ll make your own?” That was Elliot, always considering others. I think the people that lost out were the ones who didn’t open up to him: after all, this is the south, and genteel he wasn’t.

I’d like to share how we started writing together for the Megillah. I had mentioned to Elliot that Laura Palmer’s uncle Michael Fein produced and edited the Gantseh Megillah, a Jewish on line publication, and thought he might enjoy reading it. The next thing I saw was Elliot’s column appearing. The next time I saw him I asked him if he was planning a take over. He said “no, why?’ “ Well you were supposed to read the Megillah and you’re writing for it.!! We both laughed and Elliot said, nu, so write with me , and I did.

I had asked Carmen De Roma, a mutual friend, how she saw Elliot. This was her response…”He was a kind, generous, good hearted man that loved God, Missy, people and loved life…he was impatient with foolishness when it came to things that he thought were important,”

It’s been two months since Elliot passed away and I loved the man and I miss him…he was the one with the membership to Costco and I can’t get the Pastrami.

I ask only one thing of Elliot---- save us a seat in the front row. I know we’ll be joining you when our number is called. Elliot—you beat me again.

 

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