When I met my wife, I was introduced to an entirely new vocabulary – Yiddish. I was born in a small impoverished coal town in Eastern Pennsylvania that was populated by immigrants from Ireland, Germany and Scotland with a smattering of Pennsylvania Dutch people. Then I moved to Pittsburgh and learned Pittsburghese ‘nat.
So I knew English and Pittsburghese. I even knew a little Spanish. But other than a few lines from Billy Crystal in movies, I had never heard anyone speak Yiddish.
One of the Yiddish words she taught me was mensch.
We were going to our first holiday party together at her friend’s home. Being the “new guy” and not knowing anyone, I was nervous. Ellen said to me, “Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to everyone”.
And she did. I met members of her extended family and lifelong friends of hers. Everyone seemed to have grown up together. In most cases, their parents and grandparents also had grown up together.
So I was definitely the odd man out.
One guy I met, Robbie, was particularly friendly. Even though I was a stranger, not from the neighborhood and socially awkward, he seemed to take a genuine interest in me. We spoke for at least an hour.
He was so easy to talk to. He looked a little like the human version of Kermit the Frog. He dressed kind of shlumpy and had thick glasses. But everyone who saw him lit up with a smile and gave him a big hug.
Robbie introduced me to a bunch of people. He asked questions about my family and my life. He smiled and laughed a lot. When we were leaving the party, he came over and told me how much he enjoyed meeting me and looked forward to seeing me again.
After the party Ellen asked me what I thought about her friends and family. I told her they were like most people I met at parties. Some were aloof. Some were friendly. Some were funny. One was obviously mentally ill and one was a mean drunk. Overall, I told her that I thought her friends were OK.
Except for Robbie. I told her that I really liked him and how nice he had been to me.
She said, “Everybody loves Robbie. He’s a mensch!”
The official definition of mensch is “a person of integrity and honor”.
My personal definition of a mensch meets a higher standard. “A person of honor and integrity, who genuinely cares for people around him, who laughs frequently, loves generously, listens closely and shares his entire self with the people around him.”
I have known quite a few mensches.
My Aunt Es and Uncle Bob. Despite never having spouses or children of their own, they helped raise, feed and care for multiple generations of nieces and nephews including my mother, her siblings, many of my cousins and of course, me.
My former employee and longtime friend, Tif, whom I wrote about here. Tif keeps in touch with a bunch of people he’s met since graduating from college. He makes a point never to go too long without a call, a visit or an invitation to meet.
Another former employee, Dave Buchman. Unlike me, Dave befriended every coworker he ever met. He’d go out for drinks, have them over to his home and would get together with their families.
A new friend from my pool, Gary. Gary is one of those guys who you are instantly comfortable talking to. When he heard I was going in for surgery, his first words were – Can I help you? Do you have anyone who will stay with you afterward? I’ll bring a pizza!
The aforementioned Robbie. Robbie, who’s Jewish, sent us, a mostly Jewish family (except for me), a handmade Christmas Card every year for the next 29 years until my wife died and I disappeared into the woods. Despite us never giving him our address, he managed to track us down across 3 states and more than 15 relocations. His cards were always hilariously staged photos that he edited. They were the highlight of the season. Little did he know that we would keep his card on our fridge for the entire year and would share it with visitors and laugh about it with others on his mailing list. Robbie was the one who said this when Ellen died.
My wife, Ellen. I used to tease her that she was a magnet for people to talk to. Everyone would talk to her. Strangers. Lunatics. Aloof people. People in line. Me. We could just tell from on look that she was interested and cared about us. I always felt like her eyes drank me in when she listened to me. now I realize, I wasn’t the only one who felt this.
I am a man of integrity and honor. I try very hard to be kind and loving. But I’m no mensch.
But I am lucky that I’ve known quite a few.