A Tribute to Ellen Basch, z”l
Ellen, Ellen, so full of life, with so much flair. It’s hard for me to imagine life without you, although I live in Israel and you lived in America. How do I say goodbye to such a dear friend? And where do I begin writing about you? I know what you would say: “Start at the very beginning,” taken straight from a musical that you once put on.
We met 40 years ago in the hall of Shulamith School for Girls, in Brooklyn, New York. You, Ellen Basch, were the very popular drama teacher, and I was sitting on a chair next to the open door of the sixth grade. One of my closest friends had just passed away and I had promised her that I would take her daughter to live with me. I lived a six-hour plane ride across the U.S., and the child was very fragile. Although she had been very popular in her old school, she didn’t know anyone here in N.Y. So, to reassure her that she was going to be all right, I sat outside her classroom every day. That is where you found me. You brought your lunch and sat right down next to me. Every day for the whole school year, we had lunch together. And so it began: sharing life stories, pain, emotions – a lifelong friendship.
Ellen had amazing talent. Every year she put on a musical production with the sixth-grade girls. She borrowed ideas from Broadway and molded them into appropriate stories for Orthodox girls. She knew exactly which girls would be perfect for which parts. And she made them shine. She knew how to bring girls out of shyness and to help them overcome problems. It really took a special talent and a very warm heart to know exactly who needed the parts, year after year. To this day, these girls sing songs from their plays. I never realized what a difference it makes in the life of a child to be a star in a play. And the funny thing is, Ellen made even the small parts get a lot of attention. I continued going to her school productions, long after “my girl” had graduated.
By the end of that first year, our families had become close. Ellen’s husband, Myron, had a limousine and I had an idea that could help my father. Every day at three p.m., my father would drive to The Jewish Press office. He wasn’t young anymore and I wasn’t so happy to have him driving. What’s more, in the summers he would drive himself up to the mountains (a two-hour drive) every weekend. I asked Myron if we could hire him to be my father’s chauffeur. With a little urging from Ellen, he agreed. My father had to be convinced, but after that first ride it was a match made in heaven. Myron became like a son to my dad. Years later, when my father was ill, Myron took care of him every day. In the meantime, Ellen was not only one of my closest friends, but she also became a very good friend of my sister Hindy.
Ellen and Myron had two daughters, and they were the apples of their parents’ eyes. Ellen had a flair for turning ordinary clothing into something very special. She bought all kinds of accessories and sewed them onto dresses, and suddenly everything looked priceless. “Where did you buy that?” could often be heard, and when they went to the same store, of course they couldn’t find the same item.
Ellen tried her hand at matchmaking, and she made a number of shidduchim. But the best one of all was the one she made for my sister Hindy’s son. After she made matches, if the mother of the bride or groom asked her for ideas for a gown, she became their “personal shopper” and showed them how to transform even a pretty dress into a work of art.
So much talent, and she also had a beautiful voice. Her father had been a chazzan and she inherited it from him. Ellen’s parents lived downstairs in a two-family house. As her parents grew older, Ellen and Myron took care of many of their needs. After her father died (too young), Ellen was very solicitous of her mother. For many long years, after Myron sadly passed away, Ellen didn’t go away for a Shabbos because she didn’t want to leave her mother. Ellen was not an only child, but she excelled in the mitzvah of kibbud av v’eim.
Ellen was great fun to be with, but my sister and I could also share troubling situations with her. She was wise beyond her years. If she could help in any way, she was right there.
When I moved back to Israel six years ago, aside from missing my daughter and sister (and some other family in the U.S.), Ellen was the friend I missed the most.
Ellen subsequently became ill and Hindy would update me. She kept conquering all her illnesses – until the last one. My brother-in-law videoed the funeral for me, and I cried from afar. I’m very proud that all my sister’s children (except the one who lives in Israel) were at Ellen’s funeral.
She lived to see great nachas. Her two daughters married wonderful men and she celebrated bar and bat mitzvahs with her grandchildren, graduations, and more, and the nachas of watching the children grow up. Grandson Tzvi married and has three daughters, the last one born shortly after Ellen’s death and named for her. Granddaughter Gabriella became engaged to a very special young man and Ellen loved him. She won’t be physically at the wedding, but she will be looking down and beaming.
I miss you, dear, dear lifelong friend, my beautiful Ellen Basch.