Stories

Kurt was a fine story teller, and one of the best ways to know and remember him is with stories about him. The collected stories here are but a precious sampling. Please feel free to use the contact form to contribute an anecdote or memory for our collection. No one is ever truly gone while they are remembered.

The baseball glove

(Submitted by Peter Elias)

I think I was in 6th grade when I found the envelope of money on the way home from school and immediately realized it was enough to purchase the PeeWee Reese shortstop glove I so dearly wanted. The one on display in the window of Tim and Tom's sport store on Central Avenue.

Dad reminded me that this was probably someone's rent or grocery money, so we went to the local police station and turned it in.  

The storyteller

(Submitted by Peter Elias)

Perhaps it was his interest in classical literature and poetry and his ability to memorize, but my father loved stories, and was a good story teller.  

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The Meaning of lilacs

(Submitted by Peter Elias.)

My Dad was not a gardener. Yard and garden chores where never a major interest for him. Lilacs, however, were special. He would always stop to comment on the scent and beauty of blooming lilacs. Here, in his own words, is the explanation:

The Man (who he was)

(Submitted by Cousin Susi.)

I have anecdotes but wanted to contribute an observation first. I was surprised, upon reading Kurt's memories, to see how his profession permeated his life. We all knew how dedicated he was but I had no idea to what extent. An example is that, in his description of my mother's first fiancé, a man who died in Vienna over 70 years ago, he mentioned the cause of death, which, as far as I know, didn't even have a name back then!

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Ode to Dr Elias

Ode to Dr. Elias
(by Karen Kraskow)
 
He took a rag and made it fine cloth.
He took a silent child and allowed her to talk.
He saw that there was a storm inside and let it rain,
always taking what came while the stormer did not know of her power
to direct the flow.
 
When she did, he was still there to give opportunity for controlling the flow.
When she found her way he acknowledged.

After the Operation

(Submitted by Karen Kraskow.)

I was lying in bed - the gurney- in the operating room. 10 years old in a cloudy sleep. Suddenly I hear... “Hello” “How are you?” I knew the voice. ... Dr. Elias.. the voice of recovery.

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Seventy years with BB

(Submitted by Peter Lynn.)

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My life wth BB

(Submitted by Peter Lynn.)

In some 70 years, Kurti and I were never separated regardless of physical distance. In our small intimate group consisting of Peter Benedict, Lizzy, Susi, the Alkalays, Fred and Ilse Grunwald - he and I were known as BB whereby the first B stood for brother, the second B, however, I am sure he would not have wanted to be public to a vast unknown audience. Regardless of distance, our deep and intimate contact never wavered.

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Christmas Eve will never be the same

(Submitted by Ellen Stein.)

My husband Dick and I met Kurt and Gloria, via our friendship with Hanni and Milton. We so enjoyed being with Kurt at Hanni's small dinner parties, where his warm greetings, great conversation, and heartfelt hugs, were memorable. He seemed to love sharing his Mount Sinai experiences, with Dick, who is on staff there. We both so enjoyed and looked forward to his company.

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Collecting stamps

(Submitted by Peter Elias.)

Try as I might, I cannot remember when or why my father and I began collecting stamps. What I do remember is that he corresponded regularly with friends in England, Holland, Vienna, Switzerland, and France, and that envelopes with colorful tamps were a regular event.

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