I get an email about a party in Deal, NJ. I feel nostalgic and google Syrian Jews. Go to Wikipedia. Find the pizmonim project
http://www.pizmonim.org/. I then visited Freddy Zalta on Facebook to share my find only to find his Happy Birthday Sam 96 (his father, my grandfather's brother).
http://www.facebook.com/#!/notes/freddy-s-zalta/my-father-sam-zalta-happy-birthday-pop-96/438766831252
I looked at my calendar to find my father's Yahrzeit- and sure enough - it's now! As girls in Orthodox Hebrew School we are told that only males must follow laws that are bound to time."Z'mon grama" is the phrase used. Why? because females have timers built into their beings. And today, my built in timer reminded me of my father Yahrzeit is coming up. And since I always took the easy way out, let the boys worry about time bound commandments.
So I listened to some of the pizmonim. The names of some of the singers were familiar. Mikey Cairey who taught my brothers their Bar Mitzvah parashas. Also listed was one was the father of an old boyfriend. How could I resist the google? Two things were reveled. His children go to Ramaz. (I'm sort of jealous). He donated money to Mitt Romney (I'm so glad we didn't work out).It's OK to vote for him - but give money - yuck!
To make sure the Sam Zalta's story (my paternal grandfather's brother) is alive in my daughter's world I will copy and paste Freddy Zalta's story here:
Throughout my life father has spoken about his past. His hazel eyes sparkle when he mentions his father and his grandfather. Stories of how his father was the barber of the community on the Lower East Side and later, on Bay Parkway. His father would open the door to anyone, always with a smile. He wouldn’t charge the people who couldn’t pay the nickel or so for a haircut and he would provide a cot and some sort of meal for the new arrivals from the Old Country.
My fathers grandfather had a long beard and could not speak a word of English. Despite this he would sit outside the train station on Delancey and Essex Streets, down the block from the Williamsburg Bridge and sell chocolates, ties or whatever it took to bring home some spare change.
My father tells me about all the good people from the old days – about how his father was the most amazing and kind man. How his father would always go out of his way to help another person, no matter whether he was black, white, Jewish, Italian, Irish – it didn’t matter to him. Race was no issue to Mr. Moussa Zalta and his heart of gold.
Sam Zalta, my father, tells me his father was the sort of man who would give his last penny to another person without any questions or strings attached.
That his father would serve coffee among other things and invite people, strangers to come inside to partake. He had canary’s in his barber shop and a love of people and torah which he has never seen in another person.
I smile when my father tells me stories about his father and grandfather. Daddy, you have set a precedent for your children and grandchildren to follow. Your footprints are large, too large for us to even consider filling.
Daddy, you are known throughout the world, literally. When the Syrian government jailed and threatened to kill your cousin, whom you had never met, you contacted Ed Koch and told him about the situation. Within a day they were set free.
When the Syrian Jews were given permission to come to New York in the early 1990’s you were the first stop they made. They would come to you set up their telephones, electricity and to ask questions about everything. They would literally line up in our store on Kings Highway while my brothers and I would shake are head and not understand how you had this magical effect on people.Why you would even take the time out of your day, a large chunk at that, to do things that a community board or government agency should do.
“Make a fresh pot of coffee” he would call out to me. Grudgingly I would get up and do as he said.
Daddy would stand by the door way of Whiz Travel and call in passersby to offer coffee, shelter or a blessing.
My father has a magical quality – he loves people and his motto has always been, "Do unto others, as you would have done to you."
The other day, April 27th, it was a beautiful day in New York City. My father was being interviewed by the Sephardic Heritage Foundation to recount his days on the Lower East Side. He spoke to Lisa Ades about his early childhood there – with each block we walked memories came flooding in.
He spoke about the beauty of his mother and the love that flowed from her comforting each of her twelve children. Leila Zalta, a beautiful lady who I remember as a 96 year old watching "I love Lucy" and baking Syrian pastries in her apartment on east 5th st around the corner from Shaare Zion.
We walk on down Essex Street and come across from a Park.
“That’s were I was born, the building is gone now, but that was 44 Essex Street. Across the street, right here, is where there was once a fire and my uncle climbed onto the roof and began saving people one by one.”
Memories were related to us with that old familiar sparkle in his eyes - with a tear or two and some choking up when he mentioned his parents. He smiled and mentioned how there was only one bathroom for several families to use in each building and how they would each take turns bathing on Thursdays to prepare for Shabbat.
"My grandfather was a wonderful man," he says, "He would help anyone and everyone, always with a smile." With those words he pauses and smiles.
I respect the legacy of my Great Grandfather and Grandfather. I have heard from strangers from all over how wonderful they were. But no one can top the impact my father has made on his children, grandchildren, the strangers and his friends. Sincerity, love, honesty and compassion, those are the pillars of our religion and our community.
My father is a pillar for humanity - he is also an adorable man!
My father, a man who has led by example all of his life, instills a pride among us that all Zalta's are related. A man who has taken the Zalta name and elevated it even further with his natural acts of Hesed, good deeds. As children and grandchildren, we walk with a pride and a sense of importance with the knowledge that the leader of our family is, and always will be, Sam Zalta, son of Leila and Moussa.
