I came back to the room this afternoon to my cell phone doing a little vibrating dance on the window sill. I had missed calls. 4 of them. All from my mother. As I stood there the phone rang again in my hand, mom again.
Uncle Irving died yesterday.
Irving Yarok fit into that friends that are closer than family catagory. A wonderful old Jewish man who cared deeply about scouting and helping others. He would visit often on Saturdays and bring wonderful danish and sit and talk in the Ranger Office. Usually he visited in the Spring, Summer and Fall, but he would make a trip in Winter to bring a bottle of Jlugg.
Uncle Irving did not like to travel in the winter months, especially not by foot. He had knee problems when I knew him, arthritis had set in early. He once joked about the winter walking tour through Europe he had taken as a young man.
You see, he was an officer in the army in World War II. He doesn't have his dog tags from his service. You see, he'd been fighting, in Italy I believe, when his unit was captured by Nazi forces. He threw his dog tags away, as far as he could. So they couldn't identify him as jewish. He said once that if felt like throwing his heritage, everything generations of his family had stood for, away.
Then the walk began. For the whole winter, back and forth across Europe. He survived, helped his men survive. Years later a man thanked him for saving his life, he had been in that unit, and had stomach pains. Just before they were captured Uncle Irving had sent him back. He'd had appendicitis, and would have died.
Then, he dedicated his life to helping others, whether through Scouts, or the Jewish Community.
Maybe it was a Worcester thing, or maybe it was just his personality. If you asked him where to go for anything he would know, you'd mention his name there and they'd smile, say sure they knew him, wasn't he wonderful?
He was. And I'll miss him greatly.
