Jack Nachemson
1919 - 2013
Jack Nachemson
1919 - 2013
Obituary
Guest Book
BORN
1919
DIED
2013
Jack Nachemson Obituary
He was born on November 11, 1919, to Russian immigrants Beckie and Max Nachemson in Brooklyn, New York. Jack was the oldest of four children.
Raised as an Orthodox Jew, Jack graduated from a Brooklyn high school and met his future wife, Ruth Gruber, on a blind date in the 1940s. He worked for many years as a manufacturer in the Garment District, including several years in which he ran his own business.
Jack and Ruth Nachemson raised three children mostly on Long Island. They had been married for 37 years when Ruth died in 1984 of a brain tumor.
Jack married the former Ain Lasalle in 1989 and worked in his later years inspecting goods that were exported to foreign countries. He continued working until less than two weeks prior to his death.
In addition to his first wife, Jack is preceded in death by sister Judy Druckman. He is survived by sisters Edie Nadrich and Pauline Miller.
Additional survivors include daughters Laney Honig and Marilyn Goldstein and son Marty Nachemson, as well as seven grandchildren and two stepchildren.
To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.
6 Entries
Russell Goldstein
April 7, 2013
When I think back on my most cherished memories with Grandpa Jack, it's the simplest ones that stand out. It's a big hug and a big smile to greet me in the living room when I got home from school during his visits to Maryland. It's "The Talk" that would follow, in which I was required to give the rundown of my adolescent love life, career aspirations, and athletic accomplishments. And it's the image of him later settling down for a nap in his favorite spot on his favorite chair.
At important family occasions - weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, graduations, and trips to New York - grandpa's presence seemed to bring a sense of completeness and affirmation. Beaming with pride and joy he'd lend an embrace, a pat on the shoulder, and a few words of encouragement. Then I'd know that this was real and this was important. The same was true for our achievements - and none was too big or too small. In the last few years, amidst the intensely competitive and fast-paced nature of medical training, there would be a phone call or a letter from grandpa. "I am so very proud of you," he'd say. "Your brothers, they will be great. But you will be legendary." It was fitting then that his last words to me were just after I matched into a residency training program. "I am here glorifying you," he said. And at that I could take a breath, clear my head, and enjoy the moment.
We often joked with Grandpa Jack about his complete avoidance of the new wave of media and communication, as he would never make it to texting, e-mailing, or surfing the web. Looking back now I realize that it went deeper than that. This is an era where distractions are infinite and new bits of information must be processed at a continuous rate, otherwise we feel left in the dust. But Grandpa Jack's message was simple and pure. To wake up each morning is a "beau-tee-ful" thing. Love with an open heart. Work hard toward your goals and when you face a challenge, put your head down and work harder. And most of all believe in yourself. There won't be anymore pats on the shoulder or joyful phone calls, but in my heart his message will always be there. All I need to do is take a breath, clear my head, and think of that voice from New York.
Norm Goldstein
April 6, 2013
Jack always espoused and lived the words, “believe in yourself”. Once he lay that mantra on you with his hand on your shoulder, there WAS no other way. All through our many years together he always added a little gesture (or cash) in support of celebrations, purchases, education, and careers. It got so after a while, that I actually DID believe in myself. In fact, now when I say something is true, either professionally to a patient, or to family or friends, my tone is so definitive, that noone can doubt it. Yet the following day, I might reverse myself 180 degrees and still sound just as sure. I can't say I can pull it off with the charm and charisma of a Jack, but good enough for me to get by the issue and move onto the next.
Kidding aside, there are many things that would have been far more difficult without the benevolent touch of my favorite father figure. He read all my medical school application essays and actually acted interested even with the tenth rewriting. He housed Marilyn and me temporarily after we got married and limousined me in his Cadillac to Manhattan only reminding me a few times a week that I never thought it could be this good, “in my wildest dreams.” He rescued us from a Manhattan lease, three days after we signed it, behind the scenes, so that we could flee to Chicago with our credit intact. He flew us to California for a vacation midway thru school just “because”. He gave us a very large Chrysler New Yorker (my first car with leather seats, visor mirrors, and push button windows) to make us a two car family handling all the repairs for four or five years. He gave me several (at least three I can think of) interest free loans to allow us a house and two more cars. And he paid for countless family celebrations to bring us all together.
Jack, your generousity of spirit and pocket was only surpassed by the unconditional love you showed Marilyn and me and all my boys. I shall carry you in my heart and will try to encourage and support others in the manner you have taught by example. When they built you Jack, “they broke the mold.” (a Bruce Springsteen line). Thanks for having taken me into the Nachemson clan and nurturing us all for over forty years.
Shelley Honig
April 5, 2013
When I think about my grandfather, I know how lucky I am to have had him in my life for so long, and how many wonderful experiences I had with him. Grandpa and I had a special relationship that I will always treasure. He was as warm, loving and kind of a man as I ever knew, and I knew him since the day I was born!
I don't necessarily remember this, but I've been told that when I was little, Grandpa would hold me in his arms and dance around with me, as I kicked him in excitement and joy.
My earliest memories of Grandpa include going swimming on Sunday mornings at Echo Park in West Hempstead, and afterward we'd have so much fun going for breakfast.
Grandpa was always there for me. Whenever we would part, he would say “if we don't see each other, we'll call each other. If we don't call each other, we'll write each other!” Which was always funny, because we lived so close together.
I will always treasure the time I spent with Grandpa. Whether it was going for ice cream while we shouted “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!” or when he and I would fly to Maryland to visit the Goldsteins, and we'd eat peanuts on the plane (back when they still gave you peanuts on the plane).
As you will hear from his other grandchildren, my Grandpa was extremely generous in many ways; he would always, always give to me, his “Little Dear”, birthday and Hanukkah presents with the instruction, “this money is for spending, not for saving.”
One special distinction I had for a long time was being Grandpa's only granddaughter; he would also call me “The Queen.” When each of my cousins Max and Andrew were born, I found out their gender when Grandpa called and declared, “The Queen reigns supreme!” Then, when cousin Julia was born, he informed me “there's a princess in the Kingdom.”
Whatever Grandpa did, he did with enthusiasm.
As I got older and went away to college, I didn't get to see Grandpa as often, but he'd always remind me he was thinking of me. He was so excited about my first car that I had yet to see that he took a Polaroid photo of it, labeled it “Shelley's Car”, and mailed it to me. I proudly hung that photo on my wall at Binghamton, anxious to drive my car.
He truly was a wonderful man, and I know how much he loved me, and how thrilled he was to find out that I was going to be getting married.
Even before Michael proposed, when preparing for Mark's wedding to Liz last spring, Grandpa made a point of saying he wanted to buy a tuxedo, because he knew that he'd be needing to wear it at least twice.
In just under two months, we were both so looking forward to Grandpa dancing at our wedding, and as special as our wedding will be, it just won't be the same without Grandpa.
I love you so much Grandpa, and I am so lucky I got to know you for so many years. We will all miss you, but you'll be in our hearts forever.
Scott and Grandpa Jack at his 90th birthday party.
Scott Goldstein
April 3, 2013
When I was little, Grandpa Jack came back from a beach vacation -- probably to Montauk -- and told me he had been walking along the beach when he picked up a small rock that had my name on it. Grandpa Jack said he walked some more until he found another rock with my name on it. He gave me those two rocks and, sure enough, they both had the name “Scott” written in black marker. I believed that story for far longer than I'd like to admit before I realized that “Scott” sure looked to be written in his handwriting.
Grandpa Jack was a storyteller. More than his own stories, however, Grandpa Jack was most interested in the stories of his loved ones and especially his grandchildren. I was “best friend Scott” or “the character,” Mark was “Pal Mark” and Russell was “Buddy Russell.” He called and wrote us often and he almost never forgot a birthday or an anniversary. I've never known another person who got so much joy out of the achievements of others. At 93, he was excited to wake up every day, not just to go to work, but also to be a part of our lives and to share in our happiness. So it's not surprising to me that he held on just long enough for one last happy family moment.
In one of our last phone conversations less than two weeks ago, Grandpa Jack asked me yet again when I was going to propose to Samantha. I promised him it would be very, very soon. We laughed and he referred to her as my fiancé, as he has been doing for some time.
He suffered some serious complications soon after that conversation and he never fully regained consciousness. But on Saturday, my parents were at his bedside in a New York hospital and whispered in his ear that I followed through on my promise -- and she even said, “yes.”
I don't know life without heartfelt phone calls and letters from Grandpa Jack. I don't know how we can have weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and graduations without him there, sitting back, watching and smiling. I do know that we will always love him, we will always miss him and we will always strive to make him proud.
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Samantha Burns
April 2, 2013
I am so happy that I got to meet Grandpa Jack at Mark and Liz's wedding. He was someone who clearly held a special place in Scott's heart, and as soon as I met him, I understood why. His big, kind eyes and the warm hug he gave me exuded such love. I'm sorry that I didn't have the chance to know him longer, but I'll always remember his wonderful spirit and remain thankful that I got the chance to share such a beautiful day with him.
Rob Zantay, nephew
Robert Zantay
April 1, 2013
My Uncle Jack was one of the grownups that I knew as part of my family when I was growing up on Long Island. I will always remember the twinkle he would get in his eyes when he was having a good time. I remember Jack sitting on the beach at Deerwood with my father, Zip. Zip was complaining that there were so many problems, running the summer camp, that he couldn't just relax with Jack. Jack told him "If you don't have problems, you don't have a business!" True words. My Uncle Jack and Aunt Ruth took me into their lovely home when I was going to school in New York City, and even though I tried to straighten out the grapefruit knife and left the key in the door one night, They never told me that I had to go. I was always made to feel like I belonged.
My Uncle Jack showed me, by his example, that hard work pays off.
He was a man who loved his family, loved to swim, and had a great laugh.
I will miss him.
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