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Heart to Heart


The Light Went Out
San Diego Jewish Times, June 2, 2006                                                       .

By Gert Thaler

Even when Sandra Kritzik took her morning walks along La Jolla streets, no one ever saw her without each hair in place, the minimum use of makeup, because her outer beauty had a shine to it. Her inner beauty was felt by the many, many friends and family members who attended her funeral on May 24 held in the sanctuary of Congregation Beth Israel, the congregation she and her husband and family supported for the 30 years since establishing their home here.

 Knowing she had a terminal illness, Sandra insisted on joining with Teedy Applebaum and Rose Silberman in the triumvirate that honored me on the occasion of my hitting the halfway mark in the 80s. Once before, because of my own pneumonia, we had had to cancel the party until a month later when, even though still slightly under the weather, I had insisted we go ahead with the celebration knowing that her time clock was ticking away with no chance of rewinding it.

So we gathered that day, 16 of us, put on our masks that hid our concern for her courage and with champagne glasses clinking, I let the guests toast me and then, turning to the three hostesses but aiming my words in her direction, expressed warmly the precious gift of friendship that each of us holds so dear.

A month later, and in pain, Sandra insisted on the three of them plus me going to lunch in order to present photos of the birthday party that Dr. Robert Berk had taken. There were only two men present that day, her husband and Berk and they had been given the task of photo taking and then dismissed to another section to share their luncheon. My party was one of those “For Women Only” affairs, and the guests relaxed, laughing, with a few tears enveloping us in conversation. Until now at this writing I had asked that nobody except those present would know of our gathering that day. Because of space limitation I was requested to keep my list to 12 people. I defy my readers to pick and choose which 12 of their friends they would select from a list of 56 possibilities. Fortunately, several “nearest and dearest” were out of town and working hours prevented others from being among the chosen.

That event was the last of the jamborees at which this one hostess would preside. When she entertained, it was in real style. The word “ordinary” didn’t exist in her vocabulary. Her idea of a simple little dinner for four would always feature a theme, special décor, flowers and gourmet food, even though it would be held in the most informal or resplendent restaurant. Home cooking had been abandoned long before.

The fact that her birthday occurred on July 5 always allowed her to come up with an Independence Day blowout. Since no fireworks were allowed, the guests were instructed to wear red, white and blue clothing and men sometimes outshone women. The first party of hers I ever attended featured her manicure and pedicure conforming to the color scheme. It was held on the lawns of the La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club with down-to-earth traditional hot dogs and trimmings among the fare served to each guest, along with cuisine she had selected that was anything but ordinary.

She loved children and doted on her own two adult sons and their wives, plus her loved and loving grandchildren. And the hundred or so guests shared her love for people. At that party there was no thought of what future years would yield, nor that her years were to be numbered and that 67 would be the fatalistic goodbye date. The next time you know someone who has lived for 85 years, tell them of their good fortune. Look in the mirror today and tell the image how precious each of our days are.

The lights went out for Sandra Kritzik on Saturday, May 20, never to light up our lives as she did every time we met. While her loss is felt deepest by her loving husband, Bob, with whom she shared her bountiful life for 47 years, her mourners came from all walks of life. The morning coffee klatch crowd at La Jolla’s Pannikin and “Philip” the manicurist on La Jolla Blvd. that she and I shared, as well as her cardiologist who had successfully seen her through life-threatening years that had no relationship to the cause of her death.

Sandy liked to have control of any situation in which she was involved, which is a disease inherent in many over-energized women. Is it part of our Jewish heritage? Because there’s a lot of us around. The perfectionist mania strikes and is impossible to shake. And people come to realize the inner artistry that lies beneath the surface of such persons. That’s why whatever job they tackle is done with assurance. That was one of her greatest assets.

She is gone now from our daily lives. But not from our memories.

From her sick bed she would compliment my matzoh balls and chicken soup, a constant source of nourishment. Now it can be told. My fear was that one day she would discover the soup was packaged Maruchan soup mix and noodles. And the matzoh balls from a box of Manischewitz mix. The only intensive labor involved the cracking of two eggs into a bowl, adding the mix and rubbing the palms of two hands together until a ball was formed. Voila! Mamaloshen and I made Sandra’s list of favored gourmet cooks.

She will be fondly missed. The early morning walkers will be less one and the chairs at the coffee house will be reset to mark the empty space.

Our condolences to Bob, Adam, Barbara, Tom, Marcie and their two children. And to Teedy and Rosie, no longer a part of a trio. Perhaps impossible, but maybe they will let me fill in at the open chair.