The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

Today is the 18^th Yahrzeit of my beloved father-in-law, Binyamin Zev ben Shlomo Herzka, known to all as Willi Herzka.

Born in Vienna in 1930, he was separated from his parents before he was ten and sent to England to live with non-Jewish families and in an orphanage for Jewish children whose parents remained under the Nazi boot.

Great Britain allowed some Jewish children to enter the country; however, not their parents, and therefore, he was without the love, support, and security of his parents as he grew to adulthood.

His Bar Mitzvah was celebrated in an orphanage as he remained alone without knowing if his parents were even alive.

After his parents spent time in Bergen Belsen, he was miraculously reunited with them after the war.

He immigrated to these shores with his parents and settled in the Washington Heights neighborhood in Manhattan.

Soon after, he was inducted into the American army and proudly served his newly adopted country during the Korean War.

However, despite all his hardships and tribulations, he was never bitter and was always upbeat and happy.

After his military service and marriage to my mother-in-law, he set up a business that initially repaired televisions and radios and eventually morphed into air conditioning service and repair.

My father-in-law was a gentle soul.

He did his best to help people who needed help and reach out to others who needed encouragement.

Often, bills were never collected, or the amount he charged was minuscule considering the work performed.

He davened in a small Shteibel known as Rabbi Wiesel's Shul for many years.

My father-in-law made sure everyone in the Shul had a Chumash for laining.

He would go around the Shul and make sure everyone had a Chumash.

During the laining, he insisted on total silence.

Besides the Kavod HaTorah, there was also Kavod Beis Adam L'Chaverio, which was connected to the laining.

The Baal Koreh of this Heimish Shteibel was a Moroccan Jew. Being amongst Polish and Hungarian Jews, he felt compelled to lain in the Ashkenazi pronunciation.

My father-in-law, who knew firsthand the pain of being an outsider, took great pains to ensure that Rabbi Portal, the Baal Korah, was treated with respect and that all listened to his laining.

That was my father-in-law.

He never forgot the feeling of loneliness he experienced being brought up in a non-Jewish home, not knowing if his parents were even alive.

He was very protective of Mr. Portal and ensured everyone showed him the proper respect and dignity he deserved.

Always thinking about others and placing their needs above his own- that was his creed.

The final time I visited him in the hospital, he asked everyone in the room to step out.

He said he had to talk to me privately.

I could not imagine what deep, dark secret he wanted to disclose.

As everyone exited the room and we were alone, he whispered, "I know you'll officiate at my funeral. Please, make sure it does not go over 45 minutes."

He did not want my mother-in-law to endure a long, drawn-out funeral.

That was my father-in-law.

He lived his life with one goal: "What can I do to make someone's life better?"

They don't make them like that anymore.