When my cell phone rang again and again early on August 16, I thought, can’t they call back later; it’s summer vacation; I’d like to sleep another half an hour. But my cell phone doesn’t usually ring so early, so I quickly said Modeh Ani, washed netilas yadayim, and ran to pick it up.
“Is this Danielle Storch?” the officialsounding voice on the other end of the line asked.
“Yes” I replied as I blinked my eyes.
“This is Dr. Fitzpatrick from Northwest Hospital, and you are listed as family for Mr. Alan Garfield. I’m afraid to tell you that he passed away this morning.”
Passed away! I got that dreaded feeling in my stomach, and I began to cry.
“How are you all related to him?” I heard the doctor say.
“He was like one of our family,” I told her – and it was true.
Our family got to know Mr. Alan, as my family called him, as a frequent guest at our Shabbos table. When he arrived, Mr. Alan would always seek out our children right away, greeting them with love and conversation. They simply loved him. He was the only person who could beat our 9-year-old in Rummikub, and he knew just what to say to our son to get him to converse for a few minutes straight. Mr. Alan had two daughters of his own whom he loved very much. He carried pictures of them around in his wallet, and proudly shared them.
Mr. Alan knew how to relate to both young and old. On another occasion, when my 101-year-old grandfather, a”h, a retired physician, was living with us, Mr. Alan came by and spoke with him on a very deep level. My grandfather enjoyed his company and the intellectual conversation. We used to joke that Mr. Alan would win on Jeopardy because he seemed to know something about every topic.
I think we originally met Mr. Alan at a singles event that we hosted quite a few years ago. Since then, we used to see him at work, about once a week, when we’d inevitably end up in Seven Mile, shopping for our Shabbos food. We were drawn to the fish counter to say hello to Mr. Alan, and, of course, to play with the mechanical talking fish that he placed on the counter. Mr. Garfield used to work behind the fish counter at the old Seven Mile Market, where he greeted customers with a radiant smile, and a blessing or two.
Mr. Alan was an incredibly deep and spiritual person. To most of Baltimore, he was simply, “the fish guy who worked at Seven Mile.” To our family and to those who really knew him, Mr. Alan (Reb Etzik, in Hebrew) was “the Holy Fish Man” and a spiritual giant. He radiated light with the love of Hashem and the Jewish people from behind the counter. Few knew of Mr. Alan’s spirituality, but those who did, took advantage and sought his advice. He would comfort the elderly, uplift the loney, and make children smile.
But that was not all. Mr. Alan carried serious life challenges. He had many physical illnesses, yet it seemed as if he hadn’t a problem in the world. His smile was as large as that of a person who just heard about a simcha. At one point, Mr. Alan took off from his job to have a bladder removal operation. He had a heart condition that required him to have bypass surgery, and, towards the end of his life, his severe case of diabetes required Mr. Alan to have dialysis three times a week. What do you think was his response to these illnesses, along with the other amazing number of challenges that he faced on a daily basis? Mr. Alan thanked Hashem!
Once, when I was at the fish counter, after Mr. Alan returned from his medical leave, I noticed that he was limping. I asked him if he was feeling alright, and he responded that any pain he felt was a kappara (atonement) for him and for klal Yisrael.
As he wrapped a piece of fish, Mr.Alan looked at me and said, “I’m carrying
the sins of klal Yisrael. I accept this upon myself.” Not only was Mr. Alan carrying his heavy load for the sake of klal Yisrael, he did it with a smile on his face.
On another occasion, while I ordered my salmon slices at the fish counter, I asked Mr. Alan how he was able to smile given the vast amount of pain in his life. “My face is public property,” Mr. Alan replied. “If I smile, I am giving joy to someone else. Why should I not smile?”
Mr. Alan served fish that tasted extraordinary. It was only during shiva that Mr. Alan’s chavrusa shared with us that Mr. Alan davened for the fish to taste good and for those who ate it to have shalom bayis and bracha. I know that whenever I saw Mr. Alan hand over a package of fish to a customer, he always handed it over with a bracha, stating, “Take it home and enjoy it!”
Mr. Alan handled his suffering if it eased another’s pain. Not so long ago, he heard that a bar mitzva boy’s father, who did not have custody of his son, would not be able to attend his son’s bar mitzva without a “shomer” to escort him. The boy’s father was not planning to attend, since it was too complicated to find someone to “watch” him and to write a report back to the court. The bar mitzva boy was very upset, and threatened not to attend his own bar mitzva without his father there. Mr. Alan heard this story one erev Shabbos, right after returning from dialysis. Even though he was physically exhausted, and he usually needed about six hours in bed to recover from his dialysis, Mr. Alan, forgoing his own need to rest, volunteered to attend all three of the long, festive bar mitzva meals on that Shabbos. Mr. Alan did not want the boy to suffer the pain of not having his own father attend his bar mitzva. When people asked how he was related to the bar mitzvah boy, Mr. Alan simply responded that he was a friend. Mr. Alan wrote up the required report for the court, and everything went smoothly with this visit. Yes, Mr. Alan was a true friend of this boy, even though the boy didn’t know him at all.
Mr. Alan always spoke of Mashiach’s arrival. He waited for it on a daily basis, and he spoke of our return to Eretz Yisrael, where we would be gathering for the final redemption. In one of the last conversations I had with Mr. Alan, he told me that we were so close to the final redemption, and that he could feel that it would be very soon. May his prayers for redemption come true, and may we be reunited with Mr. Alan, Reb Etzik ben Eliezer, in the third Bais Hamikdash, soon! May his neshama have an aliya.â—†
Postscript: During the shiva (that we hosted at our home) Mr. Alan’s mom, brother, sister, and daughter were so grateful for the outpouring of love and caring that the community showered upon them. It was a real kiddush Hashem.
