Jan 12 2009
In memory of Yitz Hochstein
Last night, a good friend, Yitz Hochstein, died. He wasn’t much older than I, but it wasn’t a shock–his health had been deteriorating for a while.
Yitz was known among our local folk music community as one of our banjo players. His smiling face could be seen at almost all of our folk-music events and he was always supportive and encouraging. He loved food and cooking–if you were one of the lucky ones, you would be invited to the Hochstein’s for lunch or dinner where there would inevitably be five or six different main courses from which you could choose, each one delicious. Chinese cooking was his amazing specialty, and don’t even ask about Thanksgiving!
I first met Chana and Yitz when I moved with my then 12 and 14-year old sons to Ashdod. I had just separated from my then husband, was in dire financial shape, and was looking forward to beginning a brand-new life. Two months later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and as soon as the Hochsteins heard about it, they came knocking on my door, bringing beautifully cooked meals from the community along with unwavering friendship and support. I hadn’t asked for it; it was a no-brainer for them. It’s just how they are. Because of Chana and Yitz, throughout one of the most difficult times of my life, my refrigerator was never empty and my heart was always full.
When I think about Yitz, I remember his pride as he told me how he had studied computer science before most people knew what a computer was. I remember his funny stories about his early years on a kibbutz when he first came to Israel, how one day, the sound of gravel crunching under his feet reminded him of snow back home and made him homesick. I remember the heartwarming story of how he proposed to Chana–he said that from the moment he met her, he knew they would marry. I remember the profound, teary love in his eyes when he spoke of the birth of his first grandchild.
And that infernal banjo!
Yitz, I hope you didn’t suffer too much. I’m glad you’re not suffering any more. Because you’re gone, a part of us is gone and we will miss you forever. Farewell my friend.
