Burying Jack Friedman (Part One)

The Curse of Ida Meltzer

First, a little history.

It was April, 1999, and my mother, Florence, my father’s first wife (It’s an inside joke, so if you’re new to these parts, please borrow someone’s notes before the next class), had just died. For years after her death, whenever my father would broach the subject of his own, he’d say, “I don’t care what you have to do, Ba. When I die, you get me next to your mother.”

Which is what I am talking about here.

From my book: The Joke Was on Me

I put in a call to Ida Meltzer, president, Yankef-Leibisch Family Circle, 1998-2000, who wasn’t in. I got her husband Leo, who was head of the Yankef and Leibisch Family Burial Committee (yes, incredibly, there was one). So I told him the story.

“Did you go to Sprung?” he asked.

Sprung has, since 1926, been the Yankef and Leibish Family go-to monument company.

“No.”

“What kind of headstone you get?”

“It’s desert rose.”

“What? What’s that?”

“Mauve?”

“Who?”

“Pink. It’s pink, Leo.”

Silence.

“Well, I can’t OK that,” he said. “You must talk to Ida to get such a thing approved.”