Noah's Eulogy (May 2021)

I remember the excitement for a trip to St. Louis. I remember the plane taking off from BWI and landing at Lambert. I remember walking out of the terminal and seeing Grandpa Michael there, arms spread wide, running into his arms for a hug.

It’s a lucky thing, to have a grandfather there for 22 years for me, 21 for Jonathan, and 18 for Rafael. We grew up with him as a major presence in our lives, even with the distance from St. Louis to the DC area. We Skyped every week for years, a continuation of the weekly phone conversations Daddy had with him and Grandma. We could tell him about what happened in school that week, or the various performances we were rehearsing for, or even just chat about baseball and politics. When I went away to college, I tried to call St. Louis every three-to-four weeks to check in. It always felt good to hear Grandpa’s voice. I remember one time in the past year I was on the phone with him and I think he accidentally pressed the FaceTime button because suddenly we could see each other face-to-face. I hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, since his 90th birthday party, so that was wonderful.

Grandpa Michael represented connections to family around the world, in Cape Town, of course, but also Vancouver, London, Israel, and Sydney. I remember Daddy telling me stories of visiting South Africa and walking into a room full of Friedlanders. Grandpa lived in the US for over 60 years, since 1956, but he never lost his accent. I remember his particular South African pronunciation of “ba-NAH-nuh” or “to-MAH-to.” I was struck by the idea that when he left South Africa, he had to take a steamship to Bristol. Now I can use Google Street View to walk down Friedlander Street in De Aar, the town founded by his grandfather, Wulf. Grandpa Michael was a brilliant man. His doctoral research was advised by Cecil Powell, the 1950 Nobel laureate. He was one of the primary contributors to the main Astronomy article for Encyclopedia Britannica. He attended the Third International Cosmic Ray Conference, held in the Pyrenees in 1953. When I got the chance to go to the 36th ICRC in Madison two years ago, I was proud to continue that legacy.

He was a pillar of his community. Grandma and Grandpa hosted an uncountable number of dinners at their house, for immigrants newly arrived in the country attending their first seders, for family visiting from all around the world, and of course, for generations of university students. I remember at the 60th wedding anniversary party, people told story after story of the impact Grandpa had on their lives. How many of us have had our lives touched by this man? How many of us would be the people we are today if Michael Friedlander, Professor Friedlander, Padre, Grandpa, had not been part of our lives?

Most of all, I’ll remember the time we spent together, with Grandpa’s warm, comforting hand on my shoulder. He was a very funny man, always ready with a quip or a joke at the perfect moment. I loved our trips together to various places in St. Louis. The Magic House and the Arch when we were younger, and as we grew up, the History Museum and the Art Museum. And still, the Arch. There were the drives to Cahokia, climbing up Monks Mound, standing in the center of Woodhenge as he told us about the history of the site. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the baseball of course! I remember going to a game with Grandpa at the old Busch Stadium in 2005, the year it closed. Over the generations of shared St. Louis Cardinals fandom, Grandpa taught Daddy to score the games, and Daddy taught Rafael and me.

One memory that I will always carry with me is from Rafael’s bar mitzvah in October 2015. There had been a number of health scares for Grandpa earlier that year and we weren’t sure if he would be able to travel to Maryland. But he was there in the sanctuary that day. I’ll remember as Rafael carried the Torah down the aisle, singing “Rom’mu Adonai Eloheinu,” I glanced back at Grandpa Michael standing there, tears in his eyes. To get to witness his youngest grandson becoming a bar mitzvah was so meaningful to him. I will always remember this symbol of his love. I love you, Grandpa. We will all miss you.