Jerry W. Savitt

December 4th, 2022

Dad was in interested and interesting man. He championed the underdog, even providing security for Martin Luther King in the 60’s and encouraged my sisters and I to give back to our communities. He served as a trustee in Glencoe. Also, while in Glencoe he was in the Human Relations Committee. In Mission Hills and Sedgebrook, he was elected to their governing boards several times. He volunteered for years in the ER at Evanston hospital and at CASA. While at CASA he spoke of the importance of books in children’s lives. First buying them with his own money, later going on to identify funding sources.

He found great comfort in his religion. He was so happy at Beth Judea. He enjoyed the inclusiveness of the congregation. Dad was so appreciative of Bruce Darin and the others that volunteered to pick him up or drop him off every Saturday so that he could attend schul. He often shared with my sisters and I parts of the service he found interesting at jokes and stories that the men shared at lunch.

Humor was very important to Dad. He enjoyed playing pranks starting in childhood. As an adult, Dad always had a “cute story” to tell. His cute stories were often xrated and inappropriate, but always told with love and a laugh.
He took me to baseball games, the circus, and on some Saturday nights down to Skokie to get fresh bagels. They smelled so good! Also Saturday after Shabbat he made Appian way pizzas.

We played catch in the back yard, throwing harder each time until one of us, usually me, cried uncle. Dad grew up in the Bronx and never learned to ride a bike as a kid. When we lived in Glencoe he decided to try to learn how. I remember sitting with my sisters and the neighbor kids, picking which tree he would hit with each attempt. Our parents finally bought a tandem so that we could sit in front and steer while he sat in back and supplied power.

One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was the day that Dad showed up at our door and offered to babysit so that I could go to the grocery all by myself. That alone time was such a precious gift.

Dad was a genuinely nice man. He didn’t complain, often downplaying the seriousness of his injury. Like the time he almost bled out, but he called it just a little blood blister that popped. Or when he called and said he had fallen, and his leg was a little twisted. That twist was a displaced fracture of his femur. We were warned after he was diagnosed with dementia that he might get nasty, but he never did. He was sweet and polite for as long as he could talk. The nurses and caregivers took amazing care of their boyfriend. Laughing at his jokes and appreciating his sense of humor. My sisters and I are eternally grateful for their amazing care.
Dad lived a long and amazing life. We are all so glad that he no longer suffering and has joined his beloved Barb

~Terri
~daughter, MUNDELEIN

November 23rd, 2022

I have so many memories of my Grandpa, as I have known him my whole life. My most recent memory was of saying goodbye to him when I went back to Chicago with my brother, last November. None of us would have guessed that he’d live a whole other year, yet he did, always reminding us that only the good die young. My mom hated when he said that, but I thought it was in keeping with his wry, sarcastic, and generally crass sense of humor. He tried to make light of a situation that was most certainly hard to bear; outliving his spouse by many more years and suffering a slow decline in his health. As far as I could tell, both when I saw him last, and from his daughters reports, he never complained about the events of these last years without Barb or the many, many challenges to his health. Instead he offered his humorous observations and, as the end neared, commentary that left us wondering exactly where part of his consciousness was residing; not completely in this world, yet still here in some ways, too. When my brother and I said our goodbyes last year, it was during the height of Covid. The home he lived in required us to wear masks and face shields, armoring us against bringing the threats of the outside world into his tiny room. We spent hours sitting on the couch, watching football, asking him questions that he desperately wanted to answer but couldn’t find the words to complete sentences in response. There was a piano player that visited the home, playing familiar tunes from musicals of his era. He faithfully sang along with the lyrics, etched in his brain from sixty years ago. He couldn’t answer questions about the current 2021 world’s disturbing pandemic reality, yet he was uplifted and carried away by the sounds of South Pacific, or some such musical. Dan will remember the exact one. He hummed and sang lyrics with precision, offering us a glimpse into the recesses of his mind that still remembered everything, the part of him that lived on as youthful, dapper, freshly shaven and anointed with cologne, attending the theater with Barb on his arm. Through the grief of his current reality, he was singing, finding a joyful memory to hold onto, a place to put his mind at ease, despite the physical pain and confusion. I imagine the next year after Dan and I said goodbye held a lot of suffering, yet I am comforted to remember his capacity to joke and sing, in spite of the circumstances. I pray that Grandpa Jerry’s spirit is at peace now, having walked through the threshold of death. I thank him for the ancestral inheritance of endurance, humor, song, and strength. I’m also remembering him for the admirable capacity he generated for forgiveness and open-mindedness. In his long life, he was challenged by his daughters’ unconventional choices and eventually found a willingness to embrace them. Subsequently, when presented with even more unconventional grandchildren, he met us with unconditional support and consistency, no doubt cultivated by allowing himself to learn and grow in relationship with his daughters. I imagine it must be easier to find curiosity and awe in your grandchildren, rather than worry or stress. Despite the fact that he couldn’t brag about me becoming a doctor or lawyer and that he probably had no idea or context for the radical choices I made and what I was actually doing, I never felt judged by him. He never challenged me with the question that comes veiled in many forms but means, directly: How will you make money? What status and recognition will you have from that choice? Instead, our interactions were always rooted in the present. An inappropriate joke that made me cringe as a teenager, an observation about the weather in Chicago, or whatever part of the country where I was currently living, or a “cute” story. Never probing or intrusive questioning into the future that I still can’t pin down and define. Even though our conversations were few and did not dwell into the deep philosophical questions my mind prefers, I remember them now with the kindness he imbued by keeping them contained in the present moment, in a space of relatability and without pressure for me to define myself in terms he could understand. In a world that often demands we contort ourselves into unnatural shapes for the comfort of others, on this almost thanksgiving day, I give thanks to that quality of “you do you” that Grandpa offered to our relationship. On a final note, I can’t forget to include his vast and impressive collection of sweaters in my memories. Now that I live in a cold place, I can only aspire to indulge in my longing for sweaters for every occasion (and more) the way that he did! Love you, Grandpa!

~Rachel Stermer
~Grandaughter, Santa Fe

November 23rd, 2022

Jerry and Barbara will always be in our fondest memories. We were very close friends all of our lives. We were ‘Framily’ which is even BETTER THAN family. We shared many great times in St. Louis and in Florida with them. We have only the best of memories. We have a special place in our heart for you entire family each and every one of you adorable daughters were also part of our conversations and how they loved you so much. Stay well we love you. Uncle Frank and aunt evie

~Frank and Evelyn Ginsberg
~Framily, St. Louis, Missouri

November 23rd, 2022

Wonderful friend over 70 years

~Jeanine mamroth
~Friend, St. Louis mo

November 23rd, 2022

I have known Jerry and the family for 50 years—I have so many fond memories of all of you. Jerry was a fun guy—I remember he took me out to dinner at Chi-Chi’s in Des Moines when he was travelling through on business. Supporting his stock interest in the restaurant chain! He had a fun sense of humor. RIP Jerry.

~Levitt
~Friend of family, Easton, CT