The Blogs: A Day for Ice Cream -- Celebrating Shlomo | Melina Kantor

It’s a day for ice cream.

I know, I know, who wants or needs more sugar after a Purim sugar high. I currently have vegetables roasting in the oven and am looking forward to them more than the ice cream.

But the weather is suddenly warm.

And more importantly, today would have been the 87th birthday of Shlomo Mansour z”l. (You can read my original tribute here.)

Shlomo loved ice cream. Particularly pistachio ice cream.

Not that I ever thought that detail didn’t matter. I’ve mentioned it before. But today, I feel like I’m beginning to understand why it matters so much.

A few days ago, my family observed my grandfather’s yahrzeit. He passed away before I was born, so I only know him through stories.

My mother made it clear to me as I was growing up that she wanted to recognize and honor his whole life, and not just the sad end.

My grandfather, who immigrated from Hungary to New York when he was in kindergarten, grew up to be a doctor.

My grandfather after the war, standing triumphantly in the window of one of Hitler’s vacation houses

In spite of the fact that quotas on Jewish students prevented him from attending an American medical school.

Even so, he was a doctor in the American army during World War II.

As the legend goes, he once performed a blood transfusion on a Nazi.

During the transfusion, he said, “This is Jewish blood you’re getting.”

Of course, there was no way he could know that. But the point is, he valued life, and he valued life enough to save the life of a Nazi.

But the point is, he valued life, and he valued life enough to save the life of a Nazi.

The same way Israeli doctors saved the life of Sinwar.

Life is a Jewish value. We pray about the “Book of Life.” We use “to life” as a toast. We use the word “life” as a name for both males and females. In fact, “life” is the first part of my Hebrew name.

After the yahrzeit, we had a three-day Purim, and had to find the fine line between celebration and horror.

But back to Shlomo. Yes, he was a survivor of the Farhoud. Yes, he was kidnapped and brutally murdered. And those stories need to be shared, told, and heard.

And.

In the 85 years he was part of this undeserving world, he led a full and vibrant life. His smile proves that. He had the beloved community of his kibbutz, his family, and loads of pistachio ice-cream.

In the 85 years he was part of this undeserving world, he led a full and vibrant life. His smile proves that. He had the beloved community of his kibbutz, his family, and loads of pistachio ice-cream.

Shlomo’s family has asked that today be a celebration of his entire life, complete with ice-cream.