In the Jewish Section of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery: 5, Irene Silverman

Irene (Goldberg) Silverman, “Nanny,” Labor Day 1909–May 2002

 

Irene (Goldberg) Silverman

Irene Goldberg was born in Rochester, NY, on September 4, 1909. Her parents Morris and Leah Goldberg were immigrants to the US. Her son Sam Silverman recalls, “Mom grew up in the Bronx, with seven siblings, and they all worked, no college and not much money.” Irene dropped out of sixth grade and went right to work. Always comfortable in a group of people, she shared exuberance and love of a funny story. When Bob (born Reuven) Silverman noticed her, he actively pursued her. A carpenter and also the child of immigrant parents, he was considered a “good catch” and a “good provider,” essential in the harsh economic times of the cascading depressions. Although she claimed she married Bob for the security he’d provide, they clearly were deeply attached to each other. A person who “could never sit still,” Irene devoted herself to homemaking and her three children.

Sam and his mother Irene

 

When Irene’s son Sam was 12 years old, his mother began to work outside the home, at “The Sweater Joint.” Sam says, “She was profoundly popular.” His father drove Irene to work each day and collected her at the end of her work day, and then the two of them would cook dinner together. Sam enjoyed being his mother’s helper, and observing the contrast between his parents: His mother shone in family get-togethers, keeping the laughter and the conversation going, while his father was quiet and work-focused, as well as bright and self-taught. As a youth, Bob had been valedictorian of his high school and was offered a full scholarship to college, but opted instead to join his own father’s business, building skills and finally establishing his own carpentry business.

Irene loved gatherings ... (center, Alice with drum)

 

In the 1970s, Bob’s heart disease inspired the couple to move to Hallandale, Florida. Here too, Irene worked, all the way to age 88. Sadly, Bob died 23 years before Irene, so she spent her golden years without him. Sam and his wife Alice welcomed Irene’s visits to their home in Amherst, Massachusetts, then to their home in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. When visiting here, Irene took part with her usual enthusiasm in social events; Sam especially remembers when she took part in a 50th anniversary celebration for local synagogue leaders Rosalie and Ben Harris, held at Lyndon State College. “She joined right in, and danced with her walker!”

 

Sam went to Florida in 2001 when Irene had a mini stroke and seemed saddened and alone, and he brought her back to Vermont. When this visit turned out to be shorter than first envisioned, Sam took her to Florida again, where she almost immediately experienced a mini stroke. Concerned for his mother’s health, Sam arranged for the two of them to go right back to Vermont, where Irene spent the last nine months of her life.

 

Irene’s last big celebration was a bnei mitvah for one of Nancy Frank and Jay Abramson’s children, and Sam noticed that she seemed slow. The next morning he woke with a sense of something wrong, and found that his mother had collapsed. Emergency transport took them to the local hospital, where Sam held Irene’s hand for two hours until she passed.

 

“She was a favorite of my friends,” Sam recalls now. “She was very active her whole life, and she always fit right in.”

 

Her burial stone in the Jewish section of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery includes her grandmothering name of “Nanny,” a reminder of how much she enjoyed Sam and Alice’s sons. Sam was able to visit the site almost daily for ten years, before he and Alice moved to Montpelier, and he felt the connection to his mother continue through those years, along with reflections on what an active and joyful person she had been. “She survived on her winning personality,” Sam noted. Irene gave this joy of life as an enduring memory to her family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[To read more local Jewish personal stories and history, browse the whole blog: https://jewsinvermont.blogspot.com]