‘Eau de Popsie’: By Senior Editor Ida Meister


 

            Eau de “Popsie "

 

Father’s Day is on our heels once more .

I think of my late father- Robert Saul Adams- and exclaim :

 Now there was a man who never broke a sweat !”

It’s true; he was the most naturally clean-smelling man I ever met …

 

But my beloved memories are those of my Popsie, Isaac- aka- Ike Cohen, my mother’s father, who lived with us.

 

Popsie left Minsk at age two, when he emigrated to the infamously impoverished  Whitechapel district of Queen Victoria’s London.

He came to Ellis Island in 1900 at the age of fourteen, with one of his younger brothers Jacob [who became the first Orthodox Jewish cowboy veterinarian for the U.S. government’s horses !].

 

 

 

 

Ike brought all his olfactory memories with him; cherished Eastern European delicacies he shared with me, in the early hours before anyone else had risen for the day.

 

“Dye-dee-dye-dee dye-dye…you’re my palsy-walsy-galsy”

 

Ike would croon in a tuneless niggun, as he smoothed out yesterday’s New York Daily News on the kitchen tabletop.

“That’s all this Scheisse is fit for !  Smoked whitefish ! “

 

Popsie lovingly spread out the chubs on the newsprint; he didn’t want to ‘stink up the dishes’ with it.

“That’s how we ate fish and chips “ he nodded, deftly pouring two inches of  hot black coffee into a large glass filled with milk and sugar.

The aroma of smoked fish, sweet milky java, and piping hot toast filled my sleepy nostrils.

Under the broiler, the ‘toast’ was bubbling with fresh Muenster cheese, Popsie’s specialty.

 

 

 

 

“Jack the Ripper caught a kipper “ he chortled, as he lay our feast on the paper; I clambered up his stalwart leg, and seated myself on his knee, nuzzling his well-shaved chin.

It smelled of Palmolive Brushless Shave Cream, and a drop or two of British Sterling

Soapy, faintly spicy / musky, with an ambery warmth about it.

 

Popsie had been failing for awhile; he’d had several successive heart attacks [ at home], and I was responsible for most of his care.As a result of poor cerebral blood flow, he was dementing at a rapid rate.

He had awakened me at 2 am that morning, in order to shave him with his straight-edge Wilkinson sword blade and strop; there was NO refusing him.

 

“What if I cut your throat ?” I timidly appealed.

“ Don’t worry. It’s been a good life“, he good-naturedly retorted.

 

I lathered up the fluffy old badger brush, still redolent of the musky, animalic  bristles with which it was made, and the creamy, mild- scented soap [ which can best be described as smelling faintly of both olives and clean babies’ bottoms ] .

 

 

 

 

Popsie lives on in my memory to this very day; he’s my guardian angel, and our first-born bears his name.

No one will ever move me as he did.

He taught me how to live- and how to die.

Rest well, Besherteleh.

 

Ida Meister, Sr. Editor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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12 comments

  • Madelyn E says:

    Dear Ida,
    This scented tribute is befitting a king albeit your beloved grandpa or popsie. I see he must have had quite an influence on you with his zest for livimg , his humor, his mysic and his heart .
    What a man.
    This was a beautiful reminiscence as usual. ~~
    We might be relatives as my maternal geandmother's family's name was Minsker .
    Who knows?

  • Beautifully written…I hardly knew either of my Grandfathers . One died before I was born , the other  a serious German I could never talk to…my Father on the other hand , is my hero , and we are very close .
    thank you Ida !

  • A beautifully written ode to popsie.  His sense of humor was charming.  I like the idea he wore a couple of drops of British Sterling.  Good memories I am sure.  I had 3 grandfathers and 2 were deceased before I was born and the other grandfather died when I was still a baby.  You were very fortunate to have had a great one.  Thank you for sharing Ida.

  • Wonderfully warm and witty at the same time – yes you inherited a lot from him, including the relishing of good food and the funny twists of life.  Bravo.

  • Ida, you have put into words the emotions so many of us feel for our grand-fathers; for me my zeide.
    Thank you for sharing such precious and beautiful memories and stories.

  • Thank you so much for this spirited, loving remembrance, Ida. I love the interchange between the two of you when he wakes you up to shave him!! A good life, indeed….

  • vidalicious says:

    My dear Senelis was a fisherman, and always smelled of diesel boat engines and fish…and never a drop of cologne… I kinda like your grandpa scent memories better!!!

  • chayaruchama says:

    Thank you all- I've so loved learning  about your families, all the precious moments of your own lives you were so generous and open-handed with !
    Manna to me.
    I 'm so grateful to MC for the wonderful Chagall [ so right, as our ethnicities and empathies match ! ], And Dawn for her Dirty Rose [ I went hog-wild for it , when I first sniffed!]…
    Ike was really all I had; there's no other way to put it. [ Everyone else had passed.]
    I cared for him from age 6 to 12; I bathed, cooked, shaved him.  I didn't know any differently.
    I thought everyone lived this way…
    He is the voice of humor and reason  for me, in a world which seems so often bereft of both.
    I hope you all have tender Father's Days, replete with fond remembrances which nourish you.