Gerry Burstain, 90, recently penned a private memoir intended for his progeny and for close friends. I am among the latter category of the memoir’s recipients.
Although healthy enough to be planning another trip to his native Israel, Burstain has faced his eventual mortality by putting together a collection of 27 anecdotal memories from his life in a thin volume titled My Life Stories. He lists himself on the cover both formally –Dr. Israel Burstain — and informally “Gerry.”
He now lives with his wife Judy in Austin, Texas, but he spent a number of years in San Diego and Escondido, where I got to know him. Because he is a native Hebrew speaker, he was often drafted by Ner Tamid Synagogue in Poway to be its Torah reader, and eventually the Conservative congregation’s president.
Until retirement, he was a chemist for Shell Oil Company, having earned his Ph,D. from UCLA. Judy’s father, Al Lieb, met Gerry in Gerry’s hometown of Petach Tikvah, and instantly took a liking to him. He arranged for Gerry’s student visa and was the guiding hand for Gerry’s marriage to Judy, a caterer.
Gerry had been studying at the well-respected Technion, but he kept getting interrupted by call backs to the nascent country’s air force, where he had served as a fighter pilot. Gerry, wanting desperately to complete his chemistry studies and get on with his life, made arrangements to complete his bachelor’s degree in Switzerland, but Lieb persuaded him to come to California instead.
The memoir consisted of questions being asked, probably by family members (he’s a great-grandfather now) and Gerry answering them with anecdotes. The first question sets the tone for some light reading. “Have you pulled any great pranks?” elicited the response that on the day of his birth, his mother wrapped him in a pink blanket and presented him to his father, who was hoping for a boy, in that he already had two daughters. When papa unwrapped the blanket, he saw the truth of the matter.
While studying at the Technion, Gerry worked part time as the pilot of a crop duster and walked away from two near disasters. Another brush with death came when doctors discovered a massive brain tumor. It turned out to be a meningioma which after surgery and rehabilitation caused no lasting harm.
We meet five generations of Gerry’s family: his parents, his siblings and wife, their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren through narrative and plentiful photographs.
I write about this personal memoir so extensively because I hope its description will inspire you to consider writing your own memoirs for the benefit of your families and friends, and perhaps, just perhaps, for inclusion in Jewish historical archives.
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Donald H. Harrison is publisher and editor of San Diego Jewish World.