A Refugee’s Secret Act of Kindness

Isaaco was almost four when his parents fled Italy in 1939. His parents had moved from Poland to Milan 15 years earlier when his father was given a coveted post as Cantor of the Sephardic synagogue. The family’s years in Milan had been idyllic but then Mussolini came to power and everything changed.

Isaaco was the youngest of three children and he was close with his sister Hinda and his brother David. They came to America by boat with no friends and no knowledge of English. There was no use complaining; they were happy to get out of Europe alive.

Isaaco became Isaac and he integrated successfully into American society. He went to college and got a degree in education. He was drafted into the National Guard and got up early in the morning to put on his tefillin and say his prayers. He'd trade any non-kosher rations for an extra loaf of bread. Isaac Kinek married Shirley a wonderful woman, they settled in Baltimore and had two adorable little girls who he treated with love and devotion, infusing them with Jewish values and speaking Yiddish at every opportunity. Isaac became an accomplished special educator and administrator in the public school system.

Isaac and Shirley Kinek

Despite his success, he never forgot what it was like to be a refugee. He was always on the lookout for any down and out refugee who might wander into shul. The Yiddish of his youth came in handy since many people coming from Russia or the FSU spoke no English, but the older ones remembered the Yiddish they were raised in.

Isaac's mantra in forging new relationships was : “Fun vannen kumt ah Yid? Where does a Jew come from?” The refugees appreciated the unexpected attention and concern. They couldn't get over this soft-spoken man with perfect Yiddish who showered them with affection and showed them how to pray and put on tefillin, things that were unheard of for people brought up as Communists.

Isaac began driving these new friends to doctor's appointments, providing critical translations which ensured the proper treatment and medication. He invited the refugees over for Shabbat and holiday meals. He drove them around on Sunday trips to see the countryside and pretend they were on a fancy vacation.

One day one of them called Isaac up and asked him to come to the house right away. Isaac got nervous and rushed over, only to find that the man had gathered his friends in the living room just to meet this Yiddish-speaking American who helped others. Isaac was so embarrassed at his sudden celebrity.

Isaac’s now- grown daughters who have families of their own were proud of their father and the kindness and care he gave to others. But there were kindnesses Isaac never revealed to his girls. That changed two weeks ago when Isaac passed away on Shabbat after battling a three-month illness.

Right after his passing, Isaac’s wife revealed a secret that he never wanted anyone to know. She told her two daughters, one of them is my lovely wife. Here’s the rest of the story:

My father-in-law would always go food shopping with Mom. One day he got extra eggs, bread and milk.

There was no hiding anything from Mom. “Isaac, why are you getting more than we need?”

He explained that Sasha, one of the refugees, was undernourished. He didn't have enough to eat, so Dad wanted to help him out. She was immediately on board, proud that her husband was so caring.

“But I don't want to give him a handout,” Isaac explained. “I don't want to embarrass him.”

“So what will you do?”

Dad was lost in thought. At last, a solution formed in his mind that his wife approved.

Mr. Isak (no relation), a Holocaust survivor, was the sexton of the shul Dad went to. One of his jobs was to arrange the food for the third meal on Shabbat served at the synagogue. It was simple fare.

Dad brought the food before Shabbat and told Mr. Isak to keep it in the fridge over Shabbat. After Shabbat was over, Mr. Isak approached Sasha on cue, and said, “Sasha, we have extra food leftover. Can you do me a favor and take it?”

It worked like a charm. Sasha was overjoyed with the windfall. “How will I get this home?”

“I'll drive you,” said Dad to Sasha, with a surreptitious wink at Mr. Isak.

This went on for years, with Sasha never wondering why the shul consistently overbought food. Mission accomplished: much-needed food given in a dignified manner, with as few people knowing about it as possible.

My father-in-law taught us to be sensitive to others, especially to the outsiders, the underdogs, the refugees like he used to be.

He has left enormous shoes to fill.