Join The Conversation With Mishpacha's Weekly Newsletter



Legacy of Laughter

Malkie Schulman

If there was one way to characterize Shami (Shlomtzion) Reinman, who passed away last month at age 64, it’s that she was adored by everyone she came in contact with. For Shami, it was a thrill to dress up in a funny costume, to sing and make jokes, to create joy. That love of laughter and simchah defined her, from the time she was a young child to the pain-racked days at the end of her life.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Raised in Boro Park, Shami came from a rebbishe family, descending on both sides from great chassidic rebbes. Her joie de vivre came from her parents, Rabbi Esriel and Mrs. Chanala Rubin. Rabbi Rubin was a gentle man who imparted life lessons by how he lived, relates Shami’s daughter Devoiry Follman. A chazzan who davened for the amud every Rosh Hashanah in Blushev, he taught his children to harmonize at a young age; his eyes would crinkle with joy when they sang together. Rabbi Rubin loved humor and would encourage his children to find laughter in every situation. Whenever anyone would crack a joke, he would rate it on his personal “laughing meter” from zero to ten. Perhaps the most poignant lesson of all came when Rabbi Rubin tragically lost his beautiful singing voice to throat cancer in his 60s. He wouldn’t allow his inability to sing to steal his joy of Shabbos zemiros — he would click with his tongue to the beat, eyes shining with delight. Shami was also close to her mother, a lively woman full of spunk and, like her well-matched husband, humor. The mother-daughter duo would speak several times daily. If Shami didn’t call one day, she’d get a message pulled from the famousMosheYess song: “Go call your mother, you were only given one, please call your mother, you will never never have another. Please call your mom....” Even as a child, Shami was tenacious and persistent. The ideal she lived by was that problems were there to be solved — you only needed to look hard enough for the solution. Her generosity was also well known. “When my mother was seven, she came home from camp with an empty trunk,” shares Devoiry. “ ‘Where are your clothes?’ my grandmother asked. Turns out my mother had given them to a poor girl in her bunk.” 

To read the rest of this story, please buy this issue of Mishpacha or sign up for a weekly subscription

Share this page with a friend. Fill in the information below, and we'll email your friend a link to this page on your behalf.

Your name
Your email address
You friend's name
Your friend's email address
Please type the characters you see in the image into the box provided.
CAPTCHA
Message


 
Drink to Eternity
Rabbi Moshe Grylak Redemption doesn’t simply mean being let out of jail
Klal Yisrael Is Always Free
Yonoson Rosenblum "In that merit will Klal Yisrael continue to exist”
Home Free
Eytan Kobre My baseline for comparison is admittedly weak
Believe in Your Own Seder
Rabbi Judah Mischel Hashem is satisfied when we do our best
Picture Perfect
Yisroel Besser Take a picture — and this time, send it to yourself
Flying Solo
Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman As Pesach loomed closer, his resentment was growing
Hanging on by a Hair
Jacob L. Freedman MD “Do you still think that I’m not completely crazy?”
A Song for Every Season
Riki Goldstein Influencers map out their personal musical soundtracks
Subliminal Speech
Faigy Peritzman The deeper the recognition, the deeper the effect
The Big Change
Sarah Chana Radcliffe Spelling things out clears clouds of resentment
The Count-Up
Mrs. Shani Mendlowitz Tap the middos of Sefirah to recreate yourself
The Baker: Part 1
D. Himy, M.S. CCC-SLP with Zivia Reischer "She can't get married if she can't build a relationship...
Know This: Infertility
As Told to Bracha Stein There was no place for me. I didn’t belong
Dear Shadchan
The Girl Here's the thing: I need time