This is a memorial page for my father, Bernard Garber. He passed away this July after a six-week struggle with complications from heart surgery. If you have any additional comments about him or photographs you would like to see on this site, please email me. I would be very happy to add them.

Jim Garber:

I was thinking a lot lately about the special gifts that my father, Bernie Garber, gave to me in the 52 years that I have known him.

Yesterday, my young nephew Joe and I spoke about his grandfather. He said that he believed that a person lives into the next generation and that Grandpa would live on.

I agree with Joe especially in the case of my Dad. I believe that in his interactions with people he often made a profound difference in their lives. In his own quiet way he affected people and that way his spirit is incarnated in them.

Above everything, to me he was an excellent teacher — both by his direct instruction and by the examples of his own life.

I am not entirely sure whether it is the DNA I inherited from him or my yearning to acquire his admirable traits but I do find myself thinking of him and therefore thinking like him. I know I try to have his positive attitude toward life with that proverbial glass being considerably more than half-full. And I do believe that I have, at least in part, his subtle but gentle sense of humor. I may even have a small bit of that bowling chromosome, you never know...

On the other hand, I strive for that dedicated patience that I saw in him. In so many ways he was a natural teacher with an equal love for learning. I recall his seemingly infinite patience with me as a child — teaching me to ride a bike, helping me build a wood project or teaching me to drive. On the other hand, I also recall at my young age, having the ability to summon up his temper which I know now was not the easiest thing to do and one aspect of his that few folks witnessed.

He had an equal love for learning and self-improvement. Many folks do not know, for instance, that he spent a year or two learning to play the banjo. He took lessons and would dutifully go down to the basement and plink away, slowly and deliberately. He knew that he would never be all that good but he so enjoyed the process of learning and attempting to play music.

He loved working with his hands. His house, aside from his family, was his pride and joy. He designed and built many of the built-ins in that house. and finished the basement entirely by himself. I have always admired his abilities and his carpentry skills.

He was a naturally intelligent man. He once told me that he could not afford to go to college when he was young, but had he the opportunity he would have gone to Cooper Union and studied architecture. I am sure that he would have been a great architect.

He also had a great love for children and they for him. I remember coming home from college one time, being surprised that many of the neighborhood 3 year olds were ringing my father's doorbell, asking to play with Bernie.

I also learned from my Dad what it is to have a long and constant love for one person, in his case for my mother. It was during one long car ride with my father that he related me the story of the tumultuous times in his childhood when it was revealed in his family that his father had had an affair outside of the marriage. In those days, divorces were frowned upon and the transgression was settled by an intra-family tribunal.

In one of his rare moments of candor with me, Dad told me of his traumatic experience as a nine-year-old being woken up to the screaming and yelling in the kitchen as the fate of his parents was decided by the family court.

I believe that from that time on my father vowed to be constant and true and he never wavered from that love for Norma, my mother, his wife of 55 years. Even on his convalescent bed in the hospital, he ordered me to find a blanket for her when he perceived her as being cold.

Over and over, in speaking to the many folks whose lives he touched, I heard the same description of my father: "not a bad bone in his body"; "he would not hesitate to help in any way he could"; "a heart of gold;" "Bernie was always there the moment I needed him."

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons and examples he gave to me was this truly genuine goodheartedness, his strong desire for helping others. He never was a man to talk endlessly about his own feelings. He showed those feelings through his selfless actions to the people he loved and to those who in turn loved him.

Emily Garber:

I've never really thought that rewards for a good life come in Heaven. But in the last few days I've come to believe that if there is a reward, it definitely comes in the legacy one leaves on Earth.

My father began life without much monetary wealth but managed to succeed: live very comfortably, travel extensively, send his children to elite and expensive colleges, and help us when we needed financial boosts. The lessons learned from that history could be a legacy in itself. But that's not the important legacy of Bernie Garber.

His legacy includes chasing around the neighborhood for a friend with Alzheimer's who had wandered from home. Traveling across the miles many times to New Jersey, Massachusetts and California to attend all the family simchas and funerals. Visiting friends at their low points in life. Being good buddies with all the three year olds on the street. Making up stories on the spot for his grandchildren, such as "Cowboy Joe and Big Bad Bernie." Made all the more difficult because one such original story was never enough!

My mother and my brother and I have always known that my father was a good and incredibly generous man. And it's been so rewarding during the last month and the last few days to hear confirmation of that from so many friends and family.

My Dad never let the complications of his life get in the way of doing seemingly small yet ultimately meaningful things for others. What a legacy! We've got a lot to live up to.

Steve Wilson:

When I was young, I learned about a strong and honorable work ethic from my father, and from my uncle Bernie. From time to time, I would spend the day at Oakdale, the knitting mill business owned by our family in Brooklyn. During the course of the day, my father would rotate me throughout different sections of the factory. Sometimes I worked with Bernie. Most of the time, we worked in the warehouse, moving around and organizing heavy cartons of yarn, or finished goods. It was very hard work because Bernie worked very hard.

But what I remember most, was his cheerful disposition. He was happy, easy-going, laughed a lot, and really enjoyed what he was doing, as well as being around the many people working there. In later years, as I grew into adulthood, I would keep in touch from time to time. He always seemed to maintain that friendly easy-going demeanor.

I was always glad to hear that he kept up with his bowling, even during the last few years. He made it a priority to enjoy life.

Knowing my cousins, his children Jim and Emily, I know that both Bernie and his surviving wife Norma have both been a loving couple and terrific parents. Bernie was a wonderful man, and I'll miss him a lot.