Part 2: Ten Years Later: A Miracle Woman's Almost 114 Year-Long Life Continues to Inspire Faith in G-d

Read about the Divine Providence in my grandmother’s life, and strengthen your faith.

BS”D

Her birth certificate (a 1978-government-supplied copy of the 1899 original.)

With siblings in front of their house on Farragut Rd. on the day of her sister’s wedding.

Bubby in Prospect Park, around 1920.

If you were intrigued by Part 1 and want to know more about my grandmother’s fascinating life story, here is an article I wrote in 2013, right after her passing, which appeared in the newspaper Yated Ne’eman. It contains lots of interesting stories. (I left the Hebrew phrases basically intact here, and included most of the published article.)

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“BUBBY”

In Memory Of Evelyn (Chava Rivka) Jacobson Kozak

For the last three years of her life, Mrs. Evelyn Kozak was called “Bubby” by virtually everyone who came in contact with her, so that is how she is referred to in this article.

It is with disbelief that I am writing these words. Bubby was almost 114 years old. Strange as it may sound if you did not know her, we fully expected to have her for at least another few years. Everyone who was familiar with her felt the same way, too. Bubby was a miracle woman; Hashem had different rules for her, not according to nature. She always pulled through, no matter the odds - she wasn’t “al pi derech hateva.” She experienced Techiyas HaMeisim twice - so why should a heart attack hurt her? But Hashem had decided to bring this exalted Neshama to Him, so all our davening and tzedaka did not change that.

​Bubby was born August 14, Ches Elul, 1899. (This year, in another two months, her English and Hebrew birthdays -#114 - are due to coincide.) It was always great shock value when speaking to some office or agency, to say “1899”. People thought they heard wrong; it was so much fun.

She was born at home, on the Lower East Side of New York City, 379 Broome Street. Her parents were the great Baalei Chesed, R’ Yair (Isaac J.) and Kaila (Chaikin) Jacobson (originally Zherebtchevsky), who had emigrated from Nezhin, Ukraine, in 1886. There were widespread pogroms at that time in Russia, and tens of thousands of Jews fled. We all know the nisyonos of the time - the pressure to melt into the melting pot, the lack of jobs which did not require Shabbos work, the crushing poverty.

Yet R’ Yair and Kaila remained religious, and raised their nine children that way. R’ Yair never once worked on Shabbos. Instead, he was, at first, a peddler selling goods in Pennsylvania. Then he started his own cardboard hat box factory and eventually became a very wealthy man and a great philanthropist.

​Bubby was the 6^th of 10 children, 5 girls and 5 boys. (However, prior to her birth, her 2 year old sister Miriam died when she pulled a boiling hot pot of soup onto herself R”l.)

​To tell the countless stories Bubby always told over about her parents, and which shaped her own life, would require a book. I will mention just a few.

​R’ Yair treated his workers like family members. If someone came late or even stole from him, he gave instructions not to deduct from their salary. “She is poor and needs the money,” he would say. He gave his employees gifts on the occasion of having a baby or moving to a new home. They felt like he was their father, and gathered at his house every Sunday.

​R’ Yair had special feelings towards the poor and orphaned, having been in that position himself. He allowed a homeless man to sleep in the basement of his hat box factory. He was a large donor to the “Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Society” orphanage and supported many other destitute people. We will never know the full extent of his tzedaka, but we are aware that R’ Yair regularly sent money back to Russia to support his wife’s sister Hoda, who had about 16 children and could not afford dowries for her daughters.  We also know that when R’ Yair died, older Yidden came to the house, and told the children “veint kinder veint, far aza Tatten, ken men veinen”. These people were not related, but had their clothes ripped in mourning. Someone in the family said that R’ Yair had been supporting them for years. There is also a record of him sending money to Jews in Iran struck by a famine.

​Another incident illustrating her father’s extreme thoughtfulness and compassion came to light when Bubby (employed by her father in the factory as a young teenager) went to a certain client. Upon introducing herself as Mr. Jacobson’s daughter, Mr. Gimbelman became very excited and called in his brother. They related that when they first started their printing business, R’ Yair made sure to patronize them. One day, they got a check in the mail for $200 (that would be thousands of dollars today). They immediately called Mr. Jacobson. “You don’t owe us any money, why did you send us a check?” To which her father answered “Listen, boys, tell me, do you have enough for payroll today?” They admitted they did not. “That’s why I sent it”. To which Bubby added “He wanted Gimbelman’s employees to have money to buy food for Shabbos”.

​To illustrate the level of frumkeit her parents maintained in those early days, when America was a spiritual wasteland, we have many examples, fascinating from a historical perspective as well.

​R’ Yair co-founded (with his wife’s sister’s husband, R’ Pinchas Wisser) a shul on the Lower East Side, Tzemach Tzedek Nusach Ari, in which he remained active (even after he moved away) for the rest of his life. The Shul still exists today, at another location, 241 East Broadway.

They moved to Flatbush in about 1907, buying a home at 2816 Farragut Road - which her father purchased for $10,000 in gold coins in a red velvet sack, as Bubby described. Jews were “not allowed” in the neighborhood then, and there were no Shuls nearby. R’ Yair therefore acquired two Sifrei Torah, and people would come daven in their house. Bubby said that the other option would have been to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge! The family did have to go back to the Lower East Side to buy their kosher food. Imagine Flatbush with no kosher butcher or bakery!  Of course, with only an ice box at home, they could not buy very large quantities.

Not too many people had telephones when Bubby was a girl, but her family had one. She told us that once she came home and helpfully stirred the soup cooking on the stove, not realizing it was pesachdik. She remembered her parents calling the Rav on the phone to ask the shaila of what to do with the soup. Bubby also recalled her father setting aside time to learn every day, with Mr. Sacks, a Yid from Scotland, who would come to Mr. Jacobson’s office for a daily chavrusashaft.  

There are some funny historical anecdotes as well. Bubby’s father had purchased a car when very few people had one. It made so much noise when they tried starting it up that all the neighbors would stare! R’ Yair couldn’t even drive it himself, as it was so difficult to turn the steering wheel.  He had to hire a chauffeur. The car broke down so often, that the Jacobson children were unhappy that their father had sold the horses, which had been much more reliable. Once, on a family trip to vacation in Lakewood, the chauffer swerved to the side of the muddy road, to avoid another car. The steering mechanism snapped, and they were stranded. Bubby, her mother, and most of the siblings took a train back to NY, while her father and one brother went to seek help. They ended up sleeping in a jail cell at the closest police station that night, for lack of any other accommodations!

​Bubby was mostly self taught, because after finishing “grammar school” (8^th grade) she went to work in the hat box factory. Yet, she was so brilliant, so well read, so good with numbers, and possessed such a high, rich vocabulary, that it was a pleasure to listen to her speak. Reading was her favorite pastime. She related that as a girl, she’d walk home from the Linden Street library with an armful of books and sneak up to the attic and read for hours. (That was the only way she could read in peace, without being asked to do chores!) Nobody could beat Bubby at Scrabble, even in her 90’s. The only reason she stopped playing was due to her diminished eyesight. Macular degeneration took away her ability to read, write and do the crossword puzzles she so enjoyed. But her mind remained as sharp as ever, with the same witty, magnetic personality that everyone loved. This was the case until her stroke at age 110, and continued to a great degree afterwards as well. Another of Bubby’s outstanding features was that she remained so upbeat, positive, cheerful, and a pleasure to be around, no matter her age or suffering. She always looked at the bright side of things and was constantly so appreciative to everyone.

​Bubby got married in 1921 to my grandfather, Samuel (Meshulam) Margaretten, who had also been born on the Lower East Side, but whose family had relocated to Perth Amboy, NJ. He was the son of Yehuda (John) Margaretten, a seltzer manufacturer from Hungary who went through Shas at least 3 times. Samuel was the nephew of Ignatz and Regina (Horowitz) Margaretten, founders of the Horowitz-Margaretten Matzo Bakery.

Bubby continued the chesed of her parents. She absolutely loved helping people and giving to them, doing for them.  That was her essence. She wanted to make people happy. One of her mottos was “If you’re happy, I’m happy!” and she really meant it. In a short manuscript of an autobiography which she wrote, she relates how there were elderly, single people with no one to care for them, living at her boarding house in Florida. When someone had surgery, it was Bubby herself, close to 90, who cooked and cleaned for them.

Another chesed we know of that Bubby used to perform, was free writing services for people who required them, back when she lived in Perth Amboy. Everyone knew that she was a fabulous writer and people would come to her for help with whatever letters, etc. they needed.

It’s impossible to know, or tell over even a fraction of her good deeds. One way to sum them up would be to quote the response when asked how she merited such long life.  Bubby once answered “It’s because I always tried to help everyone, and never harm anyone. Even when people said ‘It isn’t your business to help,’ I made it my business”.

Another, central and overwhelming factor which Bubby, and we, credited for her long life, is the bracha given to her by the Frierdiker Lubavitcher Rebbe, during his 1929 visit to the US. Her father had gone to greet the Rebbe upon his arrival and was one of the select individuals allowed to board the ship. R’ Yair gave the use of his beautiful automobile to transport the Rebbe to his lodgings. During this visit Bubby was unwell (she was already married and living in Perth Amboy) and R’ Yair went into the Rebbe and obtained a brocha for her, and Bubby recalled feeling immediately better. My father relates that, with tears in her eyes, Bubby would say that the Rebbe’s brocha saved her life on more than one occasion.

When Bubby was asked how she remained religious despite the overwhelming majority who did not in those days, (and without the benefit of any Bais Yaakov education) she responded “Throughout my life, I could never bear to do anything that my father would not fully approve of.”

Her unwavering honesty was also acquired from her father. She would say “There are no “degrees” of honesty. Either you are honest or you are not!”

In 1990, after having finally sold the boarding house, due to her advancing age and the deteriorating neighborhood, Bubby left Miami Beach and moved to Pittsburgh, PA, where her daughter Ruth and granddaughter Ellen live. She resided independently in an assisted living apartment building. She was 91 years old, and remained there living alone, until she was 104! When her eyesight and stamina lessened further, Bubby went to the nursing home across the street, still in exceptional physical health and with a perfectly functioning mind, until her stroke at age 110.

No matter what it took (after I was married and had children, the road trip could stretch into 14 hours) we drove in every year from NY to Pittsburgh. It was a highlight of her year and ours. Bubby would always have to give us presents - when she was unable to buy things anymore, she would give away her own blankets, jewelry, and birthday presents she had received. You had to take it to make her happy! As she got older, Bubby would cry when we left, hoping and wondering if she would live to the next year to see us again. We always felt terrible leaving her, and so bad that we couldn’t come more often. Once or twice, in the couple years prior to her stroke, one of my older daughters suggested that Bubby should come live with us. That seemed logistically impossible at the time. Why would she want to, and how could she, leave the place she had been for so long? I could not have imagined that this idea would indeed come true.

In August 2009, we visited Bubby right before her 110^th birthday celebration. Her mind was sharp and clear, and she told us stories of her parents, and delighted in our children, as usual. (She always thought that each baby was the most beautiful baby in the world and noticed special qualities each child had. She also worried if there were any issues she noticed, such as one child having a tendency to be wild and hit others. Then she would follow up with me on the phone during the year to see if things were getting better.) During this visit, Bubby took her walker and with difficulty, crossed over to her roommate’s side of the living area to request permission to give away the blanket this woman had knitted as a birthday present for her. Bubby then gave it to me for my baby who was soon due.

We left Bubby than with heavy hearts. I had a scary feeling that something would happen to her when she was 110. In December 2009, shortly after I gave birth, Bubby suffered a stroke which left her paralyzed on her right side, unable to walk, care for herself, or even turn over in bed.

I still remember where I was standing when I got the phone call that would change our lives forever. By amazing Divine Providence, my sister and her husband had just returned from living in Eretz Yisroel, and had moved to an apartment right across the street from us. They rented a car and encouraged me to come along, with my newborn baby, to Pittsburgh. B”H this trip proved life-saving for Bubby.

We arrived at about midnight. The whole trip, we thought we were coming to say goodbye, and I was hoping we would get there in time.

What we found was a shock - Bubby was not deathly ill. Her breathing, heart rate and oxygen were totally fine. However, her life was in severe danger because she was being terribly neglected. The nursing home had stopped feeding her “because she would cough when eating, and they did not want her to aspirate,” yet they did not bring her to the hospital to receive alternate means of nourishment! She had been semi-conscious, sleeping nonstop until we arrived - when she woke up asked for food, and started talking (albeit in a new, hard to understand voice.)

This was the beginning of our experience with the Western medical establishment, which has decided that older people inherently deserve life less (much less!) than younger ones - and that they don’t even want to live!

It was also the beginning of our long fight to give Bubby every possible chance at life, health, and happiness, which eventually led, in March 2010, to Bubby coming to live in our house with my husband, me, and our children. I believe that she spent some of the happiest years of her life here - despite being so physically limited.  

With this move, Bubby now had the opportunity to fulfill many mitzvos which she couldn’t do in the nursing home, like lighting Shabbos candles (no open flames were allowed in the nursing home) and hearing the shofar and megilah. Bubby also loved giving people brochos and davening for people. Many who heard of Bubby, from the neighborhood especially, would come and ask her to daven for them and give them a bracha. She would hold their hand, and depending on her strength at the moment, either bentch them out loud or daven quietly. We witnessed how giving brochos made her especially happy. Bubby once commented “Hashem never misses me because I am always talking to Him, and asking Him for His help.”

Bubby’s life in our house, with our kids, was really something to see. We would bring her a baby and she would be the happiest person in the world. My sister’s toddler or mine would climb up on her wheelchair. The older kids would come over and talk to her, each identifying themself in a special way, as they spoke loudly into her left ear for her to hear. “Bubby, its K., ! I’m named after your mother”- and Bubby’s face would light up like a thousand watt bulb. Or –“Bubby, I’m Y., the dancing boy” (that was the special quality that Bubby had noticed in him years before).

When Bubby sat on the balcony, she took great pleasure in the sun, the air, and the trees - and worried about the kids, as usual. She was afraid they could climb over (the 5 ft) railing, so she made me bring in the Little Tykes picnic table and anything else she felt was a danger. Always, she had the children on her mind, felt responsible for their safety and literally lived for them.    

The difficulties, miracles, lessons and beauty of the 3 years and 3 months that we were zoche to have Bubby in our home would fill an entire book.

Throughout everything, my husband selflessly gave his life, his wife and his home, for the cause of saving Bubby and making her happy. He did anything and everything - cooking, laundry, babysitting, - and spent time keeping Bubby company. It was all done with a complete heart, with love and devotion.

The kind of life we experienced with Bubby was supernatural. There is no money in the world that could replace having been a part of that experience. I likened it to the feeling of the ‘Dor Deah’ - the generation who lived on the manna in the desert - witnessing miracles on a constant basis. To be sure, there were so many scares, so much tefilah and tzedaka, so many kabalos. About every 40 days I’d call and renew the tefilos at the kosel with a minyan for Bubby, for the next 40 days. Also, at any time of crisis, I would pledge extra tzedaka and call in to give her name for emergency tefilah. We saw tremendous yeshuos from this. In addition, I would promise to publicize the nes if Hashem would perform it for us. This seemed to be a highly effective method of tefilah.

In the most dramatic example, I was once suctioning Bubby (to remove mucus which she would build up in her throat, once she stopped eating by mouth) and suddenly she started gasping and turning colors. It was one of the scariest moments. At first I didn’t know what was wrong-I turned up her oxygen- then water started pouring from her mouth, her face turned purple, she stopped breathing and her eyes rolled up. It seemed her airway was blocked. I screamed for someone to call Hatzala and continued trying to suction out the blockage. This was extremely hard, because her jaw was clamped shut like a steel trap. Nothing was coming out of her throat and I did not think Hatzala could make it in time to save her life. Desperately, I promised in my heart $500 to Tzedaka if Hashem would save Bubby-and immediately, one large hard mucus ball popped out of Bubby’s throat, on the suction catheter, followed by another and Bubby started breathing again. By the time Hatzala arrived she was ok! I have no idea how many minutes she was without oxygen, but B”H she had no ill effects. About an hour later she was sitting and conversing with a historian who had come to interview her! The above story is just one from a long list from nissim I have recorded.  

Dr. Brum, Bubby’s super devoted doctor, who cared for her like his own mother, described her miraculous life as follows: “I felt that I was just signing the prescriptions. Whatever we treated her with, worked. It was like the medicine was more of a ‘segulah’.

Having Dr. Brum as a doctor was in itself one of the miracles. No matter how many times I called, or what time of day or night it was, or even Shabbos, he never made me feel that a question was too small or silly. He took Bubby’s life very seriously. I cannot imagine how I would have kept my sanity without him.

Dr. C. was another angel in human form. He did not follow the creed in which the value of one’s life declines based on age. At 110, 111,112 and 113, he adored Bubby and fought for her life.  Both these doctors were devastated when she was niftar.

I also want to thank Dr. Yitzchak A. and Dr. Manfred M., Bubby’s ID specialist and cardiologist, who loved Bubby and cared for her like grandsons.

Bubby just had this personality that endeared her to everyone who came in contact with her. Her huge smile, her warmth, wit, gratitude, and graciousness-not to mention tzidkus- there was simply no one else like her. It can’t really be described. One of her aides, Agatha, said “I don’t know if you realized it, but you had an angel living in your midst.”

To be honest, when Bubby came to live with us, the first several months were extremely difficult. I had naively assumed that we would be her “company” and make her happy, while her aides would care for her. I didn’t know that things don’t usually work that way… I was collapsing, with caring for my new baby and doing almost everything for Bubby myself.

Then, Hashem sent us the most wonderful, caring aides, Agatha, Gellen, and most recently Elizabeth, who took the burden off of me. They were the biggest bracha in our lives. The love and devotion they had for Bubby cannot be described. Subsequently, I found out that they are among the top 10 aides out of 5,000 in the whole agency. Knowing how special they are, this was no surprise.

How was Bubby zoche to receive care like no one else her age? Who merits leaving a nursing home at age 110 and living with grandchildren and great grandchildren, enjoying lively babies and little kids company 24/7? Who merits such exquisite care like Agatha, Gellen and Elizabeth gave her?

I believe wholeheartedly that it was Bubby’s chesed and care for others her whole life, which were now being given back to her from Shamayim, midah k’neged midah.

At the end, too, she did not suffer but was taken with ‘misas neshikah,’ having been in the hospital less than 24 hours after a sudden heart attack.

The story of her kevurah was a “miracle end to a miracle life” as Agatha so succinctly put it.

“Ratzon Yerei’av Ya’aseh” – Hashem fulfilled Bubby’s wishes in a most open and awe-inspiring way. Bubby had mentioned to me a few times, a couple years ago, that she wanted to be buried next to her father, “if there is room”. (This is in Washington Cemetery in the Tzemach Tzedek Nusach Ari Chelkah).

Her parents died in the 1930’s – it’s hard to imagine there would still be room near them. Her grandparents, nearby, died in 1902 and 1904! I thought we had to at least try, though. Mr. Mendy R. from Chesed Shel Emes was instrumental in assisting us with all aspects of the kvura. Mr. R. contacted Washington Cemetery, and at first they found no room, so we decided on Old Montefiore instead. As we were calling people to tell them about the levaya, Mendy R. called back. Washington Cemetery had found one spot in the chelkah, near her parents!

However, because their map is so old, they were afraid it was not accurate and that there was someone already buried there. By tremendous Hashgacha Pratis, our cousin Michoel R. was in our living room at the exact time the call came in about the possible spot. He is perhaps the only person in the world who knows that area like the back of his hand (from about 30 years of visiting the cemetery and doing family research.) He believed that the spot was really empty.  We were afraid of taking a chance, and perhaps having to start over late in the day at a different cemetery which could delay the kevura by a day, but Michoel was able to convince Mendy R. and us that the spot was almost certainly empty, and it really was.

Hashem had saved her this spot for about 80 years, since her parents died, and over 100 years since her grandparents died. Her plot is across from her parents and at the foot of her grandparents! What a comfort. Could we ask for a more obvious sign that Hashem was with us?  

I want to extend a huge thank you to Mrs. Leah G., who adopted Bubby as her own grandmother, and was constantly available, using all her experience and connections to help Bubby and us with every single need, and offering tremendous psychological support as well. It was so comforting to me to know I had someone to always call and rely on. She made the biggest difference of any single person involved in our lives with Bubby.

Most of all, thank You Hashem for privileging us to be part of this awesome, miraculous and mysterious story. Mysterious, because it is so obvious that there was much going on in the spiritual realm, hidden from us, which will only be revealed when Moshiach arrives.

There is a huge hole in our life right now, as Bubby was a central figure in our home for over 3 years. When my 3 ½ year old asks for her, I can’t help but cry. We miss her terribly and we daven for Moshiach and to Techiyas Hameisim bimheira beyamanu amen!