Grandpa Iz was a legend; an unforgettable character with a true lust for life. Vibrant until the very end; he did everything on his own terms. I'm grateful to have this opportunity to say a few words about this wonderful and loving man on behalf of my brothers, myself and the rest of the Richard Case side of the family.
It seems hard to believe, but I never thought this day would ever come; I fully expected my next opportunity to speak publicly about Grandpa Izzy would be in 2015, when the three brothers would roast him with the latest version of the Iz Quiz.
At his 100th birthday party in late August, he was as robust and cantankerous as ever--when asked "Can you hold the microphone closer?" he quipped, with that ever-present twinkle in his eye, "I'd like to hold something else closer."
Bill, David and I have many special memories of Grandpa, some of which can't be repeated in polite company. (But feel free to ask us later.) In many ways, his bawdiness and quick wit that will be most fondly remembered, along with his heart-warming grin.
Grandpa had a no-nonsense approach to life, but he met every challenge with bona fide gusto. He simply never dwelled on his difficulties. In 1955, at the age of 45, he sold the family cattle farm and moved into real estate--though the cowboy spirit never left him. Or maybe it was native American spirit: his tribe, of course, the Hebrew tribe. Izzy proudly displayed his totem everyday-- the iconic bolo tie. We are all wearing one today to honor him.
Iz was blessed to have had two remarkable loves: his wife and our beloved grandmother, Ruth Rosen, whom he married in 1933, and then Irene Sorokin; both of whom tried ever so hard to keep Izzy in check... and they both learned the best way to keep him in check, was to go along for the ride.
Izzy befriended everyone, travelled the world, scoured the oceans, dined with pleasure, and danced with passion. He was one helluva card player, and boy, could he nap.
He loved being outside -- and some of our favorite childhood memories of Grandpa involve the outdoors. David would go picking fiddlehead ferns with Grandpa and then fry them up in butter. Bill spent many an afternoon with him at the lake near Pent Road, or at Cliffside, demonstrating the zen of fishing --for shad and, sometimes, for golf balls. He could putt with the best of them and I'll always cherish the times I played golf with Grandpa: as Dad's substitute in the Cliffside Father and Son Tournament (with a lot less yelling) and, much later, in the summer of 2000, the time he missed shooting his age by one stroke (91).
He loved to pick blueberries, and he could turn those berries into spectacular jam (particularly loved by his great grandchildren). We think it is remarkable that he was cooking for himself up until the end.
He was the greatest father, grandfather and great-grandfather a person could ever have, filled with a 100 years' of jokes, stories and experiences. With his passing, though the world may smile a little less often, he's still an inspiration for all of us on how to truly live: with an easy laugh, a full belly and most of all, a wide-open heart.
