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A lasting tribute set in stone
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Compiled by Margi Herwald Zitelli
City Editor
The few square feet or inches on the face of a tombstone are precious territory upon which to immortalize someone. The CJN asked readers to tell us about unique tributes they had inscribed on the tombstones of loved ones. Some are sentimental, some are humorous, but all reflect something special about the deceased and about the people who loved them.
A family joke
I remember family vacations when I was a kid. My father Stanley Norr drove us everywhere. When my dad saw something out the window, like some neat scenery or a bird, he would say, “See it – there it is – too late!” It was kind of a silly thing we all started doing. When he died, I had “See it – there it is – too late!” inscribed on his tombstone.
At the unveiling of my father’s stone, I explained to our family and friends that the saying could be considered a philosophy of life, because – let’s face it –life can be short. My dad was only 58 when he died. So, you shouldn’t let opportunities pass you by, because you may not have the chance to take advantage of the same opportunity twice.
Jeremy Norr, Cincinnati
A lesson learned
My sister Shirley Giammarco loved cherries and would pay any price for them when they first appeared in season. Her husband and children felt there were three things that would remind them most of her when they visited her grave. So they included her picture, a design of cherries, and this phrase on the bottom: “Do unto others as you would want them to do for you.” Shirley urged us all to remember that lesson in a video she made prior to her death.
Joyce Norr, Mayfield Village
Lasting school spirit
My father Ted Reiff and his college roommates went to homecoming at their alma mater, the University of Wisconsin, every year. He continued going until he was in his 80s. When I was at The Ohio State University, he attended every Ohio State/Wisconsin game in Columbus. His love for his school prompted his children to inscribe the back of his headstone with “On Wisconsin.”
Debby Reiff Greenberg, Reminderville
It doesn’t mean what you think it does
For 45 years, whenever we’re enjoying ourselves together – dining, long drives, traveling – Linda often asks, “Is it over yet?” And Johnny always replies, “It’s not over ...”
So, in pre-arranging our burial, we designed our gravestone at Lakeview Cemetery with a photo of us holding hands from our wedding etched into the dark stone, and our favorite saying – “It’s not over.” – inscribed nearby.
Passersby will likely intuit a different meaning when they read it. But to us, the words memorialize our enduring love both in this world and possibly beyond.
Linda and John Klein, Shaker Heights
A tribute in his own words
My husband Bruce Geller was our family’s “poet laureate.” For every family occasion, we could count on him to write a humorous and sentimental poem, roasting and toasting the person being honored.
Bruce had a terminal illness and was aware of his impending death. We chose to inscribe his tombstone with his own poetic words that summarized his view of living:
“Our lives are always dotted
With events from good to bad
But they make us who we are
As they are the lives we had.”
Elaine Geller, Lyndhurst
His qualities and interests
My father Morris’s monument, distinctive in sculpture, includes images of wheat and oats, reflecting his degree from Cornell University and lifelong love for agriculture. It is inscribed “He exemplified DECENCY DIGNITY STRENGTH.” The words were carefully chosen. No one represented these qualities more than he, and he influenced many who knew him.
Ken Goldberg, Cleveland Heights
Titles to be proud of
When my husband Harry Kless sold his Firestone store, he spent his leisure time cooking. He became a gourmet chef, and I became the envy of my friends!
When he died, I had the following engraved on his headstone:
“Great husband,
Great father.
Great grandfather.
Great chef.”
He would be very proud of all those titles.
Eileen Kless, University Heights
Grandchildren’s pet names endure
My parents, Harold and Ida Markman, were blessed with 14 grandchildren. All the grandkids called them Papagram and Mommagram. It started with their firstborn grandchild Michael. Now Papagram and Mommagram are inscribed on their headstones at Mt. Olive.
Janis Klein, Mayfield Heights
A chuckle for future generations
My dear mother, Mildred Scher Rein Hoffman, was married to my father for 38 years. Two years after being widowed, she re-married and was widowed five years later. At the age of 85, she married her third husband. They were all good marriages. So at the bottom of her tombstone, I had inscribed: “She made three husbands very happy.”
A hundred years from now someone walking through the cemetery will get a chuckle when they read it.
Bernice Rothman, Mayfield Heights
Grandpa chooses his farewell message
My grandparents, Fanny and Chaim Rutsky, were born in Odessa and immigrated to Cleveland in 1905. After retiring, Chaim became financial director and shamash of Or Chodesh Anshe Sfard shul. When he died in 1960, the rabbi called the shul “the house that Chaim Rutsky built.”
Before Grandpa Rutsky died, he selected a tombstone for himself and Grandma. He included a picture of each of them with the inscription “They were amiable in death as they were in life.” He invited the family to see the stone, but no one wanted to go when he was still alive!
Evelyn Rovitz Heppner, Columbia, Md.
City Editor
The few square feet or inches on the face of a tombstone are precious territory upon which to immortalize someone. The CJN asked readers to tell us about unique tributes they had inscribed on the tombstones of loved ones. Some are sentimental, some are humorous, but all reflect something special about the deceased and about the people who loved them.
A family joke
I remember family vacations when I was a kid. My father Stanley Norr drove us everywhere. When my dad saw something out the window, like some neat scenery or a bird, he would say, “See it – there it is – too late!” It was kind of a silly thing we all started doing. When he died, I had “See it – there it is – too late!” inscribed on his tombstone.
At the unveiling of my father’s stone, I explained to our family and friends that the saying could be considered a philosophy of life, because – let’s face it –life can be short. My dad was only 58 when he died. So, you shouldn’t let opportunities pass you by, because you may not have the chance to take advantage of the same opportunity twice.
Jeremy Norr, Cincinnati
A lesson learned
My sister Shirley Giammarco loved cherries and would pay any price for them when they first appeared in season. Her husband and children felt there were three things that would remind them most of her when they visited her grave. So they included her picture, a design of cherries, and this phrase on the bottom: “Do unto others as you would want them to do for you.” Shirley urged us all to remember that lesson in a video she made prior to her death.
Joyce Norr, Mayfield Village
Lasting school spirit
My father Ted Reiff and his college roommates went to homecoming at their alma mater, the University of Wisconsin, every year. He continued going until he was in his 80s. When I was at The Ohio State University, he attended every Ohio State/Wisconsin game in Columbus. His love for his school prompted his children to inscribe the back of his headstone with “On Wisconsin.”
Debby Reiff Greenberg, Reminderville
It doesn’t mean what you think it does
For 45 years, whenever we’re enjoying ourselves together – dining, long drives, traveling – Linda often asks, “Is it over yet?” And Johnny always replies, “It’s not over ...”
So, in pre-arranging our burial, we designed our gravestone at Lakeview Cemetery with a photo of us holding hands from our wedding etched into the dark stone, and our favorite saying – “It’s not over.” – inscribed nearby.
Passersby will likely intuit a different meaning when they read it. But to us, the words memorialize our enduring love both in this world and possibly beyond.
Linda and John Klein, Shaker Heights
A tribute in his own words
My husband Bruce Geller was our family’s “poet laureate.” For every family occasion, we could count on him to write a humorous and sentimental poem, roasting and toasting the person being honored.
Bruce had a terminal illness and was aware of his impending death. We chose to inscribe his tombstone with his own poetic words that summarized his view of living:
“Our lives are always dotted
With events from good to bad
But they make us who we are
As they are the lives we had.”
Elaine Geller, Lyndhurst
His qualities and interests
My father Morris’s monument, distinctive in sculpture, includes images of wheat and oats, reflecting his degree from Cornell University and lifelong love for agriculture. It is inscribed “He exemplified DECENCY DIGNITY STRENGTH.” The words were carefully chosen. No one represented these qualities more than he, and he influenced many who knew him.
Ken Goldberg, Cleveland Heights
Titles to be proud of
When my husband Harry Kless sold his Firestone store, he spent his leisure time cooking. He became a gourmet chef, and I became the envy of my friends!
When he died, I had the following engraved on his headstone:
“Great husband,
Great father.
Great grandfather.
Great chef.”
He would be very proud of all those titles.
Eileen Kless, University Heights
Grandchildren’s pet names endure
My parents, Harold and Ida Markman, were blessed with 14 grandchildren. All the grandkids called them Papagram and Mommagram. It started with their firstborn grandchild Michael. Now Papagram and Mommagram are inscribed on their headstones at Mt. Olive.
Janis Klein, Mayfield Heights
A chuckle for future generations
My dear mother, Mildred Scher Rein Hoffman, was married to my father for 38 years. Two years after being widowed, she re-married and was widowed five years later. At the age of 85, she married her third husband. They were all good marriages. So at the bottom of her tombstone, I had inscribed: “She made three husbands very happy.”
A hundred years from now someone walking through the cemetery will get a chuckle when they read it.
Bernice Rothman, Mayfield Heights
Grandpa chooses his farewell message
My grandparents, Fanny and Chaim Rutsky, were born in Odessa and immigrated to Cleveland in 1905. After retiring, Chaim became financial director and shamash of Or Chodesh Anshe Sfard shul. When he died in 1960, the rabbi called the shul “the house that Chaim Rutsky built.”
Before Grandpa Rutsky died, he selected a tombstone for himself and Grandma. He included a picture of each of them with the inscription “They were amiable in death as they were in life.” He invited the family to see the stone, but no one wanted to go when he was still alive!
Evelyn Rovitz Heppner, Columbia, Md.
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