Memories of Charlotte Ida (Litman) Tubis

                     Philip Litman (Brother)

The first two children of Max (called Maxie by his wife) and Matilda (called Tillie) Litman were boys. Henry was born October 15, 1928 and Philip, May 11, 1930.

Almost seven years after Philip was born, the family welcomed Charlottes Ida on May 8, 1937.

My parents created a receptive feeling in Henry and me towards the birth of Charlotte. She was welcomed with enthusiasm.

Maxie was thrilled to have a daughter. Tillie stated on numerous occasions that Charlotte was the “apple of his eye.” Because Maxie’s business required him to work most weekends, Charlotte became very close to her mother. Even so, Maxie showed extreme affection toward her, and I remember commenting on several occasions that as far as my father was concerned Charlotte could do no wrong.

Charlotte, being the only girl and the youngest child, was indeed the favored one. My brother and I were “real” boys. My mother told my wife Lucille about the time she was walking down the street with a woman friend and found her two boys wrestling in the street next to the curb, and she threw back her shoulders and quickly walked by making believe the two ruffians were not hers.

Each of us was given the choice of learning to play a musical instrument. Charlotte chose the violin. Her teacher was the director of the high school music department. Maxie and Tillie were extremely proud of her musical ability. She must have done exceptionally well since I can’t remember many screeching sounds coming from her violin after the first few months of lessons.

All three of us siblings attended college. I obtained three degrees from Boston University and then practiced law for many years. Charlotte attended the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and later graduated from Boston University. While at Boston University, she fell in love with Arnold and got married several days after her graduation. After a year living in Worcester, MA the couple moved to West Lafayette, IN where Arnold became a faculty member at Purdue University. In West Lafayette, Cheryl and Eliot were born and grew up, and Charlotte forged for herself a most interesting multifaceted life and career that Arnold, Cheryl, and Eliot described in her obituary and in memories of her.  

It has been over fifty-five years since Charlotte married Arnold and moved away from her childhood home. For me, remembering about events over the years has been in some ways frustratingly futile. I do remember that Tillie did not like air travel, but when Charlotte was about to give birth to Cheryl, she girded her loins and stoically traveled to West Lafayette to help Charlotte with her new grandchild.

I remember my mother and father looking forward to the many visits of Charlotte, Arnold, Cheryl and Eliot to them in Salem, MA. As my wife Lucille said of Eliot and Cheryl: “they were the most beautiful children.”

Henry died on February 7, 2015, just about two weeks before Charlotte. They were fortunately able to talk to each other by phone shortly before his passing. I am sure that he would have been able to recall the many happy times the family had together, including those during the many fun-filled visits of Charlotte and Arnold to his home in Stuart, FL.

Charlotte will be missed.

I remember meeting Charlotte and Arnold when I was running my senior group at Temple Solel.  I tried to welcome the seniors to my new group and was feeling quite nervous myself.  Then I met Charotte.  Her warmth and support put me right at ease.  She was always so friendly and outgoing.  I appreciated how supportive and important she made me feel.  I know she made showing up to my senior group a priority.  She wanted me to feel their support.  It meant so much to me to see her friendly face and hear her very supportive voice at each event.  I remember at times expressing some question on whether I had the best programs.  She stopped me each time I seemed to question my ability and told me that I was doing a fantastic job and that people were so pleased with my programs.   When I would see her at services she was my cheerleader spreading the word to others about the excellent senior programs I had.   She had such a positive way of communicating to others. She left no room for doubt in myself.  She must have been an amazing mother and grandmother when it came to instilling confidence in others.

It was great seeing her in our beloved La Costa Valley neighborhood.  I ran into Arnold and Charlotte and the pool quite a few times. There she was being such a devoted loving partner.  Arnold was in the pool so she was in the pool!  I thought they were so cute together!  Always side by side.  Her partnership was so important.  You could see the devotion she had to her loving partner.

 I learned so much from Charlotte.  She was a fantastic example to so many without even realizing it.  I will miss her encouraging voice.  Always believing in me and what I was doing.

~*In Memoriam*~
Charlotte Ida Tubis

         Forty-two years ago one August day in the big metropolis of Lafayette, Indiana, the year was 1973. I was ten years old and it was time to go "back to school shopping" with my mom at our high-end department store, the Sears and Roebuck. My mom and I walked into the shoe department and discovered there stood a line of maybe 15 mothers with their kids all lined up to have their foot measured by a revolutionary new silver machine on the floor which claimed to measure your foot in the most precise way. No one knew how it worked, what technology it was, whether it used x-ray or heat detection, but every kid was excited to put their foot in the machine to get their exact measurement, until we got to the front of the line! My mom proceeded to firmly tell the clerk that she had no idea how the machine worked, that there could be dangerous radiation from using it, and that I would most definitely not be putting my foot in it. “I want my sons foot measured with a regular metal shoe measuring device, the one every store has and has been using for years.” The clerk said to my mom, "We haven't had those old measuring devices in about a month so I'm sorry I can't help you.” At that point she said, “I'm not buying a pair of shoes for my son unless you can go find one of those, and I'd like to speak with a manager.” Which she did, and after a few minutes the manager was rummaging through the back of the stock room and did find the old measuring device. My foot was measured, shoes bought, and we were on our way. 

         I believe within a few months that revolutionary new measuring machine was never to be seen again. In the 40 years since, I've walked through Sears’ shoe department many times, and they are still using the same old-school metal foot-measuring device.

         The point of the story is that my mom has always taught us, and led by example, to speak up for ourselves. To not sit back and just let life happen to us. This was one of many embarrassing episodes at the time, but in the end proved to be very valuable lessons for me. I believe my mom developed this attitude because she grew up in the post World War II era of "never again.” Never stay silent again, don't let people drive you out of your homes, don't let people stay silent in the face of atrocities, make sure you speak up for yourself, be it for a geopolitical cause or for something as simple as standing up for yourself while getting a new pair of shoes!

         Another special quality of my moms was what I call her incredible GUT SENSE. She could size up a problem, summarize an issue of any kind, and tackle a difficult situation in a very short period time.  Mom usually had a very simple and direct solution that was almost always the correct one. Her advice was usually pragmatic, very sensible, and no-nonsense. She helped me over the years think through business deals, real estate transactions, personal issues, parenting decisions and whole range of other issues.  Her advice helped to shape many important decisions in my life.

         My mom was a truly special human being in that she really looked at the best in people. Even though she was a strong and spirited person, she always gave people the benefit of the doubt. I rarely, if ever, heard her gossip or say negative things about people. She always looked at the best qualities of friends, family, and relatives. In today's world, on television you can watch soap operas and shows like Orange County Housewives. They are full of bickering, backstabbing, and negative energy. There was none of that in my mom; she was always looking for the good in people.

         She truly lived by a code of fairness in her life. I rarely heard my mom openly criticize a person, conflict, or any situation in which there were two sides to a story. She was sensitive to all parties’ points of view, but always leaned toward helping the less fortunate. Like during a discussion we had many years ago of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged - I loved the book and its capitalistic concepts, but true to her code of fairness she was quick to counter and say I was not considering the entire population and that society should always provide a social safety net. She firmly believed no one should be left behind.

After she became ill, I witnessed and recognized even more of her very special characteristics.

She was a protector of others in the face of her illness:
As an example – she didn’t tell her brother about her illness for years because she was concerned he would worry and that his worry would affect his own health. She would tell me, “Everything is on a need to know basis, and he doesn’t need to know.” She was more concerned for the well being of others around her and those she cared about even in the face of her illness. And always wanted to ease the burden to make things easier for everyone.

She kept a positive demeanor and outlook:
During the two-year period she spent weeks in and out of the hospital, even during times of great pain and discomfort, she was cheerful, respectful, and positive to the doctors, nurses, and staff, no matter her pain level or circumstances.

She was clever/strategic (with a sense of humor) too:
One day while I was with her at the hospital she was hungry so I told her to buzz the nurse to bring her Jell-O. She said, “No, not right now, I don’t buzz the nurses unless it’s really important. I’m saving my buzzes for when I really need to go to the bathroom, not for Jell-O!”

         My mother taught me many lessons about how to live; some I may live up to, but many I will not. She was truly a better person than I, and a roll model for all of us to learn from and emulate.

         Now I'd also like to take a moment and thank my dad for the unbelievable support he provided to my mom the last two years. As many of you know he's a physicist and likes calculations.  I'm not quite as educated as him, but I will tell you I calculated that they drove to the hospital over 400 times of that two years for treatments and appointments. The average driving distance was about 40 miles round-trip, so that’s 16,000 miles – two-thirds way around the earth! On top of that he spent many hours, around six a day, at the hospital with her. Dad was with her every step of the way, all the way until her last days. Thank you dad for taking care of her.

I love you mom, and will miss you dearly.