We’re known as The People of the Book. Every year Israel celebrates Book Week, primarily for Hebrew language books, of course, but including books in many languages, and books for all ages. One of our finest writers, Yoram Kaniuk, died this summer and his obituary, with photograph, was on the front page of my newspaper.
Another person of the book, Edyth Geiger, also died that week, but no notice was taken in the media. It should have been. I’m sure the people of Safed and the North took notice and mourned.
I met Edyth quite a few years ago. Some friends and I decided to take a day trip to Safed, a very old and very interesting city. As one of the four holy cities of history it has always been a center of religious learning and observance, with many old and beautiful synagogues and an ancient cemetery.
After walking the steep, narrow streets, visiting landmarks and seeing many picturesque old buildings, we visited a long-established artists’ quarter where work in many media is ongoing, and galleries where Safed artists’ paintings and sculptures were displayed, find space everywhere in the crowded district.
Then one of us suggested we visit the Safed English Library where I met Edyth Geiger. At the time she was a lively, friendly woman of late middle
She bounced around her small, bright, book-crammed apartment whose mismatched bookcases, each overflowing with books of every subject and description, reached to the ceiling. Even her bedroom wasn’t off limits. Its windows offered a gorgeous view of rooftops, hills and sky, and there were more books, piled on every surface.
I noticed a handsome framed painting of a dragon on one of the few walls not occupied by bookcases, and asked her if it was the work of one of the Safed artists. (My son-in-law collects dragons in every possible medium, and I knew he’d love this one.) She thought a moment, and said that it wasn’t. I must have looked disappointed, because she said, brightly, “If you make a donation to the book fund, you can take it home.” I did, and it’s hanging on their wall as I write.
Eventually the Library moved into larger quarters – still crowded, since Edyth continued to acquire more books, and she could never bear to get rid of any of her treasured volumes. She has said, “reading is the greatest joy there is,” and that she had read to her own children every day.
Many people prefer just to browse, or find a quiet corner and immerse themselves in a book right there. Children come in after school. She even organized a stamp club for them, using her own collection as a starting place, and offering the stamps that come on boxes of books that arrive from every English-speaking country in the world.
One visitor said, “If you love books it’s like coming into a candy store.” Another called it a sanctuary. I certainly found it so, and I’ll never forget the afternoon I spent there.
I understand Edyth slowed down a bit since my visit, but she never lost her love of books, and never failed in her mission to share her love of reading with every English reader in her part of Israel. She inspired a group of devoted volunteers who are carrying on the work and bringing new generations of readers to what Edyth called “…the greatest joy there is.”
What finer heritage can anyone leave?
Another person of the book, Edyth Geiger, also died that week, but no notice was taken in the media. It should have been. I’m sure the people of Safed and the North took notice and mourned.
I met Edyth quite a few years ago. Some friends and I decided to take a day trip to Safed, a very old and very interesting city. As one of the four holy cities of history it has always been a center of religious learning and observance, with many old and beautiful synagogues and an ancient cemetery.
After walking the steep, narrow streets, visiting landmarks and seeing many picturesque old buildings, we visited a long-established artists’ quarter where work in many media is ongoing, and galleries where Safed artists’ paintings and sculptures were displayed, find space everywhere in the crowded district.
Then one of us suggested we visit the Safed English Library where I met Edyth Geiger. At the time she was a lively, friendly woman of late middle
She bounced around her small, bright, book-crammed apartment whose mismatched bookcases, each overflowing with books of every subject and description, reached to the ceiling. Even her bedroom wasn’t off limits. Its windows offered a gorgeous view of rooftops, hills and sky, and there were more books, piled on every surface.
I noticed a handsome framed painting of a dragon on one of the few walls not occupied by bookcases, and asked her if it was the work of one of the Safed artists. (My son-in-law collects dragons in every possible medium, and I knew he’d love this one.) She thought a moment, and said that it wasn’t. I must have looked disappointed, because she said, brightly, “If you make a donation to the book fund, you can take it home.” I did, and it’s hanging on their wall as I write.
Eventually the Library moved into larger quarters – still crowded, since Edyth continued to acquire more books, and she could never bear to get rid of any of her treasured volumes. She has said, “reading is the greatest joy there is,” and that she had read to her own children every day.
Many people prefer just to browse, or find a quiet corner and immerse themselves in a book right there. Children come in after school. She even organized a stamp club for them, using her own collection as a starting place, and offering the stamps that come on boxes of books that arrive from every English-speaking country in the world.
One visitor said, “If you love books it’s like coming into a candy store.” Another called it a sanctuary. I certainly found it so, and I’ll never forget the afternoon I spent there.
I understand Edyth slowed down a bit since my visit, but she never lost her love of books, and never failed in her mission to share her love of reading with every English reader in her part of Israel. She inspired a group of devoted volunteers who are carrying on the work and bringing new generations of readers to what Edyth called “…the greatest joy there is.”
What finer heritage can anyone leave?
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| Zelda Dvoretzky |
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