There’s Always Room for One More Story

There he is.

Baby Harlan. May 1962.

Just a few weeks old, comfortably tucked into his blankets, without the slightest idea what the world had in store for him.

We’ve spent nearly eight years sharing stories about my big brother. But this week’s collection of recently recovered family photographs takes us back to a time before either of us could remember—actually, before either of us was born.

And this time, our story isn’t entirely about Harlan.

It’s about a young bride named Zandra, a widowed mother named Ella, and what it truly means to make room for family.

## Before There Was Harlan

Our parents, Marvin and Zandra Yaffe, were married on February 6, 1960.

Longtime followers of our Legacy Blog may remember that Dad’s father, Harry Yaffe, died that very same week, while Mom and Dad were still on their honeymoon. Not even six days of unblemished wedded bliss.

But there’s a part of the story we’ve never really told.

Harry’s passing left behind his wife, Ella.

Grandma Ella was born in Russia in 1892, the daughter of Benjamin Tarnagal and Jennie Perris. She married Harry Yaffe in Manhattan on January 31, 1918, and together they raised five sons. Our dad was the youngest.

Harry was a kosher butcher, and the family operated Yaffe Kosher Meats at 34 West Bancroft Street in Toledo, Ohio. (Interestingly, Siegal’s Corned Beef was located just across the street at 34 East Bancroft.)

For many years—from 1941 through 1959, according to family records—Harry and Ella lived nearby at 34 West Delaware Street. Thanks to our recovered photographs, we can step back inside that home. Not just outside the front door, but right into the dining room: the wooden table, the chairs, the chandelier, and the place settings.

**This was the Yaffe family Shabbat table.**

Imagine five sons gathered around it—the conversations, the friendly arguments, the laughter, the holiday meals. Friday evenings when the family came together, as Jewish families have done for generations.

And then, suddenly, Harry was gone.

Ella had lost the man she’d been married to for 42 years. Meanwhile, our mother, barely 19 years old, was beginning married life with a new husband, a new household, and a grieving mother-in-law.

And what did Mom do?

She made room.

Mom and Dad welcomed Grandma Ella into their newlywed apartment on Douglas Road. Not for a weekend visit or an occasional holiday—Ella moved in permanently.

Having been married long enough myself, I know that sharing a home requires adjustment. But sharing your very first home as newlyweds with your mother-in-law? That deserves special recognition!

Har and I often talked about how Grandma Ella maintained a strictly kosher home throughout her marriage. As the wife of a kosher butcher, Jewish dietary traditions were part of her daily rhythm. Keeping kosher is more than just the food you buy; it involves separate cookware, dishes, utensils, and preparation routines. How that all worked in Mom and Dad’s new kitchen is something we’ll never fully know.

When they moved from Douglas Road to their home on Clarewood, Grandma Ella moved with them. She wasn’t simply a guest; she was family.

And soon, somebody else would need room, too.

## And Along Came Harlan

On April 25, 1962, Mom—then just 22 years old—gave birth to her first child: Harlan. My big brother.

Suddenly, Grandma Ella had a newborn grandson to hold and cherish. Imagine what that must have meant to a woman who had lost her husband only two years earlier.

The house on Clarewood now held three generations.

Then, in March 1964, along came me—two little boys born under two years apart. Knowing what I know about Harlan and myself, I suspect that house wasn’t especially quiet!

On April 3, 1965, Grandma Ella passed away in Toledo at the age of 73—just 22 days before Harlan’s third birthday, and shortly after my first.

Mom and Dad had been married just five years, and Dad had already lost both of his parents. For roughly the next sixteen years of his married life, he would raise his family without either parent by his side. Years later, Harlan and I would also come to know what it feels like to live without ours.

As children, we see our parents simply as Mom and Dad. We rarely pause to consider the lives they lived before us, the people they had already lost, or the weight they carried while making our childhoods feel so seamless.

## Grandma Ella Returns

While restoring old family photographs recently, we uncovered several images of Grandma Ella that have never appeared on the blog.

What a treat they’ve been.

One shows her sitting comfortably in the living room. Another finds her outdoors, smiling beside an enormous, brightly colored beach ball.

And then there’s one of my absolute favorites: Grandma Ella in the kitchen, proudly holding up an impressive catch of fish!

Those fish came from one of Dad’s work trips with The Lion Store—a Toledo institution that will undoubtedly get its own future Legacy Blog, given the remarkable photos we’ve uncovered from his years there.

But back to the fish: here stands the longtime wife of a kosher butcher, holding up Dad’s catch of the day. I’d love to know the conversation in the room when that photo was taken. Did Dad bring home dinner, or did he just bring home a lot of work for someone else? Anyone who has ever gone fishing knows that catching them is only half the job!

Perhaps there was even enough for another Shabbat meal.

What I love about these snapshots is that Ella isn’t just a historical figure or a name on a family tree. She’s a real person, enjoying ordinary, delightful moments of family life. We get a real glimpse of her personality.

Even more meaningful are the photographs showing Harlan and Grandma Ella together—the only known photos of them in existence.

Harlan had nearly three years with his grandmother. Did he remember her warmth? Did she hold him on her lap and tell him stories? Did she make him laugh? Did he have a special nickname for her?

I wish I could ask Harlan today. These photographs preserve sweet, fleeting moments that no one left alive can fully describe.

## The Woman Who Made Room

As I reflect on Grandma Ella, my thoughts keep returning to our mother, Zandra.

Mom was 19 when she married Dad. At 22, she became Harlan’s mother. By 25, she had supported her husband through the loss of both his parents while raising two toddlers. That is an extraordinary amount of emotional weight and responsibility for someone so young.

I wonder if Harlan and I ever truly appreciated what our parents navigated during those first five years. Mom had every reason to crave privacy and independence as a young bride. Instead, she opened her home and her heart to her widowed mother-in-law.

What a blessing our mother must have been to Grandma Ella in her final years. And what a source of wisdom and support Ella may have been to Mom as she learned to navigate marriage and motherhood.

We don’t know their daily routines or whether they always saw eye to eye, but we know they shared a home, a life, and a family.

## Making Room, Once Again

This week’s Torah portion is Noach—the story of Noah, his family, and the preservation of life through the great flood. It is a story of survival, responsibility, and generations carrying life forward together.

That feels deeply fitting as we look back on the Yaffe family story.

Harry and Ella gathered their five sons around the Shabbat table at 34 West Delaware. When Harry died, Marvin and Zandra welcomed Ella into their home on Douglas Road. When the family expanded to Clarewood, Ella moved right along with them.

Then came Harlan, and eventually, me.

Today, that old dining room table holds deep meaning. I don’t know who owns it now or if it still exists, but the family who gathered around it continues to find their way into our hearts and conversations.

And the little boy in the opening photograph—Baby Harlan—is the very reason we’ve continued these weekly Friday conversations since February 4, 2019.

There is something wonderfully circular about it all.

We began with Harlan. He led us back to Grandma Ella. Ella led us back to Harry and that warm Shabbat table. And the story brought us right back to our mother, who made room for them all.

At 19, Zandra welcomed a grieving mother-in-law into her newlywed home. Sixty-six years later, we are still receiving the warmth and lessons of that loving choice. And 61 years after Grandma Ella’s passing, these newly found photographs give her a place at our Friday table once again.

There’s always room for one more story.

And this Friday, that story belongs to Grandma Ella.

Shabbat Shalom.

Peace, Love and Equality for All!