Beloved husband of Jane Grossman (nee Blau); devoted father of Alan James, Robert (Rachel) Grossman, Douglas (Anna) Grossman-McKee and Linda (Eric, deceased) Carlson; former father-in-law of Cindy James; loving grandfather of Andrew James, Elizabeth Grossman, Susannah Grossman, Alex Grossman-McKee, Brent (Catherine Borders) Grossman-Mckee, Morgan (Susie) MCClellon, Evan Grossman-McKee, Geoffrey Grossman-McKee and Chelsea Carlson; great-grandfather of Briar, Esma and Juni MCClellon and Claire McKee; dear brother of the late Nancy Hamel.
Though he died peacefully that night, the news on May 24, 2024 that Ronald “RG” Lee Grossman had died at the age of 91 hit family and friends like a slapshot through the kitchen door. His loss is perhaps extra hard because he was always the one who excelled at dealing calmly and effectively with problems ranging from hockey mishaps to profound grief. Fortunately, he leaves behind examples for coping: for the former, simply replace windows and doors with plexiglass and swap hard rubber pucks for plastic ones; and for the latter, assuage sadness with stories, laughter, and enduring love. Also fortunately, RG leaves the world with plenty of vivid memories of his life, a wealth of dad jokes and dry humor, and infinite reasons to keep loving him—and to continue his legacy of selfless giving.
From his birth on January 8, 1933 in Cleveland, Ohio, RG’s parents, Alvin and Dorothy Grossman, successfully raised him to embody traditional Midwestern values of hard work, generosity, and commitment to others. Despite being kicked out of Sunday school for chasing a classmate out the window (hey! The kid stole his pencil!), RG’s character was also shaped by his Jewish faith.
He was a lifelong member of Suburban Temple (and though there’s no need to mention that he didn’t always heed dietary laws, get in touch if you want his recipe for the incredible marinated shrimp he brought to family celebrations). Perhaps the seminal event of his life was encountering the charming Jane Helen Blau in elementary school (though he joked it was her family’s home with butler’s quarters that first attracted him.) Jane would become his high school sweetheart, and on December 19, 1954, his wife—despite their wedding being overshadowed by multiple last-minute cancellations thanks to a Browns-Lions end of season game during a championship year. The Browns lost—but RG and Jane were the real winners, their marriage lasting nearly 70 years until his death.
That marriage showcased true mutual devotion, with Jane sticking by Ron despite husbandly shortcomings, like failing to obtain Jane’s approval for converting their backyard to the aforementioned hockey rink every winter. And not getting her okay before encouraging his children’s musical talents by impulsively purchasing a piano, arranging pricy lessons, and scheduling hours of practicing while he was at work but Jane was home. One might also argue that he should have asked before indulging the kids’ other whims with things like don’t-try-this-at-home chemistry labs and mess-making art studios. And we aren’t certain she approved of his teaching their underage kids to drive, ostensibly so they could shift the cars around in the little bit of driveway not covered by ice. But in exchange for those shortcomings, Ron stuck fiercely by Jane, always looking for ways to make her happy. In recent years when health problems forced her into a nursing home, Ron was by her side every single day (with only COVID causing a frustrating hiatus)—literally right up until the end: the day before he died, hours before he was admitted to the ICU, he had someone wheel him to her room so he could spend his usual visit with her.
Not surprisingly, their remarkable union produced equally remarkable descendants: four talented children (twins Bob and Alan, Doug, and Linda), nine amazing grandchildren, and an ever-growing brood of going-places great-grandchildren. It has also served as an inspiration for their family (one of their sons and a grandson even followed suit by marrying their childhood sweethearts) as well as for so many others who have witnessed their commitment to each other.
In 1951, hoping to escape the war, RG graduated early from Shaker Heights High School to enroll in Ohio State. There he excelled academically—and also joined a student protest over an increase in tuition (from $15 to $20 a quarter!). The highlight of the protest for him was when he was knocked to the ground by the crowd—and hoisted to safety by the future Heisman trophy winner and NFL star Howard “Hopalong” Cassady.
The Korean War outlasted RG’s college career and he subsequently served in the US Army—but thanks to his lifelong skills in making and keeping friends, he was able to persuade a former fraternity brother to get him assigned to an accounting position in California. His return to Cleveland after his service landed him in the family wholesale grocery business at Merchants (in order to help his father). When Merchants eventually closed, he shifted to working for Gold Medal Food Services.
Later, feeling ready for a change, he accepted a job on the East Coast—but when the prospect of moving looked to be too stressful for his family (particularly for a sensitive son), he did just what anyone who knew him would expect: he put his family’s preferences above his personal desires and found a job with Miesel Food Service that allowed them to remain in Cleveland. Miesel was subsequently bought by Sysco, and Ron worked there until retirement as VP of Merchandising. He endeared himself there by just being himself—genuinely interested in others’ lives and considerate and respectful. Probably his ever-full, always available candy jar helped too (the never-empty jar of candy to share has followed him, effectively, through life).
The CFO there was one of many who encountered RG’s legendary generosity: the first time they met, the CFO admired RG’s tie—so RG took it off and gave it to him. The CFO was glad he hadn’t admired his shirt, because RG was literally one to give you the shirt off his back. That impulse to give away whatever he had but someone else needed or wanted was perhaps RG’s only shortcoming—and, as one friend noted, “When the worst you can say about someone is that he was generous to a fault, well, he did okay.” Loyal? Not just to his family. Once you were RG’s friend or adopted family, you could count on him for life.
He remembered not just people’s names, but their family members’ and pets’ too, their likes and dislikes, their attitudes and opinions, and showed up for their big life events. He maintained ties that most people let slide over time, for example continuing to meet monthly for lunch with a group of childhood friends and to all his many loving nieces and nephews.
After he and Jane downsized and moved into an apartment, Ron quickly befriended all the staff, residents, and regular visitors to the Chelsea Condominiums—and did the same at Menorah Park when Jane moved there. He never gave up on a sports team (though as anyone from Cleveland can tell you that can be tempting) and rooted for the Shaker Raiders, the Buckeyes, and the Cleveland Browns, Cavaliers, and Indians/Guardians his whole life. He kept a special place in his heart for hockey teams, from the preschool great-grandkids’ teams falling about the ice through the many age groups of Shaker hockey leagues and school teams to the now-defunct Cleveland Barons where he served as the marketing director.
Intelligent? Curious? Cultured? Hard to know where to start. Well-read and thoughtful, RG learned new things every day of his life. He not only embraced technology at a stage of life when many people shun it, he sought out tips for using it more effectively. He based his opinions on well-researched facts—but remained open to having his mind changed. His knowledge was encyclopedic, both broad and deep, and he generously shared what he knew and you might like to know too. (Did you know, for example, that if you let canned pumpkin age for a year before baking with it, your baked goods will be extra flavorful? It’s true!)
RG pursued new ideas, experiences, and people. He loved the arts, particularly music, and sought out new performers and genres to listen to and share with others. In truth, there seemed to be few things where he couldn’t find something to like about them—except tomatoes. And sour cream. And certain politicians with a penchant for cruelty and recklessness.
It’s a fact that RG was never a head of state, a star of stage and screen, or a professional athlete. He didn’t cure cancer (because he’d be with us still if he had), solve the climate crisis, or even invent a better mousetrap. But for his family, friends, and the multitudes lucky enough to have known and loved him, his death will have at least as great an impact as the death of any luminary could have. And even more importantly, the fact of his having lived, and of having lived the way he did, means he has left the world much better than before—and given a blueprint for all who survive him for how to keep nudging it in the right direction. We thank him and celebrate him.
No services have been scheduled at this time.
Contributions in Ronald’s memory are suggested to the charity of choice.
Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be left for the Grossman family at www.bkbmc.com.
Arrangements under the direction of Berkowitz-Kumin-Bookatz Memorial Chapel (216) 932-7900.
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