Dr. Sanford Lewis Greenberg

Sanford Greenberg died peacefully November 20th, guided by his wife Mary and family into a light of everlasting love. He was loved and admired by so many, and there is much to say about him. We each have a story to tell - a unique vein that runs through our lives. For dad there is not one, but many stories to tell, a few of which we will offer this afternoon.

Friends who knew him well called him “Sandy,” the dear and rascal-ly mensch, or good soul. To his patients, he was “El Doctor,” a brilliant and deeply caring professional who became a talented doctor, hospital leader, and investor. To his kids and 10 grandkids he was “Zeyde,” a doting father and grandfather. And to Mary, he was “That guy,” in their love story. The story that punctuated his life and especially the last years of Sandy’s life is that of the love between Sandy and Mary who adored, played, kibitzed, teased and cared for one another until his last days.

SANDY: Sandy was born in south Philly, son of humble Jewish parents on June 19, 1935. His burly dad Issac, known as Ike, was a furrier, a maker of fur coats for the cold winters, a bar owner, and sometimes boxer. Ike was known for his sweetness and generosity. He once custom fit a fur coat for one of Sandy’s teachers who couldn't afford one. Thoughts about warding off the cold guided dad’s lifelong dream of one day moving to California. His mom Adele helped run the family’s bar. In part-Yiddish, she would tell stories of crossing the Atlantic as a teenager in the 20’s to flee pogroms in Lithuania. Sandy’s South Philly street was full of relatives and my father would lovingly recall Ike’s heftiness as Ike would consume several additional dinners on the way home before sitting down to his own family’s supper. This is no doubt where dad’s voracious appetite and appreciation for food came from.

G-d, Sandy loved food. He used to sigh and emit “mmms” of deep gratification with each bite. He loved telling us about his favorite dishes. Tzimmes (a traditional Jewish stew of roasted vegetables), corned beef on rye, Italian Iicees, Cherries Jubilee, and of course chocolate. And he used to say that when he surreptitiously tasted his first bacon cheeseburger, he was sure that the most anti-semitic act was keeping that deliciousness from Jews. In his later years, he unsurprisingly befriended a chocolatier and found ways to dip anything and everything - fruits and especially Halvah - in dark chocolate. Every visit by a grandchild was an excuse to return to the chocolate lady. That capacity to savor food … and life… will stay with us all.

Dad was generally a good kid. He did exceptionally well in school. Helped out around the house. Obeyed his parents. His childhood framed the beginnings of Sandy’s rare blend of humility, competence, and empathy. When dad talked about getting in trouble, he would describe it with lightheadedness, and usually at the hands of a friend or a classmate. One of his favorite stories was about Eddie Fischer, who kidnapped and drove dad to a nightclub in Maryland,barely back in time for a Medical School final, which, of course Sandy did fine on. He had friends who taught him how to wear his hair in the fashionable, yet “greasy DA” of the time, and cruise the Atlantic City boardwalk to meet girls. There was a high school classmate who cheated off dad which resulted in them both getting F’s on a test. Dad remained quiet and patient, only to have the teacher reveal at semester's end that he knew very well that dad hadn’t cheated. The teacher just wanted to see if the other guy would fess up. Dad never carried umbrage for these life lessons - for Eddie’s shenanigans or a coach’s cutting him from the team, or a classmate’s missteps - they accumulated as experiences for Sandy to find his path as a person of integrity, generosity, and light spirit.

Dad was a strong, vital man but he admitted he was not the most agile of athletes…we all knew we got our athleticism from Mary. He joked that when he tried out for his high school baseball team, the coach asked him his grades, then sent him off the field with the words, “Greenberg, stick to the books.” But that didn’t stop dad from becoming an avid runner and outdoors person. Even though Sandy grew up in the urban neighborhoods of Philly, he learned to enjoy the sunshine, mountains, ocean, and beaches of California. He joined the Sierra Club and backpacked in the Sierra Nevadas, often hiking to alpine levels to fish streams for trout and sleep under the stars with his kids and buddies. He loved deep sea fishing, often visiting the tip of Baja California. He told us he was proud to be called a “fisherman.” Before it was popular to be healthy, Dad began eating yogurt and granola, and took up marathon running in his 40s. Fred, our cock-a-poo, would go crazy when he joined dad after a day’s work and headed out, ears flapping, for a 12-miler. Sandy continued running into his 70s. Dad also learned to downhill ski, if you can call it that, to be with his wife and friends, and later his kids on the slopes of the Sierras.

EL DOCTOR: Dad won two scholarships in his life, both of which would define his future. His grades and strength of character in high school earned him the Frederick Mann scholarship and four years paid tuition to Temple University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Similar college grades earned him a full ride at Temple’s Medical School, and secured his path to becoming a doctor … And thank G-d for that.

Dad was destined for medicine and cared for so many in his career. He had an uncanny diagnostic sense, combining a deep wealth of knowledge with intuition and attunement for others. He was a family practitioner who used a combination of interviewing, kibbitzing, touch, and interpreting of medical data, to get to know his patients and choose the optimal course of action. We kids thought our dad was famous because his patients often approached him while we were out and about, to share their gratitude and family milestones.

Sanford’s medical practice originated in Hacienda Heights, California and spanned thirty-eight years. He was delighted to welcome his eldest son Bruce into his practice later on. He spent tireless hours delivering babies in the dead of night, practicing hospital medicine, providing orthopedic care, and performing surgical procedures with colleagues in his clinic and at the hospital. He even learned acupuncture to care for his wife’s asthma, and incorporated it into treatment of patients as well.

His career evolved from providing individualized medical care to the business of medicine. He organized and led independent physicians organizations, along with serving on the boards of several hospitals. He helped build a hospital in Brea, California. He was committed to excellent doctoring and learning to manage the growing costs of medicine affordably through preventative care. He became president of an Independent Physician’s Association (IPA) and ultimately organized the sale of this IPA to Queen of the Valley Hospital in West Covina, California - where ultimately many of his children were born. He even brought his love of food to the business of medicine, hiring a 4-star chef to cook for the doctors at Brea Hospital, in lieu of tongue-numbing hospital food.

He had a head for business too. His interest and capacity for finances increasingly drew him to the stock market and managing his own portfolio, in addition to those of many personal friends and relatives. He did so well in this final professional venture that Merrill Lynch tried to hire him to manage portfolios.

ZEYDE: But dad was ready for his next chapter - that of becoming the doting father and grandfather. He was very proud of all his children’s career accomplishments, who all mastered high level graduate degrees in specialties, not surprisingly, affiliated with the care and education of others. But what he relished most was our evolution into extended families and sharing in the joy and tribulations of parenting.

He retired early to participate actively in the lives of the next generation of Greenbergs. He tracked everyone’s progress, calling daily with the proverbial, “So how are my boys doing?” “How’s my girl?” To which we parents responded, “And what are we? Chopped liver?” In the face of a grandkid’s new diagnosis, he fretted and showed up to help in whatever way he could. As the grandkids grew older, he became babysitter, playmate, writing tutor, travelmate, backpacking guide, fisherman buddy, and introducer of all things chocolate or sweet in spite of parent protestations. He was a connector of people and when we got quiet or busy, he reached out and cajoled us back. Dad was glue in building the Greenberg Mishpacha - bonds which we now strengthen in the face of his passing.

THAT GUY: Dad’s story doesn’t end but inspires us in his final phase on this earth. He and Mary always shared a powerful spark, respect, and adoration that was uniquely theirs. To her, he was “That guy.” But dad also allowed for an evolution in his relationship to Mary that is rare for a man of his generation - a switching in the role of career person and caregiver. Raised by big and strong women, Sandy was proud that, as he moved towards retirement, his wife became a professional and leader in mental health, a provider, and ultimately a caretaker to him.

Mary vividly remembers the moment he walked up the stairs of her Philadelphia apartment, in a blue suit jacket and red tie, handsome and always bearing food gifts. Deli and Cherries Jubilee.) They had a strong connection that survived many trials and triumphs and only deepened in its 63 years. They shared in their desire to build a large family, to be healthy and active, to travel, and to have fun. Dad celebrated Mary’s instinct for fun and love of a party and was so happy to be along for the ride.

When Mary shifted into her career, he encouraged, supported, and consulted her through her studies, clinical work, and her ultimate role as Executive Director of Turning Point Center for Families and Youth.

Sandy was a competent provider during the marriage and caregiver, but he recognized when the roles needed to shift and his love expanded to embrace all the changes. Their love shifted and deepened as Sandy’s health status changed. His last words to the rabbi when asked about his life lessons were “Listen to your wife. She is smarter than you and loves you.” He punctuated this with “Genucht” or “enough said,” some of his last words this week. And to us he thanked Mary for her doting and care in his last days. Mary and Sandy stayed connected and close throughout, holding, cuddling, and whispering to one another. Their love and adaptability to one another stands as dad’s final legacy to the rest of us and for Mary to hold forever.

We are receiving many messages about Sanford, Sandy, El Doctor, and That Guy. Referring to him as:

A “glorious light,” “A beacon of light,” “A light that we will all carry forward,”

“Remarkable spirit,”

“A wonderful man who lights up every room,”

“One of the best people I have ever known - so full of life and love for everyone,”

“A love,”

“A giant,”

“A healer,”

“A role model for all,”

“The luckiest human being on the planet and universe for having created and been blessed with such a loving and devoted family”

“A father to me” and to so many who were not blood relatives,

And “a mensch.”

Thank you all for your loving and respectful words. They help us hold these lessons in our hearts. The Greenbergs

Sandy is survived by his wife and large family:

His wife Mary Lisik Greenberg

His children and grandchildren:

Bruce Greenberg, his wife Linda Greenberg, and children, Bailey, Jenna, and Sophia

Ingrid Greenberg, her wife Shannon Matteson

Lisa Greenberg, and her children Benjamin and David

Ari Greenberg, his wife Erin Greenberg, and children, Abigail, Jake and Owen

David Greenberg, his wife Jodi Greenberg, and children, Emma Belle and Gage

In lieu of flowers we ask to consider donations to the organizations listed below