Stanley Kessler

“Is everyone OK?” On the very last day he was awake, Stan Kessler – loving husband, devoted father, caring brother, playful grandfather, storytelling uncle, and trusted friend -- wanted to be sure the people around him were taken care of. Assured of that, he closed his eyes and passed peacefully several days later on the morning of November 7th.

Stan put others first and himself last. He’d offer his sweater if he thought you were cold. He’d empty his pockets for a homeless person. As he got older and sometimes confused, he wouldn’t eat until it was clear to him that he wasn’t leaving someone else with less to eat. Mostly, he put Brinah, his wife of 68 years, at the front of the line. Everyday he made sure she was comfortable, attended to, safe, healthy, and entertained. He would not leave her side until she passed in August.

Stan had many jobs over the course of this life and he’d tell you about all of them. He put out beach chairs in Atlantic City, cleaned sponges at Lit Brothers department store, and set bowling pins on the boardwalk. He started and ran a business building houses in Bucks County. For many years he taught reading to inner city first graders in the Philadelphia Public School system. One day a bank manager walked up and said, “Mr. Kessler, you taught me to read.”

One job that made him most proud was supporting Brinah’s art career. He would hand frame and market all of her pieces. Her success as an artist was one of the greatest joys of his life, because they were true partners always in support of each other. They marched together for women’s rights, civil rights, and an end to the Vietnam War where Stan would unfold worn pictures of Vietnamese children burnt by napalm.

He loved being a father, a grandfather, and an uncle. He never tired of the games and jokes that kids wanted to play and hear. He loved having an audience to tell his many, many, many stories. Like Brinah, he was a parent that our friends would feel comfortable talking to. If you asked how he was doing, he’d actually answer. When he asked how you were doing, he actually wanted to know.

As a father he was loving, attentive, trusting and believing. He thought his children – Andrew and Jim – could do anything. He instilled in them confidence and a belief in themselves. He made us who we are and put morality, integrity and honesty before any material success.

He had many friends in life, but none closer than Rhoda and Morty Slakoff who were kindred spirits and shared the same off-beat sense of humor. Even today, Rhoda’s dog is named Boysie, which is the nickname Stan had since he was a baby when his older sister Marilyn could not pronounce his name but knew that little baby was a boy.

One of his greatest loves – even greater than crisp bacon, well-done to the point of burnt – was Philadelphia. He was a Philly guy through and through, with the “deys” and “dems” and “youses.” As the effects of Alzheimer’s diminished his capacities he lived further back in time on the streets of Philadelphia with Milton, Toddy and Skippy, Aunt May, Cousin Eddie, his mom and dad, and big sister.

Stan leaves behind many loved ones. His sister Marilyn who cherished every moment with him and was as kind and loving as a sister could be. His two sons Andrew and Jim, and their wives June and Jane. The grandchildren he spoiled with attention Monica, Mitchell, Kelsey and Liberty. Brinah’s sister Helen and her boys Nicolas and Olivier, and Brinah’s brother Richard and his children Bryna, Dylan and Eli.

To the end he kept his sense of humor, the twinkle in his eye and his devotion to Brinah. “I want to lay next to her,” was one of the final words he spoke.

We’re OK, dad.

Stan Kessler: December 17, 1931 – November 7, 2024