Friends From Afar
A collection of musings on Iris from friends throughout Iris's life around the world. Quotes are attributed.
What a glorious friendship. Over 50 years of laughter, gaiety, and many sleepovers. Iris, an incredible jokester with movements of a graceful clown. And who can forget your annual xmas tin filled with jaw-testing, freshly-baked Mandelbrot. (we’ve saved all the fancy English tins). We will always have wonderful memories of those happy times.
Sue and Bill Siegler
Iris and I first met, over 50 years ago, at Blanche Evan's dance therapy studio in NYC. We shared a love of dance and a deep interest in the role of the creative arts in therapy, personal self expression and growth. These past few years, and especially these last few months, Oliver has been a profound part of Iris' life and conversation. Her voice lit up when she spoke about him. Oliver -- You have the legacy of your wonderful grandmother's creativity, intelligence, and love. Bob, Sarah, and Ian -- my deepest condolences. This is such a loss. I really miss talking and laughing with Iris. She was a vibrant presence in our lives and remains so in my memories.
Janet Irgang
The hardest thing about writing memories of Iris is that it seems that to do so is to accept that she is gone. But maybe that’s not right: maybe writing about her, on the contrary, is evidence that she is still here, in our heads, in our hearts.
No one will argue that Iris was not a serious person, serious about her relations with family and friends, serious about her dance, about her writing. But I think of Iris always with a smiling expression, not a “say cheese” smile, but a warm, welcoming expression, an “I am interested in you,” “I care about you” expression. Although in fact the very strongest memory I have of Iris is not a serious one: it’s of an evening, probably during the 1980s, at our walkup “railroad” apartment on East 90th Street, when she and I were convulsed with laughter about the word “tofu”. I wish I could remember more about the evening—had we had a dinner of tofu? Probably not all of us, since if given a choice I stay away from it! But no matter, for the last forty or so years, tofu has reminded me of Iris, and of our uncontrollable laughing, and it always makes me smile.
We were blessed that Iris was there, in almost all the places of our lives. I remember her in Williamstown, MA; 90th Street; Carl Schurz Park; apartment on 84th; her mother’s house in Brookfield, CT; Lewisburg; our house, and also friends’ houses, in the Hudson Valley; a friend’s house in Truro, MA, for my 60th birthday; our condominium in New Haven; our house in Westbrook, CT.
We first met at a party at Charles Haseloff’s loft, in the Village, in the ‘70s. The last meeting—pre-pandemic, so probably summer 2019 —was when Bob and Iris stayed over in Westbrook on a return trip to Lewisburg from visiting Bob’s brother on Cape Cod. I can see her sweet face, hear her voice—which, matching her expression, always made it clear that she was interested in what people were saying, and she cared about what they thought. We sat at our little breakfast table on the back porch and discussed small and large things—from our own projects to the world. Iris always listened well, and always had things to say worth listening to: she was level-headed, wise, funny. She appreciated, she cared, she remembered. We appreciated her tremendously, we cared about her tremendously, and we will always remember her.
Suzanne Boorsch
I didn't really know Iris but I knew Cookie (Iris's nickname) very well. We both went to the High School of Music and Art in the City where she was Cookie. There must have been a family attachment to snack food names because she had a cousin who lived in her building named Candy, alav ha-shalom. Cookie and Candy had a falling out years ago but mended their fences. I was relieved to hear that. I may have played a small part in their rift. Cookie deserved to be treated with care. Not that she was "special" but she was very special and never said an unkind word that I can recall. Bob, you were aware that at some point that Cookie and I "went out" for a good while. It was a serious relationship for high school kids; I lived on the West Side and Cookie in Riverdale so I took the subway from 86th Street and Broadway to 242nd Street and then a bus up "the hill" to see her. It took about an hour but was worth it. Just being around Cookie made me feel good. She did that to everyone. We rarely went out. I spent my allowance and the few bucks I earned delivering dry cleaning for Mr. Fischman on transportation. I often took a cab home and that was a fortune, like 3 bucks. We mostly stayed in her apartment but it was worth it just to see her. Her parents were always nice to me so just hanging out and talking and watching TV was comfortable. I think Cookie got her goodness gene from her mother.
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There was a group of us at M&A (Music & Art High School- now LaGuardia) who were a little family; Cookie was one of the kids, Kathy Russo the mother, Tammy Chipkin, me and I can't remember who else. It was a game 12 year olds played but we were young at heart and having fun was a priority for us. There was some heavy shit going on in the late 50's and early 60's. The civil rights movement was just starting to rear its head, we knew something was going on in Southeast Asia. Castro came to NY and there was a pro-Castro rally in Harlem at the Hotel Theresa where he was staying that we went to. This was the time of Allan Ginsburg, Jack Keroac, Satre, Camus, Beatniks and we were part of all that but we wanted to also have fun. There was nothing fun about Camus and Castro and at M&A we were caught up in all that. And there was Cookie who could turn a room full of moppy kids into a smiling, laughing crowd just by her presence. I didn't know this at the time but as I aged and looked back on my life, Cookie made things better. She was a leader without leading, an innovator without innovating and more of a driving force of us kids then we knew at the time.
I lost touch with Iris after high school and don't remember seeing her except, maybe, at our 25th reunion and again at our 50th. God, 17 year old kids are stupid. I don't think either of us knew why we split up but seeing her after 50 years was like seeing her last week. Her smile and warmth was radiant. She told me she was having health problems but you would have never known if she didn't tell you. We stayed in touch by email and the phone but, sadly, only occasionally and continued our busy lives. I lived in Pound Ridge in Northern Westchester and was probably only a half hour from Sarah but never connected and then along came COVID so that option was ruled out. I would have loved to meet Sarah and her son - maybe that could happen. I also would have loved to have Cookie meet my kids and Grandkids. This may be too much pressure and presumptuous of me but, Sarah, it's on you to carry on what and who your mother was. I only know a little bit but I do know she was there for other people, kind and caring, smart and talented, beautiful and the kind of person who made this world a better place just because she was there. Aleha HaShalom
Richard Mishkin
We were both mini's of petite height, and called each other by the name Midget. Decidedly not PC yet we had no sense of offending anyone on height. We used it to express affection. I remember her mom who called her Iris, which sounded jarring as Richard has already said no one called her that. A lovely, imaginative, kind classmate and friend that lived a wondrous life — when we knew her in high school and clearly all her years dancing, teaching, mothering Sarah, and married to a fellow alum!
Kind regards from Tel Aviv where I've been living since 2002.
Tamar Chipkin Orvell "during teen and stupider years, Tammy", classmate from Music & Art High School in Manhattan
