Norman Weinstein was born Nathan Weinstein on December 5, 1917 in Brooklyn, New York to a Russian Jewish father and mother, Sam Weinstein and Mary Shub. He lost his father just two years later in the influenza pandemic that killed 20-40 million people worldwide. Norman grew up in a time when Ashkenazi culture thrived, and his first language was Yiddish. He was raised by his mother and his step-father, who were both garment workers.
When Normans younger sister Betty showed great potential as an opera singer, everyone in the family, including his sister Lee, worked hard to pay for her singing lessons. The family’s hard work paid off! Betty went on to become a well-known singer and settled in Italy, where she lives now with her husband, daughter and grandson. Lee went on to make a life of her own, which was tragically cut short on September 24, 1975. Her memory lives on, however, as her daughter Sandy continues to thrive and raise her own family.
In the meantime, Norman saw the birth of his only child, Sam Weinstein in 1948 in Los Angeles, California where Norman found work as a factory worker. His marriage to Selma Deitch did not work out, and she eventually took Sam to the West Indies and England where they lived with her husband CLR James and had their own set of rather extraordinary adventures that continue to this day.
Norman stayed in Los Angeles and saw his son occasionally. He bought a beautiful house in Lincoln Heights in east Los Angeles, an area that would be home to the centre of LA’s Chicano Civil Rights movement in the 60s and 70s. From his little hill, he could see Dodger Stadium, where he would spend a lot of time over the years. In his enormous garden, he would tend to plum, lemon, and fig trees as well as a grape vine.
Norman was a factory worker, a machinist, and he loved working with wood and working with electronics. Early on he thought computers were going to be the wave of the future, and he bought everything he could get his hands on. This is a habit he seems to have passed on to both his son and at least one of his granddaughters. He also had a little wood shop in his back yard and built furniture for family.
Norman was very social, and he often visited with his neighbour Freddie, who I think was really a kindred spirit in many ways.
Norman died on September 25, 1988 after a painful battle with prostate cancer that was found too late. I believe the illness that was incredibly difficult for my family, particularly my mother and father, but I know little of it because Norman did an amazing job of hiding his pain from me. A month and two days after my sixth birthday, I lost the first man I was ever really close with, my grandfather, my Norman.
The loss was the end of an extraordinary friendship that began when I was born. Norman clearly loved the idea of a grandchild and showered me with all of the love a kid could ask for. It was with Norman that I fell in love with Dodger stadium and with baseball. It was Norman who taught me to believe that one day girls would be allowed to play (still hasn’t happened, but I’m still waiting). It was Norman who introduced me to electronics, to computers and to little robots (we were building one when he died). He was the one who first dreamed I could be a scientist. And he was the one who taught me to love Venice Beach in all of its Bohemian glory.
Our two favourite TV shows were Knight Rider and MacGyver. We used to make a bowl of popcorn and then watch as the adventures unfolded. I would sit in his lap in his big, comfy recliner, and we would watch MacGyver get out of a crazy situation with a set of matches and some dental floss. Or Kit saving Mike yet again from random bad guy.
All of this was after dinner, where Norman often served experiments in red meat. I was a picky eater from early on, so we made a deal. I would try a bite, and if I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to eat anymore. I almost always ended up eating everything, although I think now I am still only willing to eat brussel sprouts because they remind me of him.
Some days we went to see the Dodgers or to Venice Beach, where I often got a hat or a pair of sunglasses. One of the coolest parts was getting to go in his green Volkswagen Karmann Gia.
In fact, one of the most awesome stories I have ever heard about Norman involves this car. When my dad was a teenager living in England, Norman figured out that it was cheaper to buy the Karmann Gia in Germany, pick it up himself, drive it around Europe and then have it shipped home to Los Angeles, than to use other forms of transportation for a trip around Europe. So Norman went to England, picked my father up, went to the factory in Germany, got his car, and drove it to see his sister Betty in Italy. Eventually he drove my father back to England and then shipped his car to Los Angeles on a boat, while he flew home. My step-mother Maria tells me that Norman was proud that he used to save all of his money so that he could fly to wherever my father was — a glamorous means of travel in those days.
From Italy they went to Israel on what I believe is both my father’s and grandfather’s only trip to Palestine. Norman’s relationship with Israel was complex, I believe. Like many Jews, he wanted Jews to have a safe place to go. But he wasn’t a zionist in the sense that we think of zionists today. He was part of the zionist movement that lost during the battle for the soul of Israel during the 30s and 40s. He believed in sharing the land.
It is because of Norman that I take my Jewish heritage seriously. As the Jewish New Year approaches, I reflect my identity and realize that I have clung to Judaism in part because I want to cling to Norman. He was a Yiddish man. He spoke the language and spoke a bit of it with me. He grew up in the culture, and he took his responsibility as a member of the world diaspora seriously. Like him, I believe the story of Israel is my responsibility. And I can only hope that he would support the anti-zionist, anti-racist work that I do now.
Having said all of that, I should say that Norman, with me, was all about having fun. I don’t remember getting in trouble with him often, or at all really. I remember love and laughter. It was with Norman that I learned how wonderful life could feel.
It has been twenty years since I lost the man I loved so much, and it has taken me almost as long to dream about him and begin to find a way to have him in my life. I realized a few months ago that I often felt angry because he wasn’t here to help me through the tough times. And then I realized he was. Norman would tell me to have fun, if he were here. He would tell me how proud he was that I achieved his dream of studying science. And he would tell me to enjoy it, to have good times and not let anxieties get the better of me. He would tell me to try. So I try to keep that in my mind.
Norman died 20 years ago today, just one day before his son’s 40th birthday. He was cremated, and the ashes were buried under an apricot tree in his back yard. But there was no real funeral, no real eulogy, no celebration of his life. I think that these kinds of rituals are important for closure, and I’m sorry that we did not do it. So today, Norman, I am offering a telling of your life and of my love. I hope that you would be proud of me. I hope that you are with me. I hope that you are watching Maya, my sister that you never met and seeing your joie de vivre in her. I certainly do.
I’m sorry that the last time I saw you, I was angry because you were having me removed from your hospital room. But I understand why now, and I know that you were not mad at me for wanting to stay with you. What an amazing love you offered me. Thanks for everything, and perhaps I’ll see you soon enough, but hopefully not too soon.
Oh yeah, and if the Red Sox or the Dodgers can win the World Series this year, that would be great. Let the baseball go
ds know that it’s important 
In the meantime, I ask readers of my blog to honour my grandfather by having fun. Take five minutes out of your day and do something you really like to do!
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Norman must’ve been an amazing friend and even though he’s no longer with you I can see that he’s passed on the best of himself. Never forgetting to have fun, working hard and not giving up even when it seems impossible, fiddling with electronics and gadgets of every kind (can we build a robot?), loving baseball and all its glory (yes, I am now addicted), driving long distances and finding peace in that. I can see that you also have his strength, even though you’ve been through so much, you still find a way to push on with your head up.
Your relationship with Norman reminds me of what great friendships people can foster and how much love can be shared even if it was just for 6 years. Perhaps, all is not lost; great things can happen if enough love and care is put into it. I often stress out about things that most people don’t have the luxury of thinking about, so I should remind myself to have more fun along the way and appreciate what I already have.
So, for today, I’m going to take my 5 mins and watch Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. It will be glorious and I’ll laugh out loud so the whole office can hear me. Well, maybe I’ll watch it at home.
Well the first comment on wrote i lost because i am a tech idiot! so this is a second attempt.
your tribute was lovely and moving and as i read it i could see norman, his laughter, his calling you mychanda.
he was a big support for me as i struggled with all of what many single mothers struggle with. he was so very loyal to your sunday outings to venice beach, he really loved that time. norman taught me to drive, he was patient and a good teacher.
we had some really good times. every xmas i made a holiday breakfast/brunch which norman loved, he would come over for that and then come back over for xmas dinner. he loved watching you enjoy opening your presents. i always was sure to get chopped liver from the deli that made it the best and it was enjoyed by norman and by all.
the night before you were born i was in norman’s jacuzi that he practically built himself. and the morning of your birth, norman was due to fly to new york, but he made sure he came over as soon as he heard and held you in his arms, big smiles!
and yes, he was ahead of his time when it came to computers. we kept the round one robot he was building with you for quite some time after he passed away. he wrote a pamphlet about computers, he understood how they would revolutionize everything, and he wrote it likely before bill gates had a clue. he had his own genius.
he loved a good and heated political discussion, and he had wide ranging opinions and was not intimidated by anybody. and he loved his boy sam, he was so very proud of him, and by extension he cared for me too. but he loved his chanda best of all.
and whatever misgivings he might have had about me, he was very kind to me and to my family. he visited mom in brooklyn when he was there and he really got a hoot out of your auntie roz, he loved to go out with the two of us when she was visiting.
and did he hold the place for your birthday parties in the park! he took his job seriously, the plan was norman would go early and take a lawn chair with his hat on, and hold the spot until party time, where you and your friends would have a blast and sometimes end up naked in the wading pool. this went on for several years of parties.
norman’s illness was a blow to us all. when he was ill he never really complained. we did what we could for him during his illness, organizing macrobiotic food and making sure he was taken care of. i was really angry with the hospital that he went to for not discovering his cancer early, they should have, but he was just another working class bloke so why should they care!!! outrageous. but norman took it all in stride and focussed on healing not on anger and he survived as he could.
we suspect he might have blacked out briefly once because he got into an accident with his lovely sports car, rare for him.
norman lived in a community that knew him for decades and of which he and they were actually a community, rare in LA, he was close with his neighbors, even when there were spats if you know what i mean. there was a caring and respect there as far as i know. and his garden was spectacular, a true gem. and when the earth shook and i was terrified, and you luckily ran to your father when he called and saved you from injury, afterwards we packed up and went to norman’s lovely redwood home that withstood the earthquake like a rock. he helped to calm our fears. (i was ready to move into a yurt, anything where things could fall on you!).
there are so many norman stories.
when he died you were so very sad you grieved and cried for weeks, i was very worried, actually scared. finally i got some advice from a native american healer and elder and it helped you and you were able to get out of that faze. it was so sad you loss of someone who was such a constant loving person in your life when there was so much uncertainty about and some displacement. my heart and gut hurt for you, but i could not stop the pain you felt although i wished i could. and your dad kept his grief in silence, the stalwart, but i know how much he loved his dad, a tremendous loss for him as well. we had all expected to have norman practically a neighbor around for many years. i will never forget him, and how he helped me to adjust to living in los angeles, and how he built the bookshelves that still stand in my study and in your room (to the specifications to fit the set of wooden blocks a gift from your auntie roz that you used to train yourself to be a mathematician and a scientist). he was an all round kind of guy.
and also the visits he took us to his relatives on the other side of town (the side with some money) for the jewish holidays. he was so proud of you always.
and i am sure norman is still with you as you go through all the challenges you have been through, even the time of your accident, in times of crisis, and all the happy times too. he is holding you in his loving arms. he did not get to meet his other grand daughter maya but he would have loved her as fiercely as he loved you, and he would have loved lucy. take strength in his memory, in the fact that he was with us and we got to share in his life.
always your proud mom, with love and hugs.
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