After grandpa died, I realized how little he talked about his fascinating life
Opinion: Like many in his generation, Irwin Landau lived a fascinating life but never seemed to think his circumstances were exceptional.
I might not have been here. But my grandfather miraculously survived a U.S. Army Air Corps bomber crash during World War II, so this story can be written.
He never spoke about the details, but news reports say it happened the night of Aug. 8, 1943, during a training flight. My grandfather’s aircraft plowed into the harsh desert 120 miles west of Salt Lake City.
Minutes later the bomber was slammed by a freight train, resulting in a 26-car pileup and what the Associated Press called a “dizzy pyramid of destruction.” One pilot was killed, though 10 others were dragged from the wreckage and survived, including Irwin Landau.
When our family immigrated to America through Ellis Island, they kept in contact with their Polish community by creating the Young Friends of Lentshizer organization. Last month during Thanksgiving week, my grandfather, 96, was buried alongside his compatriots in the group’s dedicated plot in a New York cemetery.
His death reminded me that he rarely if ever discussed his origins. He didn’t ruminate and wasn’t nostalgic. The irony is his was actually a fascinating life.
Unpretentious, unsentimental: That was him
Irwin Landau was an unpretentious working man busting his hump in uptown Manhattan selling and repairing jewelry for most of his post-military career. Blue collar was all we knew.
But many not-so-distant kin were from the opulent side of the tracks. Like his cousin, Aaron Feuerstein, a famous textile manufacturer and philanthropist. Or the late Dr. Arthur Landau, who was on the team of doctors that performed the first heart transplant in South Africa. Digging further, he was descended from renowned 1700s Jewish philosopher Rabbi Yechezkel Landau.
Yet grandpa stubbornly didn’t keep in touch with family, beyond a few people. Not sentimental, he’d throw away old pictures. But he could also be fiercely loyal, taking care of his immediate family with home loans, elbow grease installing a living room floor, and often bringing food and gifts to our home.
Not one to question things in general, I remember grandpa’s response to one of the biggest earthquakes in New York City history. I happened to be sleeping over at my grandparents’ Queens house the night of the Ardsley quake, Oct. 19, 1985.
Jolted awake and seeing everything in the room shaking and making noise like something out of “Poltergeist,” my disoriented 9-year-old self called for help.
“Go back to bed, it was just a big truck,” replied my grandfather from downstairs.
For the record, it was not just a big truck.
Grandpa has a lot of catching up to do
My parents divorced in the 1980s and mom moved my sister and I across the country to Arizona. From then through college, my grandparents wrote me a tome of letters and even attended my graduation at Arizona State University. They always encouraged me to focus on my studies to set myself up for success.
Grandpa was never the same after my grandmother ascended in 2011. He lost one of his three sons, my father Joel in 1991, and took it very hard. But losing his wife of 60-plus years was most likely his soul’s knock-out punch.
His health was always great until midway through 2020, when he started losing his faculties and relatives relocated him from Florida to a New York assisted living facility. Still driving until 95, this was probably the last straw.
Losing his independence, in my opinion, made my grandfather check out.
Shortly before he died, we spoke on the phone. He couldn’t recall much. But he told me he talked recently with his late brother Norman.
Some people would posit that’s an old man losing his mind. But to me, Irwin Landau was transitioning to the other side and starting to interact with souls there, including his brother who crossed over in 2018.
The more I think about death, the more I think that towards the end we have one foot in the tangible and one in the astral. Those two realities intertwining would confuse anyone. At the terminus of that final phone call, grandpa said, “I hope I get to meet you some day.”
I’ll see him on the other side eventually, but until then he has a lot of catching up to do.
Seth Landau is a journalist and writer/director/producer/actor. His reporting has appeared in Voice Media Group, The Arizona Republic and more. His films have been released across all digital platforms. He can be reached at https://www.youtube.com/c/SethLandauEntertainment.