Though I am my sister’s elder by five years, she and I have always been very close.  The relationship between two sisters can be a very dear and special one, as is the case with Sabine and me. We talk on the phone or Skype every week, but whenever we are together in person we enjoy recalling moments and situations from the past. 

My first clear memory of my little sister is from when I was nine years old and she was four and we lived in a small suburb of Amsterdam.  I remember being proud to have her as my sister because she was so adorably cute with her short blond hair, bright blue eyes, and round little face.   

Then in 1972 when I was 14, our brother Jan-Pieter was 12 and Sabine was 9, our parents made the tough decision for all of us to move to Venezuela, a country halfway around the world where they spoke a language none of us knew. My father had been working for the largest steel company in the Netherlands and through his many contacts in the industry was offered a contract with a German company to manage the construction and startup of a steel plant in Puerto Ordaz, a small town on the Orinoco River a good 600 miles southeast of the capital city of Caracas. 

My brother and I were enrolled in the local private co-ed Jesuit high school, and my little sister attended the local all-girls Catholic elementary school which was run completely by nuns.  Within three months, when my brother and I were pulled out of regular classes every day in order to be tutored in Spanish, Sabine was so fluent in Spanish that she was soon called “la criolla” and as the only blond, blue-eyed girl in the school had the nuns wrapped around her little finger.

Before we knew it, she was allowed to care for the flowers by the statue of La Virgen Madre and walk at the head of processions holding the statue of Santa Maria. Soon she proved to be so far ahead academically that she was moved up to the next grade where she excelled the way she would for the rest of her academic career. 

Still, in those first months in Venezuela, Sabine was my “little sister”.  Our lives and our relationship took a dramatic turn when our brother unexpectedly passed away from leukemia  and we came to depend on each other tremendously as we tried to help our parents cope with their immense loss, as well as help each other.  One of the ways in which I tried to help Sabine was to play with her barbies and dolls, even though I was 15 years old by then.  But she adored me for it, and I loved being able to make her happy.

When Dad taught me how to drive in Mom’s small red manual Renault and I was old enough to get my driver’s license, Sabine came with me to cruise through Puerto Ordaz to see if the guys we had a crush on would be out by the movie theater. There wasn’t much entertainment in those days but for the movies and the bowling alley. When I look at pictures of Puerto Ordaz now, I don’t recognize it with its American fast-food restaurants and its huge soccer stadium.

 Every summer we all would spend six weeks in the Netherlands visiting family and shopping for a year’s worth of clothing for the tropics.  Sabine and I kept each other company and were inseparable and had so much fun together.

 After I graduated from Loyola-Gumilla High School in Puerto Ordaz, I studied at an international girls’ school in Switzerland for a year in the picturesque valley surrounded by the Jungfrau, Eiger and Monch Mountains. The year was an amazing one of foreign language immersion, close friendships that last to this day and adventurous travels. But the separation from my sister and my parents was almost unbearable, especially in the beginning. In those days (1975) international telephone calls were a rarity, so we spoke into cassette recorders and mailed those back and forth, and we wrote tons of letters to each other. I would often cry upon hearing the recorded voices of my parents and my sister.

Once I had returned to Venezuela in the summer of 1975, I worked in the offices of the steel company where my Dad was the “Señor Presidente” for several months. Sabine and I were closer than ever and spent the weekends at the newly built club/swimming pool. My parents often entertained at our house on the outdoor terrace with elaborate dinners and dancing and Sabine and I would be in charge of playing LP’s on the record player. How much fun we had! 

In January of 1977 we had to separate again as I moved to the United States and began my studies at Indiana University in Bloomington. But this time saying goodbye wasn’t as difficult, because we knew the “shorter” distance would allow me to go home to Puerto Ordaz for Christmas and spring break. Eastern Airlines from Indianapolis to Miami – that sounds like something from the last century, oh I guess it is . 

By now Sabine was growing tired of school and life in Venezuela, and the more she heard about my exciting new life in Bloomington, the more she wanted to join me. After much consideration and planning, my parents made the decision to allow Sabine to come live with me and enrolled her in Bloomington High School North. To say my sister and I were elated is an understatement. We still agree that those years were among the best of our lives. Our parents visited us regularly, especially our Dad who traveled extensively on business all over the world. Whenever he was in the United States, no matter what part of the country, he would “swing by” for the weekend to see us.

Sabine continued to excel academically at her American high school, getting straight A’s without ever having to study, and she began taking science courses at Indiana University while still in high school. I was so proud of her. Her best friend from school was a girl from Colombia, but Sabine and I were really each other’s best friend.  We spoke mainly Spanish with each other, because that was the language we had been most comfortable in since living in Venezuela.

Of course, with our parents we would speak Dutch, and with our friends we would speak English. We thought nothing of it, but it surprised many and probably annoyed others.

 
Sabine met her husband Trevor and I met my husband Bob during those years in Bloomington. Good thing they both tolerated and understood the close bond between us two sisters, because not even a man could change that! We had such fun together going to concerts, movies, the local coffee shops, and especially the beautiful parks in the area. 

While we were in school in Bloomington, our parents moved back to the Netherlands in 1979 and settled in a small town near Arnhem, where first Bob and I, and two years later Sabine and Trevor, had a beautiful wedding, each with the groom’s parents present, as well.

Sabine stood up at my wedding, I stood up at hers.  

Bob and I began our married life in Indianapolis while Sabine and Trevor continued their studies at Indiana University.  Visits back and forth were many, including when Dad would be in the country and would “swing by” for the weekend.

 When our daughter Julia was born in 1984, Sabine got on the Greyhound bus early the next morning to come meet her baby niece. She couldn’t stop holding Julia. It was as if she was her own baby.

Our first trip out of town with baby Julia was, of course, a visit to Tante Sabine and Oom Trevor.

Upon completing her Master’s degree, Sabine decided to work at a research laboratory at Texas Tech University in Lubbock. It seemed to me that my sister and her husband were  moving to the end of the world. I missed her so much that when Bob was on a jewelry buying trip to Hong Kong with his parents, I packed a suitcase and 2-year-old Julia and I boarded a plane to Lubbock. I was eight months pregnant at the time and there was barely enough room for Julia to sit on my lap without hitting the seat in front of us. I didn’t care because we were going to see Sabine!  Only minutes after Ian Peter was born, the second phone call from the hospital room was to Lubbock, Texas.  A couple of months later Sabine and Trevor were able to come meet their nephew in person. 

After two years in Texas, Sabine decided to pursue a Doctorate at the University of Illinois – Champaign/Urbana. Joy oh joy, she would only be 2 hours away from Indianapolis!  It was convenient to meet halfway at Shades Park for a picnic where the kids liked the playground. Birthdays were always spent together. And visits from our parents were always a highlight, because then we’d all be together. 

When Sabine officially became Dr. Sabine Rundle, she and Trevor moved to Ithaca, New York, where Sabine completed her postdoctoral work at Cornell University. I made a special trip out there to be with her on her 30th birthday. And during summer we loaded up the Volvo station wagon and the four of us took our first long road trip out to Ithaca. Great memories, except for the kids fighting in the back seat of the car.  Thank goodness for Gameboy! 

After Cornell Sabine accepted a job offer to teach in the biology department at Western Carolina University in the Smoky Mountains, one of the most beautiful areas of the country. She and Trevor have lived there for almost 20 years now. We have taken many a road trip over the years with the kids to visit them. Our Julia developed a great love for North Carolina and spent her best summers as a camper and later a counselor at Camp Green Cove only an hour south of her favorite aunt and uncle’s house. Once a year Julia needs to get her NC fix and visits them, as well as her best camp friend Bette in Charlotte.

Now we two sisters help and support each other as we mourn the recent passing of our dear mother. And we try to help our father cope as much as we are able. The bond between us is as strong as ever. I look forward to many more years of forming memories together. How lucky I am.

Bobby G treasures this loupe more than anything else (well almost). So, on Friday evening Bobby G took the loupe out of his pocket in order to change into a suit in the tiny little bathroom at the store. He and his wife were to attend the Zionsville Chamber of Commerce annual awards dinner.

The unimaginable (not really, if you know Bob…) happened!  Bob knocked the loupe off the sink into the TOILET!! After attempting to fish the loupe out of the hole in the toilet, he gave up and called Lonnie, our handyman.

Bob barely ate or slept that night until Lonnie could come on Saturday morning. It took him 2 hours, including a trip to the hardware store for a little mirror (my compact is too fancy for that kinda work) and a wet/dry-vac, but he finally managed to get the loupe out! Bobby G is once again a happy man.

Next time I’ll tell you the story of how Bobby G’s contact ended up in his nostril when he was a mere teenager I love him. Rose-Marie

The flowers, cards, phone calls, words of encouragement from all of you who knew Ray are so appreciated.  It made us even more aware of how great of a man Raymond was to so many people, how he touched so many lives by his actions and words.

I miss our Thursday dinner dates so much already.  As a tribute to my dear father-in-law, below follows Part III of the story of our dinner dates.  If you’d like to refer back to the previous two parts, you may access those at robertgoodmanjewelers.com.  Click on the icon “Rose-Marie & Bob’s blog” at the bottom of the home page, and then go to “Archives” and click on October 2010 for Part II.  Click on July 2010 for Part I.

If you would like to read Raymond’s obituary in the Indianapolis Star, click on http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/indystar/obituary.aspx?n=raymond-a-goodman&pid=153160527

 Rose-Marie

Ray Goodman majored in history, and became a reporter for the prestigious college newspaper “The Michigan Daily”.  He was on the sports staff for all four years, primarily covering the school’s men’s basketball team.  At some point Raymond became aware of the fact that there were absolutely no black basketball players on the Big Ten teams. There was an unspoken agreement among the basketball coaches that they would not recruit black basketball players.  Ray was so disturbed and amazed at this, that he wrote and submitted an article on the issue, but it was rejected for publication by the so-called “card-carrying communist” editors of The Michigan Daily. 

When Ray turned his report in as an assignment for one of his courses, the professor who was also the Dean of the College of Literature became very interested in the subject.  In fact, the professor shared the story of Nathan Leopold who had been his best student ever, and who was shortly thereafter convicted of murder during the famous “Leopold and Loeb Trial of 1924”.

Upon graduation from the University of Michigan, Raymond went to work in the family’s business of jewelry manufacturing and wholesale, Goodman & Company.  Ray became a traveling salesman in a 4-door Buick, advertised at the time in the depths of the Great Depression with a special retail price of $995 (sales tax was unheard of in those days).  When Ray crashed his Buick in Gladewater, Texas, and wanted to replace it with another “special at $995”, he was told by every Buick dealer that they were clear out of inventory.  Finally, the local dealer in Gladewater suggested Ray pay for the Buick Special, but he’d have to travel to Flint, Michigan to pick it up.   Raymond took the train north and picked it up.  He isn’t one to give up on things easily!

In September of 1939 the draft went into effect.  In order to avoid being drafted, Raymond joined the United States Naval Reserve in March 1940 with a guarantee that he would not be called up for officer’s school until January 1942.  That’s when Ray traveled up to Chicago for three months of training at the Naval Reserve Midshipmen’s School at Northwestern University.  In May 1942 Ray was commissioned an ensign of the U.S. Navy and went on active duty on the battleship USS New Mexico as a communications officer.  The ship sailed from San Francisco to Hawaii to prepare for action and later the ship sailed escort for troop transports to the Fiji Islands, and then patrolled the southwest Pacific.  All the way until the end of the war in 1945, Raymond served in the communications room on several different aircraft carriers as part of the admiral’s staff, where Ray enjoyed sharing all meals in the Admiral’s mess.  To this date, Raymond’s trunk from those years is still sitting in the basement of the house here in Indianapolis.

Immediately following his return home from the war, Raymond went back to work in the family business which by then had expanded by venturing into a retail jewelry store located at 30 West Washington Street right behind the Goodman & Co. manufacturing building.  In 1944 the Goodman’s bought both buildings from the Indianapolis Star and News which had occupied them but moved their offices.  The retail store was originally called H.H. Mayer after the partner Jacob Goodman had in this venture, but that partnership dissolved rather quickly, and Jacob changed the name to Goodman Jewelers.  Raymond replaced his sister Sarah as the manager at the store.

There were several jewelry stores in downtown Indianapolis.  They all had late hours on Thursday evenings and it was customary for the personnel to give the store windows a new look on those evenings.  It just so happened that one Thursday in 1952 when Raymond walked across the street to the Tea Room at the old Lincoln Hotel for dinner, he noticed a lovely young lady trimming the windows at Barney’s Jewelers.  Her name was Marjorie Hornstein.  Ray and Marjorie knew each other casually, but that evening the sparks flew when she looked up and smiled at Raymond and he waved to her.  As soon as he got back to the store after dinner, he picked up the telephone and called her to ask her to have dinner with him the next evening.  She agreed and, Ray tells me as his eyes glaze over, they enjoyed a very quiet and romantic dinner at Keys Restaurant where the waiter who was a friend of Ray’s, had arranged for them to have a table on the second floor.

Raymond was by then 36 years old, and Marjorie a mere 23.  As I’ve mentioned before, her favorite uncle Joe Rothbart had advised her to give up on Raymond, because he feared that he would never marry.  But, after a courtship of a little over a year, at the home of Ann and Harry Hornstein on 49th Street, Ray and Margie were married on March 22, 1953.  A year later their daughter Judith was born, and a year after that John was born.  Baby Bobby (who would become my husband 23 years later) came along in October 1958 when the family was renting a home on Meridian Lane just south of Kessler Blvd.

After having lived there for several years, the landlord decided he wanted to live in the house, so the young Goodman family had to move.  A few blocks north the “town” of Meridian Hills was being developed.  It is there that Ray’s sister Mayme bought a double lot as a gift to them, and Ray and Marjorie built the house on Illinois Street between Holliday Park and the Meridian Hills golf course.  Ray still lives there by himself today among all the beautiful furniture, art, crystal and porcelain that Marjorie accumulated over the years.

Meanwhile, Mayme Goodman had been dating Albert Frankel for about 20 years (yes, you see why Marjorie’s family advised her to give up on Raymond?!).  Mr. Frankel was in the real estate business and decided to build an outdoor shopping center on the eastside of Indianapolis.  He hired a young man just out of the military from Fort Benjamin Harrison, whose name was Mel Simon.  Mel Simon was hired as the manager of the project and he was the one who saw the great possibilities of shopping centers in the suburbs where homes were being built after World War II, but where there were no nearby stores for the residents.  Albert Frankel didn’t share Mel Simon’s vision, and Mel ended up leaving and starting up his own real estate firm which over the years became a national and international shopping mall enterprise, still based in Indianapolis.     

Then on sunday i watch the movie Freedom Writers, not the first time,  have also read the book. so what is my point. seeing the people at the receiption and watching Freedom Writers brought home how important teachers, kids and involved parents are to Zionsville.  And as i watch and listen to the events of the day locally and around the country regarding teachers  i wonder…is it a crime for these individuals to make a good salary?  Shouldn’t the good teachers be paid well?  i know the system may need adjusting, but you can’t tell me alot small businesses and various industries don’t need adjusting.  nothing is created just perfect.

tell me about ceo and cfo types that make big huge money, are they over paid? no because the are valuble to the operation of the company.   well isn’t  a good teacher just as valuble to, or maybe given their daily task they are more important.

sorry for rambling so, that movie always makes be cry, i just can’t believe the comittment and bravery.

good week to all,

bob goodman

Thanks to everyone out there.  Yes, Robert Goodman Jewelers is One of the Coolest Jewelry Stores in America, but not because of us rather it’s because of all of you, out there.  It takes a village t0 build good things and The Village to make us One of the Coolest Jewlery Stores in America.  Man do I love having a jewelry store.

bob

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