Beautiful words from the Himmelfarbs

Memories of Avi
I wish you all condolences on the loss of your beloved husband and father.  Avi was a warm, intelligent and generous person, who welcomed us from the moment we moved into the neighborhood. I remember the many ways in which he was always welcoming and giving--He gave a warm hello whenever he saw us and offered invitations and introductions to every newcomer.  He gave medical emergency consultations and throat cultures along with giggles for every baby and small child. He provided commiseration about Pesach preparations along with delicious recipes (I regularly use his recipe for lamb stew.) He shared interesting news and commentary about world events. He always showed interest in the successes and well-being of our family and he regularly shared with us the love that he felt for his family and the pride he felt about the development and many accomplishments of his children.  I know that his memory is a blessing to all of you and to all of us who were fortunate to have known him for decades as friends and neighbors.
With warmest sympathy,
Sabine

It is a few months since Avi Z”L passed away.  The neighborhood is emptier, especially for us.   Seeing Avi around, or even knowing he was around when we didn’t see him, was a source of comfort.  It gave our connection to the street and the neighbors a warmer feeling, and his absence is strongly felt.  We remember with fondness and amazement the call we received in Columbus Ohio from Nancy, inviting us for our first Shabbat in Silver Spring.  Although, we had been to Kemp Mill for the 4th of July weekend and met numerous people, we had not met any Karkowskys;  so the invitation to us strangers seemed very kind.  Over the years, we learned that the “first Shabbos invitation” was being extended by your family to many people new to the community, which is even more impressive (and we were happy to know that the experience with us did not persuade you to discontinue this kindness ).
Avi’s generosity of spirit was always evident in shul as well.  I was continually surprised by how many people he knew, how he would run to find out how someone was doing because he was aware of something that was going on with that person or his family.  These connections went well beyond the connections we all have to our own age peers.  There was a real love for human beings and fellow Jews that knew no arbitrary age boundaries; and as mentioned at the funeral, there was the famous Karkowsky handshake for almost every child that got near him.  But more than that, every child got a big warm smile from Dr. Karkowsky.  It was genuine.  When our grandchildren were in town, Avi would ask to come in and see them.  If he had a big heart for others, it was doubly true for babies and little children. 
During the last several years, Avi and I would go for walks on Sunday.  Had I known that such opportunities would be so time-limited, I would have been more diligent about not passing up any chances to walk with him.  Our conversations were a chance to catch up on what everyone was doing.  He was so proud of his children and their accomplishments.  All of you!  After discussing with one another happenings and concerns in our children’s lives, he would say to me reassuringly (not that I needed it), “You have good kids.”  I would respond with, “You too!”  To which he would say in an elongated fashion, “I knooow.” 
It was also an opportunity to discuss anything else that came to mind, from work, to finances, to world politics.  We often didn’t agree on many of the issues raised, but the closeness we felt for each other allowed us to agree to disagree.
The one thing we never discussed was his cancer.   Consequently, we are still feeling the shock of the suddenness (to us at least) of his untimely departure.    Nevertheless, we are comforted by fond memories, and we hope all of you will be too. 
Yehi Zichro Baruch.
Fondly,
Chaim

from Rabbi Axelrod, a fellow "Brooklyn Boy"

In Brighton Beach... there were Summer Resorts with Boarding Houses and Bungalows which people rented to get FRISCHE LUFT much like the Bungalows in the Catskill  Mountains in NY, or closer to you the White Mts. Everyone went. Jews who were observant,secularized Chassidim and all seemed to get along well.... I lived across the Street from Lincoln HS and there was a strong sense of neighborhood. Neighbors cared for each other. We wished the Goyim HAPPY EASTER AND MERRY X-MAS  in front of their churches and they came to our Synagogues to wish us GUT Shabbos/Yom-Tov etc.

Your husband/father AH was a little kid when the Yeshivah in Coney Island closed down. I remember him although I’m older than he was coming to the Yeshivah of Brighton on Public Transportation the SURF AVE. B-36 Bus. Older students the Bernstein Brothers (Rabbi Bernstein’s sons AH) Rabbi Phil Polatoff ( A Talmud Chochum in Scranton, PA) Jerome Feller, Ira Langer,Billy Cohen Esq.  Morty Bluth M.D. Sheldon Fried and others would go with him on the Bus and walk him home from the Bus Stop which was quite a distance.

.....Although I never knew Avi for years, as an adult because I left NY in 1965)  I returned in 71 for a short while and in 75-76 he was long gone from the area. When I moved to Kemp Mill he  immediately recognized me and was shocked to see me as he thought that I passed away. I was a Chaplain for 20 plus years in the US ARMY and he had heard that my Helicopter was shot down in Viet-Nam which was true but luckily we were rescued in  minutes. I was also the last helicopter out of the Imperial City of Way on Easter Sunday during the last insurgency. He kept up with all the Chevrah we grew up with and we kept each other informed of their whereabouts. Of their Mazel-Tovs and Chas V’sholom their tragedies.

For more insight I recommend that you call Adina Friedman as she and her mother probably know much more about the “OLD NEIGHBORHOOD” and Fred can tell you about NIH.

Another email to Mom (Nancy)

I wanted to let you know that I think of your husband every day when I go into my building  and pass the 4th floor in the elevator on my way to my floor.  And with every person I pass I wonder if they knew him or worked with him. I would have been a consultant to his medical division (DCRP). In fact, I just completed a review for his division yesterday. It saddens me to know that I will never be able to work with him. I am eternally grateful for his help and generosity in helping me get an opportunity here. He was a true tzadik and is missed by so many.

Love,
S.

A memory, sent to Mom (Nancy) by email

One Shabbos as I was waiting in the lobby at Shomrai, Avi came up and spoke with me. He noticed a rash on my eldest son's face (this was about 27 or 25 years ago). He told me what it was (I forget the name) and that it was very contagious but the cream to cure it was inexpensive. He told me to call him after Shabbos and he would call the prescription into People's for me. I have never forgotten his kindness.

R.

Some of the eulogies for my father touched on his role as "Shabbos Doctor" in the community. I sometimes wonder how true that label is particularly in the last few decades when medical liability has gotten so complicated. I think he sometimes hesitated to give medical advice without the proper protocols in place. But people in the community did get comfort from knowing a doctor was nearby, at the very least he might say to go to the emergency room or to go home and not worry about it too much.

One Shabbos, Mr. Mandel (at the time Director of the Univ of Maryland Hillel and father of Kobe Mandel who was later murdered in Israel) brought his youngest son to our house on Shabbos. The boy was about four or five and it seems he had gotten a little red ring-shaped plastic toy stuck on his finger. You know how those plastic toys are, for some reason they'll slide down on the finger and over the knuckle but won't go back the other way. It looked awful silly but attempting to remove the toy was causing the boy great pain. The only alternative to my father's medical attention, I guess, was to wait until the end of Shabbos -- with the boy's finger stuck awkwardly in the air all the while-- and then crack it open.

Anyway, my father went into the kitchen and brought back some butter. He applied it until it melted and the little red toy slid off the finger immediately. It was a folksy way to solve a problem: less with medical know-how than with common sense and practicality. Like a small town community doctor might do.