Kingston, Pennsylvania, whose population was about 19,000
while I was growing up, was not exactly teeming with Jews.
However, my family had to go no further than one block away
to Rabbi Meir Pernikoff's home in order to obtain kosher wine
for Shabbos and Yom Tov, and arbaa minim for
Succos.
Rabbi Pernikoff was my brothers' teacher for Bar-Mitzva
lessons. He was the mohel for three of my five
brothers and for two of my nephews. He was my teacher in
fifth grade at the Israel Ben Zion Academy. (He would pinch
my full cheeks on many occasions.)
From him I learned what a meshulach is. He and his
family hosted them. Whenever one would come to town, Rabbi
Pernikoff would bring him over to our home.
The Pernikoffs' home was my home away from home. I would
often visit them on Shabbos, where I was greeted very warmly.
(As a child, I used to have nightmares of being pursued by
bad people, and I would fly away to the safety of the
Pernikoffs.) The Shabbos before I was married they arranged a
Shabbos kallah in their home. Rabbi Pernikoff received
one of the sheva berachos under our chupah.
Among his many roles, he was the kashrus supervisor at
a local bakery, and the rav at the Luzerne shul (a town even
smaller than Kingston). He would guarantee a daily
minyan, and walked several miles to get there on
Shabbosim and Yomim Tovim. In his latter years he developed
diabetes, and it was harder for him to perform his acts of
chesed, but he continued to push himself.
I had the privilege of seeing him the summer before he died,
when he and his rebbetzin visited Eretz Yisrael. He looked
weak, and upon his return to the US he was diagnosed with a
cancer of the blood. His older sons, Boruch and Dovid,
accompanied their father on his final journey to Har
haMenuchos on the Fast of the 17th of Tammuz. After the
funeral, Dovid told us the following story:
For many years his father had purchased lulovim and
esrogim in the US and sold them to the Wilkes-
Barre/Kingston community. Someone suggested that he purchase
them from Eretz Yisrael, and he readily agreed, even though
it would require more work.
One year, shortly before Succos, Dovid received a call from
his father. Would he please go to the dock in New York and
have the lulovimand esrogim released from
Customs? After that he was to send them as cargo on a bus
going to Wilkes-Barre.
Dovid was successful in securing their release from Customs.
He then traveled with his precious cargo to Port Authority in
New York City.
The non-Jewish driver of the bus going to Wilkes-Barre was
about to pull out. He gave Dovid a hard time and refused to
take the cargo. As Dovid was attempting to persuade the
driver to allow his `baggage' on board, another driver, a non-
Jew as well, approached the two. He asked, "What's going on
here?" Dovid explained the situation. The second driver
asked, "What's your father's name?"
Dovid responded, "Rabbi Meir Pernikoff."
"Rabbi Meir Pernikoff!" the second driver exclaimed. "When my
wife was sick in the hospital, your father came into her room
a number of times and visited with her. Put your boxes on
my bus!" And Dovid did.
When I called overseas and spoke to his widow, Sophie, she
related the following. One beautiful Sunday morning, towards
the end of her husband's life, she suggested they go for a
drive somewhere. "Where would you like to go?" she asked
him.
"To the hospital to visit patients," was his reply.
*
Each time a son was born to us, my husband wanted one of the
names to be Yisrael, one of his favorite names. But each time
a son was born, there was always a reason to name him a
different name. When our 4th son was born, we thought that we
were "free" to name him whatever we wanted. But minutes after
the birth, my father mentioned that my Uncle Lester, his
brother, had no namesake. So one of the names had to be
Yeshaya.
Moreover, while I was expecting, I read Yonason Rosenblum's
book Reb Yaakov about Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky. I was
especially struck by one of the accounts in the book. Rav
Yaakov Kamenetsky once told a driver who was honking his horn
at a group of children, "You must treat the children with
derech eretz because they will be the ones to receive
Mashiach." I therefore chose Eliyahu as our baby's first
name. (His savta often calls him Elishaya.)
Our fifth son was born six months after Rabbi Pernikoff's
death. There was a reason that the name Yisrael had been
"pushed" aside so many times! Moreover, my husband had had a
great uncle Meir who never had children, and so our baby was
fittingly named Yisrael Meir.
It was only at the hakomas matzeivoh that I discovered
that Rabbi Pernikoff's full name was Yisrael Meir. I can
think of no greater memorial to him than a living one. May
our Yisrael Meir do as many acts of chesed as his
namesake.
