Frances M. Weiner

In Loving Memory of Frances Marmor Weiner

A love letter from her husband, Sam

My Dear Frances,

The Cleveland blizzard of 1977 will be remembered as a miserable time for most who endured it – 20 inches of snow and subzero temperatures, but I will always remember it as the moment the girl of my dreams entered my life.

It had to be destiny that brought us together because it was a series of unplanned events that led to our meeting.

It was the day of your cousin’s wedding, the airport was closed, anyone who ventured out was risking getting stranded in a snow drift. As for the wedding, well it went on but the artic blast kept about 400 of the 600 invited guests from attending. Truth be told, I wasn’t really supposed to be there either but I ended up serving as the driver for my mother and a couple of her friends who were determined to be there.

When two-thirds of the invited guests are unable to show up for such an event, tables get rearranged and seating charts are of little use. It was open seating and when I saw that table with eight women and one guy, and one empty seat, I knew where I was headed.

As I sat down at the last chair, there you were -- the most beautiful blonde, I ever laid eyes on. You wore a long black elegant evening gown – and underneath that flowing dress, a pair of Hush Puppy shoes.

Remember those shoes? You had just endured foot surgery and you were under strict doctor’s orders to stay off your feet.

So much for doctor’s orders. We danced the night away. I knew then, as I know now, you have a mind of your own.

You know, if all I noticed that night was your beauty, I suppose that would have just been infatuation. But I knew I was falling for you as I noticed how you treated others. You showed genuine interest in what other people had to say. You really listened and made everyone around you feel important. Me included.

If you remember, I was just getting started in my law career -- working at that small criminal defense firm. But every Friday, without fail, I headed to Cleveland to be with you. Frances, the more I got to know you the more I realized you were the best person I had ever met – you just happened to be beautiful too.

You are compassionate and caring. You appreciate people. You have a gift for making everyone around you better. Before I go any further Frances, let me tell you, you made me a better man.

When we got married on November 12, 1977 (my parents’ anniversary), just less than a year after we first met on that snowy weekend in Cleveland, I knew I was the luckiest man alive – I still am for having you in my life.

When you think about it, it’s remarkable that you turned out the way you did. Your life as a child was anything but easy. Your mother endured a life as a survivor of Auschwitz – a darkness that she has always struggled to resolve. Your family was forced to flee Romania to Austria when communism placed an iron grip on your homeland. They left everything behind and all you really had from your childhood was that little ring you hid in your shoe.

Your father David believed freedom was worth more than worldly possessions and he was determined to get you and your family to America -- and he did. Throughout your life you remained Daddy’s little girl. You honored your father for the man he was and what he stood for – a man willing to sacrifice everything in order to get his family to the United States. I doubt there are many people who cherish freedom like you. I suppose that’s why you never apologized for your love of this country.

When you and your family finally got to Cleveland you didn’t speak English but you still attended school. Eventually you learned the language by reading movie magazines and watching TV.

Education was important to you and eventually you would get your undergraduate degree from Capital University and your Master’s in counseling from the University of Dayton. Even more remarkable, your lowest grade in college was that one B in math – your least favorite subject.

Not bad for a young girl who learned to speak English by reading about Liz Taylor and Richard Burton while watching TV westerns.

I suppose all of your life’s experiences made you the extraordinary person you turned out to be. To this day I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have such a remarkable woman share her life with me. Frances, you gave me so many memories that I am grateful to hold forever.

We were lucky. We got to travel and until your father died of cancer in 1995, we were able to take him and your mother to some great spots – the French side of St. Martin, Aruba, Jamaica. Remember that picture we all took on New Year’s Eve at the Hyatt in Aruba? I cherish that picture -- I have it with me now.

Some of my fondest memories are the 20-year stretch we were lucky enough to go to Palm Springs for New Years. I watched you meet people from all over the world and eventually everyone became your friend – even Courtney Love. I think you have always attracted people because of your warmth, wisdom and holistic approach to life.

But you know Frances as I think about all of our trips and the interesting people whose paths crossed ours, in reality those were just beautiful places to visit and interesting people to meet. The truth is you made the moments so special. How can I ever thank you for the gift of such great memories?

Over the past few days, I started to write down things I would want people to know and remember about you. The list is endless. If I recorded everything there would be a five-foot stack of legal pads piled next to me. I know it may sound crazy, but one thing I can’t help but laugh about is when I think about all of the times we would be out and people would comment on how beautiful you looked – how elegantly you would be dressed – while wearing the perfect hat to accessorize your outfit.

Little did they know you actually were quite frugal when it came to yourself. It’s time the world knows, when we went shopping you waited for the clearance to turn into the “final” clearance before you bought anything.

Frances, this is hard for me, but lately, I’ve thought a lot about the fact that we didn’t have children -- even though you always had a soft spot for kids. You love children, you always have, and the ones who lived in our neighborhood were lucky to have you in their lives. Like everyone else’s life you touched, you gave them time, and always listened to them. You made their days brighter with little gifts, but you honored them by giving them time, attention and love.

Love. That word gets tossed around a lot these days, but Frances, you gave me a life of love. Real love. From the moment I first met you to these closing days, the one thing we can both hold true is our love. I know it’s probably a little corny to some people reading this, but from the beginning our song was “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” I loved singing that to you because that’s what you are – my sweetheart.

As I close this letter, it’s important that you to know you gave me more than any man could ever hope for in a wife and friend. I am honored to have been your husband. There’s going to be a lot of emptiness moving forward but I’m going to do my best because I know that’s what you would want.

God only gave you 76 years and I cherish the ones we shared together.

Goodbye my love, we’ll be together again on the other side of the rainbow.

Forever your love,

Sam

Frances is survived by her husband, Sam of Bexley, Ohio; her mother Rose of Pembroke Pines, Florida; her brother, Wolfber who resides in Israel and dozens of nieces, nephews and dear friends.
In lieu of flowers please consider a donation to Tunnels to Towers Foundation (www.t2t.org) or the America Cancer Society (www.cancer.org)