Yale Yearbook Photo.
Following is the text of a sermon delivered by Rabbi Jon-Jay Tilsen at the funeral Thursday of retired postal worker and Edgewood neighbor Marvin Missan.
Marvin Bruce Missan was born on 17 October 1932 and grew up in the home of his parents, Albert & Hannah Missan, in New Haven, along with his brother Richard (may he live and be well), an attorney in New York City.
Their father Albert (originally Abel Mizansky) was born in Lithuania or Poland and came to America in 1913. Albert was raised by Jacob & Clara Missan (along with four brothers) in Hartford at 123 Zion St. (1934). They were all native Yiddish speakers.
Their home was was happy and busy. Marvin’s father was often away a lot riding the trains for the Post Office. His brother Richard, just a year younger, recalls that Marvin was very smart and was particularly interested in science. He is remembered fondly by numerous Missan cousins who knew him in that era.
Marvin graduated from Hillhouse high school, and then Yale College, class of ‘54. He lived at 558 Elm St., New Haven, in that era. In those days, friends called him “Marv.”
Subsequently Marvin earned an MA in education from Teachers’ College of Columbia University in New York, and taught for a couple of years.
Marvin’s mother, Hannah, died in 1960 in New Haven, while Marvin was still a young man.
He then began a long career working for the Post Office, now known as the Postal Service. He was supportive of the Postal Workers’ Union.
Marvin seldom went far from his origins on Elm Street. In the mid-1970s he lived on Ella T. Grasso Blvd., and for the last 18 years at least — the period in which I knew him — he lived at 835 Edgewood. Marvin drove that green jalopy of his around the neighborhood, but it is unknown whether he ever took it on the highway.
Throughout the years, he maintained friendships with family friends he knew from childhood, and he made sure to call his brother every year on his birthday and on other occasions.
Marvin enjoyed “The History Channel” and “Discover,” that is, history and science on television, as well as books and other publications in those fields. He played and studied chess, and although he claimed he was not that good at it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a decent player. He very much enjoyed learning about the history of his People, through books, TV programs and lectures. Although he would say that he did not grow up in a particularly religious home, he had a strong sense of Jewish identity.
Following his father’s passing in 1988, Marvin became active in our synagogue, Beth El Keser Israel. It was of course in this context that all of us here knew him. Back in the era of Mr. Friedman and of Moishe Schnitman, Marvin attended daily afternoon and evening services several times a week, and always on the High Holy Days, and sometimes on Shabbat as well.
One member, Stan Saxe, recalls how Marvin helped take care of the member’s elderly aunt, and indeed Marvin did reach out to his elderly neighbors, sometimes helping people get to medical appointments.
Another of our members, Margie Weiner, shared this recollection:
I am so sad to hear about Marvin’s passing. I have very warm memories of him.
When we first came to BEKI in 1995, it was in preparation of (our son) Matthew’s Bar Mitzva. I remember talking with Marv and he always had a joke to share. Once the Bar Mitzva plans were in full swing, we had always “kibbitzed” with Marv at Saturday services. Marv requested an invitation to Matt’s big day, of course we granted his request. The big day came and you would think we were related. He gave Matt a very generous gift and never failed to ask about “sonny boy.” I would see Marv at Stop and Shop and beyond the jokes we would talk about his health, medical issues and of course Matthew. I will miss him.
Others described him as a “lovely man” — meant I believe in a spiritual sense — or as a “nice guy.” I had very frequent interactions with him and always found him to be mild-mannered, friendly, smart, with a nice sense of human. When some of the now-long-gone “old men” at the daily services used to bicker in the way that only old men can, Marvin always had the wisdom to pointedly stay out of it.
Marvin was attentive to details. If I called him on the phone but got no answer, he would call back the minute he got home — at least in the age of caller ID. He paid his bills without delay — including his synagogue dues for this year, which must of have been one of his last living acts, as we just cashed the check. If he had a check that hadn’t cleared the bank in 30 days, he’d call the recipient to see what is wrong. He kept his books balanced.
Not only did he pre-arrange his funeral years ago with the Robert Shure Funeral Home and purchase a burial site in the Beth El Memorial Park; he repeatedly reviewed and renewed those plans every few years to be sure everything was still set.
And he was supportive of the Congregation, paying his dues in full, as noted, immediately, and contributing to the renovation campaign, paying his pledge exactly on schedule.
I am grateful to have enjoyed Marvin’s friendship and support over the 18 years that I knew him, and I am cognizant of and appreciate his support for the synagogue even before that era. It turns out that this community was very important to him, a locus of human relationship, ultimate meaning and eternal life. I know that each Passover and Thanksgiving, and Rosh HaShana, our members invited Marvin to join them for meals, and even if he often did not accept the invitations, he appreciated them.
Marvin was apparently content with his life and was at peace in this world. His support of the daily minyans, financial support of the synagogue, and friendship helped make this a better community for all of us. I am thankful that I had the privilege of knowing him and of calling him my friend.
Marvin died at home on Monday (25 July), having the fortune to be able to live independently through his entire life and living at home with dignity. I will miss him, and will treasure his friendship and my memories of him.
