Candyland  

Wherever I go, I bring candy. Yes, candy.

My grandfather Itzu Grunberger a”h was a legend of a man, a survivor of Auschwitz and an askan and pillar of his community, literally. Zaidy built the first mikvah in Queens, New York, and his shtibel, the type filled with Yidden from a different world, was one of the first in his Kew Gardens Hills neighborhood. Zaidy and Bubby were involved in the bikur cholim, hachnasas kallah, chevra kaddisha, and so much more.

But another thing — maybe not as big a deal — my Zaidy was known for was always having cases of candy in his trunk. It wasn’t enough that he was the candy man in his shtibel — he’d give candy to any Yiddishe child he met, wherever he went, because Zaidy’s greatest joy was seeing the smiles of pure Yiddishe kinderlach. Even when he traveled to Eretz Yisrael, he made sure to have candy in his rented car for the children there.

When children approached him — and they flocked to him, because they knew his car contained goodies for them — he would hold down the button on his remote clicker, a cool innovation at the time, and the trunk of his blue Mercury Grand Marquis would pop open so dozens of little hands could pull out a treat.