Contributions to the tribute of Eleanor Schuster

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Dani Machado posted a condolence

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Querida Eleonor tuve el agrado de conocerte en las vacaciones del año 2010 pasando momentos familiares inolvidables , llegando a conocer su casa, llena de mucha hospitalidad cariño y amor para los que te visitamos en tu hogar, gracias por todos esos bonitos recuerdos que nos llevamos de una persona llena de mucho corazon , amable, gentil, respetuosa y sobre todo sus mensajes de vida y comentarios a cada uno de nosotros para seguir adelante.

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Alba uploaded photo(s)

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

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edith schuster posted a condolence

Sunday, October 22, 2023

Edith's tribute to Eleanor Eleanor was my mother-in-law, but in so many ways, she was my second mother. This is why I never called her "Eleanor," I called her "Mom." I realize now how lucky I was to have had her as my second mother. I immigrated here from ecuador in 1985. My family was far away and I felt very lonely. I was still learning English. I went back to school to become a teacher. Mom was always there for me and she did everything she could to give me the moral support I needed. I think that Mom empathized with me because she too had once been an immigrant. I always felt comfortable asking Mom for advise which I think I did frequently, and she was happy to give it. As a second mother and then later as a grandmother to my children, she also became my protector; she was extremely protective of everyone who was dear to her. One of Mom's favorite things to talk about with me was my family in Ecuador. She would ask the same questions, like "Did you talk to your mom? How's your sister?" and so on. Eventually she she met my family wehen they came here and it was truly something special. It didn't matter that they didn't speak English. She was very good to all of them. She took them to Buca di Beppo, Maggiano's, Weiler's Deli, and to her favorite places in Orange County. She really enjoyed spending time with them. My family appreciated her too. I could say so many other things about Mom but they have already been shared by others. Thank you Mom for being there for me. I love you and I will always miss you. Edith

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Carmita Fuenmayor posted a condolence

Sunday, October 22, 2023

TRIBUTO A ELEANOR SCHUSTER En el año 2006 en unas vacaciones fuimos invitadas por nuestra querida prima Edith a conocer Los Ángeles en Estados Unidos, y por ende su bonita casa que nos recibía con los brazos abiertos, en ese año tuvimos el gusto de recibir y conocer a Doña Eleanor Schuster madre de Randy y madre política de Edith. Permitidme transitar por los senderos del recuerdo y rememorar la vida de Doña Eleanor, una dama con virtudes engrandecidas por sus actos sobresalientes y por un bagaje de virtudes como la generosidad, la humildad, la sencillez, la dulzura y el amor a su familia. El problema del idioma no fue dificultad para podernos comunicar, Edith era la persona que nos traducía y así podíamos entablar una conversación, esos recuerdos me permiten capturar los buenos momentos que pasábamos junto a ella. Como olvidar su mirada, sus gestos, sus palabras, su sonrisa, gracias por regalarnos lo más bonito de su vida su cariño y su amistad. Una mujer integra, generosa siempre que visitábamos Los Ángeles tenía la costumbre de invitarnos a cenar en los mejores restaurantes, pues no escatimaba los costos, se sentía cómoda y feliz disfrutando de nuestra compañía, pues nos decía ha venido la familia del Ecuador. Sus visitas eran propicias para conversaciones amenas, con anécdotas, risas y chistes. Lamentablemente no pudo conocer el Ecuador pese a insistentes invitaciones que lo hacíamos, pues su acrofobia a los aviones lo impedía. Como olvidar a Doña Eleanor que nos dio tanto para recordar y agradecer por todas sus acciones generosas infinitas gracias. El mejor homenaje que podemos rendir a su memoria es seguir sus pasos y el ejemplo de su vida llena de amor, sabiduría y comprensión. Si la especie humana por las leyes de la naturaleza tiene que pagar su tributo a la muerte cruel, no es menos cierto que ese tributo hiere despiadado y lacera el alma, por la desaparición de Doña Eleanor. Alguien dijo: “La muerte es el último amén de esta vida y el primer aleluya de la nueva vida”. Esta frase es una verdad, sobre todo una realidad, a todos nos gustaría que la vida fuese para siempre, eterna; sin fin. En el fondo ese deseo es el que nos mueve y nos da ilusión y esperanza. Que Dios le tenga en su Santa Gloria y descanse en paz Doña Eleanor, hasta siempre. Su Familia del Ecuador Con Cariño Carmita.

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Matthew Schuster posted a condolence

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

During Baba's beautiful funeral service and celebration of life, I shared memories from parts of my life with her, starting from when I was very little, to recently. I decided after a month of reflection (coincidentally being a month since she passed), to add the goodbye (for now) to my Baba. It is a well-known fact that Baba liked having her affairs in order way ahead of time. We all know she had planned her funeral for more than a decade. The last month she had with us hit everyone so fast and hard. I looked back today and listened to one of her lovely voicemails that she left me back in July, wishing me a happy birthday. I find myself subconsciously checking my phone for one of her many calls because that was how she was, always wanting to chat and see how I am. I also tend to habitually check for her long, colorful, and exquisite emails, but I still struggle with the reality that these things will no longer come to me. I have had a little bit of guilt knowing that she wasn't well in the last month or so of her life which sadly coincided with my finals. At that time, I was a bit overwhelmed. During that period, I did talk to Baba and emailed her, but my conversations weren't as long as usual. She would ask something like "how is school?" I would reply with something like " It's going okay...I'm surviving" and she would tell me that we can talk later as she understands I have a lot on my plate. Sometimes that type of pressure puts me in a rather isolated space from the rest of the world as I am deep in my studies. Baba has always been such an understanding person. Despite this, I still reflect on my guilt, thinking to myself "could I have reached out to her more?" or "could I have held our conversations a bit longer?" The timing of how everything played out in her last couple weeks was unique. I had just finished my finals, even calling my Baba to tell her about the amount of relief I have to be off for 1 whole week from school. When I asked how she was, she kept the conversation focused on me and said she was okay. Just days later, when I knew she was entering hospice, I made sure to visit and I called her frequently. Whenever I was on my break at work, I would make a point to call her and see how things are. Monday, August 21, is a day I will always remember, because that was the last day I had a fully coherent conversation with her in person. I visited her with my mom, sporting a new haircut. Baba loved my hair cut, feeling my head and complimenting my hair dresser. We took pictures with her and conversed about various things. We made plans with her to visit again the following weekend, not anticipating how things would turn out before that weekend even came into play. I would continue calling her on breaks at work, at home before bed, any time I can to hear her voice. The night of Wednesday, August 23rd ended up being the last night I had a fully coherent conversation with her by phone. I went to work on Thursday August 24th, initially going about it as a regular day. On my break I called Baba, we spoke briefly, although I sensed something was off, she was on medication. She still recognized me but was confused about a couple questions I asked and she told me to make sure "they don't take her away" at which I replied, "nobody will, you are at home." I then shortly after, got the fateful call. I expeditiously left work to be at Baba's side. I remained there with her and other loved ones for that day. We all know the story that her last conscious moments were a brief and funny conversation with our good friend Adam. Just after this, I was talking to someone in the room about school, next thing I hear is her calling my name asking if I am here. I rushed to her side as she extended her arm and I let her feel my face, I told her I loved her and I am there for her. This was the goodbye, as our Baba, as of that night, drifted off into the in between of our world and the next. As the days passed, Baba being the fighter she was, held on defiantly. I remember the times I would happily hold the phone to her ear for her to hear the loving messages from all our family and loved ones. When I was there, I spoke to her reminding her how much I love her and all she has done for me. Things like my childhood memories of our large family functions, finding the afikomen at Passovers, Thanksgivings where I watched WWF Smackdown in the other room. The last Thanksgivings we had with her, specifically the year it was just me and her at her house and I what's app called family to say hello to her. The last Thanksgiving we had with her, which was at our house with neighbors over and our power was out for part of the night. I also shared my fond memories I spent with her when I went to my independent study school close to her house and we bonded over that year. I also thanked her for helping me in that dark point in my life. I told her that any time I would visit, was not just because she needed help with something in the house, but because I was there to keep her company. As our family and friends visited, we did what she had hoped, and that was to be there for her. She loved people and did not want to be alone. My cousins, my sister, and I got to have a nice search in the master bedroom for all the fun things Baba left for us to look through. These things included, a picture dated back to 1919, old Monroe High School memories, pictures of Baba dressed up with Gramps likely for Halloween, a bunch of dog leashes, some poorly stacked plates in the closet, and an antique TV. We got to bond, look back at the memories we had, flipping through her old yearbooks, CD's and tapes Gramps had, various items Baba had around the house. As her breaths became faint, we knew the end may be near. We spent the night at her house on August 28th. Today, I look back at the reality that it was 4 weeks ago August 29th, that Baba took her last breath shortly after 6am. We were there with her to the end. As she passed, a lot went through my mind, I asked myself "is this really real?" and "how could this happen so fast?" When I look at death, since I have been around so much of it, I feel anguish knowing I will not see that person anymore, which I felt quite exponentially when Baba took her last breath. I try to keep her memory alive by looking at videos of her, such as her retirement video that I watched the other day, listening to her voicemails, looking back at her legendary emails, viewing pictures of her, all that I can cherish. Whenever I see my family I have left, when I smell really good cooking, seeing beautiful flowers, playing with our dog (whom Baba adored), when I think about how proud she is of my accomplishments, and seeing good things happen in the world, it all reminds me of my Baba. I know that when we die, our physical form is no longer a part of this world. I believe Baba is in a great place, looking over us. Whenever I look in the sky, as my dad said, I am certain she is the brightest star among all the other stars, shining over us all. Baba, I love you and miss you unconditionally. Love, Matthew.

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Matthew Schuster posted a condolence

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

Hello all, I decided to make two parts to my Baba's eulogy. This is the one I read at her funeral service. I will post the second part after this. My earliest memories of Baba date back to the days I would go to visit her and Gramps at their house. They both used to give me so much love. I would go over and play with their dogs Fyda, Daisy and Shira. I used to have this thing about animals. I would ask them to print out hippos, elephants, and many other animals on their computer. I’m sure they both found it cute. I will definitely remember how Baba always kept me well fed. Going to her house, and to her class meant I was going to get my grub on. She truly was the best cook I have ever known. There’s just something about a Jewish grandmother’s cooking, especially one with such an amazing culinary background. Going to our family functions like Thanksgiving and Passover were always so special. At Thanksgivings I would ask to go in the other room at a certain time to watch WWF Smackdown, and I was surprised that Baba’s old school TV had the UPN channel. After Gramps passed away, Baba took on a double role which was to be extra loving to fill in for Gramps. She dedicated so much to those around her, always wanting to be in the loop. After a few years, she got her special little dogs Margaret and Major. I will always remember this time because this was when I had trouble in school and ultimately decided for a year or so to attend an independent learning school close to her house. I appreciate Baba for bringing light to what was a dark time in my life. At this time, Baba was retired so we came up with the arrangement to go to her house for the days I needed to go to school. I cherish all that time I got to spend with her. We would go take little trips to eat at places, go to museums, go to the hospital for her physical therapy, and go on nice walks with her and the dogs. When I would go to her house, she would have the TV mostly on the news. She also watched classic shows or sitcoms, sometimes golden age movies. Other times she watched Dr. Phil, Maury, and wait for it: Jerry Springer. The latter surprised me, I asked her “Baba you watch this?” and her response was “why not, it is kind of entertaining”. I always thought it was cute when she cleaned the “schmootz” out of her dogs’ eyes. When I started working for LAUSD, my first school was a couple blocks away from her house. It was nice getting to visit her every so often., I would help with anything she needed, but most importantly she just appreciated the company. Eventually I started working at schools closer to home, but that didn’t stop me from seeing my Baba. I always loved going out to eat with her, but one thing we knew with Baba is going out to eat Italian food could be a challenge. She was critical of how certain Italian meals were prepared and would make it known that something wasn’t on par with what she had hoped. She was a master of cooking Italian food, so we learned to either X Italian off the list of places to take her or be very careful which Italian place to take her. Weilers, Brents, coffee shops, and diners were always a slam dunk though. Her colorful and long emails as well as her voicemails will always be memorable. She was so understanding about my hectic schedule, but I still would make a point to go visit her. Getting into my undergrad master’s program and my acceptance to grad school is something that I know she used to rave about to everyone. This made me feel so special. When I graduate in 2026, I will be sad not seeing her physically at my ceremony, but I know she will be there in spirit. A vow I made to her was to graduate and have a rewarding career. I know she will always be so proud of me. I don’t think there are many people like Baba in this world which made her passing even harder to process. Baba was a fighter and she fought to the very end. My love for her is unconditional and she will always be my Baba. Love, Matthew.

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lynn wallace lit a candle

Wednesday, September 13, 2023

I loved your mother very much. Fond memories of all the back yard parties over the years at her home. She was one of the strongest woman I have known. So sorry for your loss. Lynn (gussin) Wallace

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randy.schuster3@gmail.com posted a condolence

Monday, September 11, 2023

Thank you for the beautiful good-bye. El would have been so proud of you. Our family is making a contribution to the Jay Goldberg Resident Education Fund in memory of your beloved Mother. Please send me your home addresses so that the Cedars Sinai OBGYN department that Jay treasured so much can acknowledge your family. We are sorry for your loss and for ours As her young cousin, I admired El's spirit And later in LA, her wisdom and courage El was my role model for aging gracefully A loving Matriarch to the Gussin family She was strong-wanted to do it her way This time, of course, was no exception I already miss our Monday dinners Sending much love, Herbie and Phyllis

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randy schuster posted a condolence

Thursday, September 7, 2023

Mom’s Eulogy Writing a eulogy for my mother is a daunting task. My mom. She knew me better than I know myself. What can I say about someone who touched and inspired hundreds if not thousands of people, myself included? What can I say that is not already known? In a generic sense I can say that during my long life my mom has always been by my side, with me, as far back as I can remember, rejoicing in my happiness, or wallowing in my pain. In the back of my mind I knew that one day she would pass on because this is life’s grand scheme; children eventually have to say goodbye to their parents. My mom was born in Winnipeg, Canada. She became a naturalized US citizen sometime in the 50’s. Not too long ago she told me that she was very proud to be Canadian. Her parents were Gertrude and Harry Gussin, my grandparents. She was the only girl who grew up with 3 brothers, Arnold, Syd, and Norman. She outlived her brothers by more than 30 years and I know she missed them terribly. I take some comfort to know that she’s with her brothers again, and her parents, and her son Steve, and her many dogs. Mom talked about Winnipeg a lot. She said that half the year she was freezing in snow and the other half she was sweating in humidity and that the mosquitos were the size of B-52’s. She always saw the Northern Lights but she was afraid of them because they made an eerie sound. More recently she talked about the Kosher butchers and how she and her cousin Reevel were traumatized when they saw the butchers twisting the chickens heads off. When they asked “Why do you do that?”the butcher answered “How else are you going to eat them?” Later, my mom became a vegetarian. She might have been a master chef but she did not eat most of the things she prepared. To me, Winnipeg sounded like hell on earth. My mom returned to Winnipeg twice, once in 1985 for her high school reunion with Lorri and once about 10 years later with me. She was invited to a wedding and she took me along because she wanted me to see where she had lived as a girl and a teenager. I knew that she had a fear of flying and I never quite figured out how she managed to pull this off. We went in April and the weather should have been pleasant, but we just happened to get there in the middle of the worst blizzard of the last century. I remember one night we were driving back to the hotel after some event and the car got stuck in a snow drift. I had to get out of the car and push. Even though I was wearing my down jacket I still felt frozen to the bone. I had never felt to cold. Mom joked with me later because I don’t remember this but apparently when I got back in the car, I told her through chattering teeth “How could you live in this place?” Really, Winnipeg was a very pleasant little city. My mom showed me where she went to school, the house where she grew up and of course, the Jewish cemetery. I also remember that everywhere we ate, the food was excellent. I had a theory that for half the year the people there are so bored that they learn how to cook because there’s nothing else to do. That might be how my mom became the chef that she was, along with the influence of her Italian in-laws. In 1953, my uncle Syd travelled to Southern California. I think he reported back to Winnipeg that “the fishing is good here,” and the rest of the family followed. They came in a Greyhound bus. They established themselves in Los Angeles. Her father was a house painter. Her mother was a house wife. Her brothers were painters but then later got into the wine business. My mom met and then married Lou Armine. They lived in the San Fernando Valley, in Sepulveda, today known as “North Hills.” That was the proverbial “marriage from hell.” It’s cliché to say that the only good thing that came from that marriage was me, and Lorri. I think I was 3 or 4 when they divorced. I remember that Lou came around a couple times and took Lorri and I places but then he stopped coming. Mom was a pioneer single mom. She had gone to business school in Winnipeg and with that under her belt she got a job as a secretary for Craig Cooperation. During these years Lorri was in school and I was in the company of baby-sitters and various great aunties. I don’t remember just how these events transpired but another man came into the picture. He lived with his son Steve in the Crenshaw area. His name was Ed. He drove a laundry truck and both he and Steve were professional photographers. I remember an image of Ed wearing a suit as he helped me put on a jacket and tie. I was going to a wedding. 5 days after this wedding, President Kennedy was assassinated. I remember Lou came to the apartment. He shook hands with Ed. In the background on the black and white TV was the Kennedy funeral. Then Lou disappeared and reappeared in my life about 40 years later. I was confused by all this. According to my mom, I constantly asked for Daddy Lou. She told me something like “Lou is not your father. Ed is your father.” She also told me when I was older that when she was dating Ed, she told him “my children need a father and your children need a mother; let’s get married” and they did, and as a result the course of my life changed forever. The union of my mom and Ed, along with Lorri and I, Steve, and later Marlene created what today is called a “blended family.” Again, my mom was a pioneer in this area. She did not use the prefix “step” as in “step- brother” or “step-sister.” She was clear about that. Steve was my brother, Marlene was my sister, and Ed was my father. Eventually Lorri and I were adopted. We stopped being Armines and we became Schusters. My birth certificate was changed. When this happened, I was in middle school. In P.E. class we lined up by our last names in alphabetical order. One day I was in the front of the line. The next day I was in the back of the line. I could tell that my teachers were also perplexed by this. I could see them looking at the roll book and looking at me and looking back at the roll book with this “what the hell?” expression on their faces. After the marriage my parents bought a house. We moved from our apartment in Palms back to the San Fernando valley, again to Sepulveda, about six blocks from where we lived with Lou. My mom lived in that house for 60 years. That’s the house where she died. One thing we took with us from Palms was a black puppy named “Silky”, our first of many dogs. My mom’s father, Harry, who I called “Zeida” died very young. My Baba, my mom’s mother, came to live with us soon after. In addition to being a blended family, we were a generational family too. And then Steve, 10 years my senior came to live with us and he was my brother in every way; we even looked alike. My Baba and my dad were both smokers. My mom hated that. Many times, they’d sneak out together in the backyard to have a smoke. During my elementary and middle school years I became “accident prone.” I was constantly having accidents and I must have given my mom a lot of grief. Most of these accidents could have been prevented had I not been such a dorky kid, but being shot and almost dying of pneumonia were actually out of my hands. Then I got the travel bug. My mom was not much of a traveler. She said that her ideal vacation was a weekend at the Marriott in Newport Beach. After high school, I started traveling every summer. I would go to school and work during the school year and take a long trip every summer. My mom was OK with this, but my travels started to get more exotic. One time I came back from Turkey and my mom told me that she had to get a world atlas because she couldn’t figure out where in the world I was. Then she began to ask me to bring back cook books. I was happy to do that for her. I came back from Bali with an Indonesian cookbook. True to her nature, she soon served up a plate of Nasi Goreng. Later Edith taught her how to cook Ecuadorian llapingachos. She loved that. All those years, my mom still was afraid of Lou. She thought that he might come and kidnap Lorri and me. He called once when I was in high school and asked about Lorri and me. My dad Ed spoke to him. Mom was always very elusive about Lou. She did say that she loved her in-laws and they taught her real Italian cooking. After my children were born, I made it very clear that I wanted to know Lou. I wanted my children to know their other grandfather. My mom actually made this happen. I think she made her peace and then located him. Even Ed was happy that I connected with Lou again. We had a relationship with him for a few years before he passed. My mom was a business woman. She had a up-scale clothing score called “Paraphernalia” in Beverly Hills during the sixties. She rubbed shoulders with celebrities. Rita Ross, younger sister of Diana Ross, worked at my mom’s store. Rita got tickets for us to see the Supremes farewell concert at the forum. We were front row center. At that concert, Diana Ross introduced the world to the Jackson 5. 11-year-old me watched 11-year old Michael Jackson performing a stone-throw away. She also had an adolescent crush on a singer named Tom Jones. She took Lorri and I to see him perform at the Greek. At Paraphernalia, mom also met Janice Joplin, Sharon Tate, and when I was sick at home with pneumonia, she got Ringo Starr’s “I hope you get better soon” autograph. she worked in a jewelry store and other clothing stores. What defined her most was when she and her friend Edie opened up a restaurant called “Buffeteria.” It was on the 4th floor of the McCullah Oil Building on the corner of Wilshire and Westwood Blvd in Westwood. Later they changed changed the name to “El’s Place” and moved down to the first floor. The menu consisted of dishes named after family members. My namesake was “Randy’s Endless Feast.” The restaurant was located on the ground floor. They served mostly to the people who worked in the building and they did catering. I worked there at times and so did Lorri. She was a very fair employer. People loved working for her. One of her favorite employees was a boy named Gustavo. We were the same age. There was a bus strike and Mom knew that many of her employees came from East L.A. and would not be able to get to work, so in order to avoid this situation, she took Gustavo home with her. We shared a room because there was nowhere else for him to stay. Only my mom would do something like that. I hope that Gustavo might be here today because I know that my Mom stayed in touch with him. Reaganomics happened and El’s Place went under. Lorri and I, along with most of our Gussin cousins were already working as that all teachers have to do, but she was a damned good teacher. She just wanted to share her teachers. I always thought that my mom had the qualities of a teacher, but I never imagined that among her other hats, she would enter this profession. She started teaching in her mid-fifties, the same age that I retired. Lorri, Steve, and I all went to Monroe. I’m not sure how my mom got a job at the school where her children went, but once she got established, she just took off. She may not have been too happy with LAUSD bureaucracy or with adjunct duties love of cooking and catering with her students. They say that it’s not a great idea when you work with your immediate family. I was concerned about this, but I must say that in the 15 or so years that I worked with my mom, it was great. There are real advantages when your mom runs the Viking Galley and is responsible for feeding hundreds of people a day. It sure beat going to the teacher’s cafeteria or brown bagging it in my room. Although we moved in different circles, it was clear to see that my mother brought a lot of fame and glory to Monroe. She was recognized by the district and by politicians. She won hundreds and thousands of dollars in scholarship money for her students who went to the best culinary institutes in the country. I know some of her students are here today and she would have loved that. She also made many bonding friendships with people who she met at Monroe. She was a workaholic. She got to work before 6 every morning. I learned just recently that she wasn’t always working. She and Nita Cosat, an English teacher, along with assistant principal Thane Opfells secret blessings, were busy at work rescuing Monroe’s feral cat population. My mom didn’t have a college education. While at Monroe, she went back to school in order to get her vocational credential. She loved being a student again. She went to Valley College and Mission College and she made good friend with one of her professors. She often said that having a high school education in Canada was about the same as having a Bachelors in this country My mother loved people. She didn’t care what color you were or what ethnicity. She didn’t care what religion you practiced, what politics you believed in, what language you spoke, or if you were gay or straight. She saw through all that. She saw the essence of who YOU were. That’s why she had so many many friends, most of whom she outlived. When Ali had her Bat mitzvah and Matthew had his Bar Mitzvah, half the people in attendance were my mom’s friends. She couldn’t do enough for you. Just a few years ago her gardener told her that his daughter was going to have a quincenera. She gave him $20 to give to his daughter. This is totally like my mom. Even in her final weeks when hospice nurses came to the house, she wanted to know all about them. And after she asked them tons of questions, she’d take them by the hand and walk them around the house and show them all of her family pictures. There were many who mom called her son’s or daughters. I think that this was an honor. Richard, her dearest friend and fellow caterer was her “Irish son.” She called my friend Jerry her “second son.” When we were kids, she would have been happy to give him a house key. Adam, our family handyman was “her son.” Top on this list was my wife, Edith. I remember back in 1983 I told my mom, “Remember I told you about my girlfriend in Ecuador? Her name is Edith. She wants to come here and see me. Can she stay here?” She said “of course she can.” I said “can we stay together in my room?” She answered “Are you crazy? Hell no!” When she finally met Edith, the love that followed was mutual. Mom was well aware that Edith’s mother was far away and it was natural that she become Edith’s mom. When Alba, Edith’s mom came here for Matthew’s birth, the first thing she did was approach mom and tell her in Spanish “thank you for being a mother to my daughter.” This relationship lasted for 40 years. Edith was in the room with mom when she took her last breath. When Edith’s family came here from Ecuador my mom was thrilled for her. She knew how important this was to her. She always wanted to meet them, take them around to her favorite places in Orange County, or take them out to dinner to places like Buca de Beppo or Maggianos. The fact that they couldn’t speak English made no difference to my mom. Edith’s family in Ecuador loved my mom. Mom would be pleased to know that they’re watching this service in Ecuador. Saludos a ustedes, mi familia querida en Ecuador. There were only 2 people who my mom disliked. My mom told one of these unfortunates “if you ever hit my auntie again, I’ll cut your balls off.” The other was an AP at Monroe. He tried messing with my mom’s TA and she stormed into his office and called him a f---ing asshole.” Almost everyone at Monroe shared this sentiment, only my mom would pull off a stunt like that. Her students knew that you could NOT mess around in Mrs. Schuster’s class. Legend has it that one boy did not know this. My mom and this boy got into a fist-fight. They were rolling on the floor and trading punches. The boy got expelled from Monroe. Later my son Matthew commented that “they probably expelled the only white kid at Monroe.” Mom also had quite a sense of humor. No matter what, she saw the humor in everything. The last coherent conversation she had was with Adam, her handyman. Adam told her, “I’m here Eleanor, do you want me to fix something?” She said “Yeah, me.” She loved to tell people about when she ran a 4k race and she came in second-to-last. The guy she beat was running on one leg. When my daughter Alondra showed her a video clip we took of mountain gorillas in Rwanda, she said “They look like some of my uncles in Canada.” When her brother Arnold was in his last moments, she was with him. He spent his final time on earth telling jokes with my mom. How can I have written so much about mom and not talk about family. Maybe it’s because it’s so cliché to say that family meant everything to mom because you have all heard that before. My mom made the ultimate sacrifice for her family. In 1979 she donated one of her kidneys to her brother Norman who was in need of one. My grandmother had 10 brothers and sisters. They got together at the house and played poker and smoked and gambled. They were really loud and it drove me nuts, but my mom loved those gatherings. But what she loved the most was Thanksgiving dinner at our house and Passover at my Uncle Syd’s house, with all of her nieces and nephews. When the guitars came out, she was in heaven. And then there were the dogs. She started rescuing dogs before the word “rescue” became what it is today. She wanted to keep dogs off of death row. She started bringing home dogs and instead of adopting them out, she kept them herself, along with dogs that her family members surrendered to her. At one point we had 5 dogs in the house. When those dogs died, she brought in new ones. When it comes to family, I think my mother’s greatest happiness came to her when she became a grandmother, or a “baba.” First Joel, then Vanessa, then Alondra, then Sean, and Finally Matthew. She just loved the Baba role. On the other hand, her greatest unhappiness came to her when we lost Steve. She did everything she could to save her son, including asking Monroe staff if they could donate part of their liver. We lost steve anyway. No parent should ever have to bury their child. I don’t think my mom ever recovered from that. I wonder what heaven looks like for Eleanor Schuster. Maybe it’s the Viking Galley, working with her students on a catering order. Maybe it’s Passover seder with the family. Maybe it’s playing with her dogs. Whatever it is, I know that she’s there. Last Wednesday night I was at her house putting some things in the car and I happened to look up and I saw a shooting star. You usually don’t see shooting stars here because of city lights, but this one was bright and it had a big tail as it arced from east to west across Monogram Ave. I don’t think this was a coincidence. She was saying “goodbye” to the physical world she was once part of and she was saying “hello” to the world of stars where she is now. I think this was an appropriate message; she is now with the stars, and that’s where she should be.

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Alondra Schuster uploaded photo(s)

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

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Alondra Schuster Posted Sep 6, 2023 at 9:13 AM

I drawing I made when I was 7 years old, on what appears to be a servers note paper at a restaurant.

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Alondra Schuster posted a condolence

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

Just a few weeks ago, I was walking down a dusty trail, balancing my phone on one shoulder as I navigated my dog around other hikers. On the other end of the line was my cousin Vanessa. We were comparing our work schedules to try to plan a trip to Los Angeles in the following month. We had learned of our Baba’s cancer diagnosis in early August, and had been tossing around possible dates to come and see her. I had recently made the trip from Oregon in the spring. I didn’t know it then, but those couple of days I spent with my Baba in April would be the last time I would have a conversation with her in person. We had sat across from each other in her living room with wide smiles. My eyes casually moved from wall to wall. It was a home that seemed frozen in time. I thought quietly that nothing has changed since before I was born. Baba was being just as funny and feisty as ever. I listened to her complain about the nuances of her daily life. I nodded along as she proudly showed me her medical supplies. “Never again,” she said, “I will never go back to a hospital again”. My Baba was always in control, and clear about what she wanted. Many of you already know that she has been planning this funeral for years. I took a lot of interest in knowing what her end of life wishes were. I asked a lot of questions, and scanned the room for specific documents. As a nurse, it's hard to turn that side of your brain off. You cannot silence that desire to be someone's advocate. There is a drive to protect someone so fragile, as they transition to the beyond. It was just after that phone call with Vanesa a few weeks ago, that we realized our Baba may be declining. I had called her to check in, as I frequently did on my walks, and heard the change in her voice. I hung up the phone, and we booked a flight departing in two days time. When people pass away, we tend to struggle with feelings of regret. I regret that I did not come sooner, and that I did not call more often. By the time I arrived, she was already hanging in the space between this world and what comes next. I did not get to speak to her again, not beyond a few words establishing if she was comfortable. What I do not regret is the following week I spent with her. I loved tending to her, holding her hand, cradling a phone to her ear while someone spoke gently on the other end. I had the space to reflect on our shared time together. I was able to re-live memories we made in her home. I took some time alone to say goodbye one night. When morning came and she was still with us, I said another round of goodbyes that evening. The following morning her nurse said, “she will let go when she feels like it,” and I laughed at the revelation that she is still running the show. I decided from then on that I would just keep talking to her like I normally would. I updated her on how my husband was, let her know I watered the plants, and complained at length about the way she organized her things. Room by room, Vanessa and I had begun to go through her belongings. We opened cabinet after cabinet, packed to the brim of poorly stacked glassware and serving platters. I thought this must feel similar to disarming a bomb. Those hours at her bedside were moments that I did not anticipate having, and I felt truly blessed. During one of those times I spoke to her, I listed all of the things we had in common. Her love of cooking and quality kitchenware, I definitely got from her. Although in her elder years she apparently grew a disdain for cooking. Her love of gardening is another passion I picked up from Baba. It is a passion that I truly cherish. She meticulously tended to her plants, and obsessed over her landscaping. I must admit, we both have spent an astonishing amount of money on this hobby. The dearest trait that we share however, is our sacred love for animals. My Baba had a profound need to adopt every stray dog she found. We discovered a dresser drawer full of dog collars she obviously could not bear to get rid of. She is going to be buried with them. Many of you are likely familiar with my Baba inquiring after your dog's well-being. She loved dogs to the extent that she even had photos of other people's dogs in her house. That piece of her is truly something special. It is a kindness and pureness of heart that sets her aside from the rest of us. During that week, I slowly said my goodbyes to the house that once held so many family gatherings. I found my grandfather's cassette tapes, and some were his own mixtapes with songs listed in his handwriting. I felt these tapes in my hand, and asked if I could keep them because they reminded me of him. I spent the next four days searching the house for something that made me feel the same way about my Baba. Sadly, I never found anything. I would hold certain things, and feel absolutely nothing. I felt a bit defeated when I got on the plane that would bring me back to Oregon. It was only in the past few days I have spent at home, returning to the things I love, that I realized something special. I see my Baba in every blooming flower I admire in my garden. I feel her smile when I knead my homemade bread. I hear her laugh when I play with my dog. It turns out I didn't need anything to bring home with me, because she is all around me, in everything that brings me joy. I will love you always Baba. Your granddaughter Alondra.

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Vanessa Schuster uploaded photo(s)

Monday, September 4, 2023

Baba and Gramps ❤️

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Tripp Jones Posted Sep 6, 2023 at 11:11 AM

wow....what a stunning photo!!

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Margie Finn posted a condolence

Sunday, September 3, 2023

(Shared with love by Margie Finn) Of the many memories shared with my beloved friend, El, one stands out as more humorous than serious. Along with El & Ed, my husband Jerry and I were fellow members of a social/charitable group called "The Providers of the National Asthma Center." We held many fundraisers that turned out to be wonderful parties for us all. One evening, during a meeting at the Schusters' house (with El's FANTASTIC FOOD!), one of El's sweet dogs took a tiny nip at my husband's leg. It was not serious, but El insisted that he go to Kaiser to get a rabies shot! Though Jerry resisted, El, of course, won that battle. Reluctantly, we went, and the shot was no problem. However, while there, my warped sense of humor decided on a plan. We took a detour to Kaiser's restroom and carried out my plan. Half an hour later, we showed up at El/Ed's door, with Jerry's entire body covered with toilet paper "bandages" wrapped all over his body and head, as though he were in a horrible accident. El's face turned white, but soon after, she and her entire houseful of people were hysterical at Jerry's "injuries." Turned out to be an unforgettable evening, but best of all, El admitted to overreacting about the dogbite, but loved the outcome. She was the greatest sport! Another memory was that of Marlene & Bob's beautiful wedding in the Schusters' lovely patio. The men had moved the piano out to the patio, where my husband Jerry (a pianist) had been instructed weeks before to play nothing but"Here Comes The Bride" at Marlene's request. Jerry rehearsed nonstop and had brought no sheet music for any other. So all was fine--we thought. When the rabbi arrived to start the ceremony and heard of the plan, he shouted, "ABSOLUTELY NOT! That song was written by Wagner - Nazi friend of Hitler's, and I will not allow that in this ceremony!" El was stunned. Marlene was stunned. Jerry was stunned. So without preparation, Jerry had to ad-lib from memory and came up with a suitable substitute ("Sunrise, Sunset"), which worked out fine. This was a memorable evening, and we were happy that El was happy. We all knew that we could NEVER say "no" to El, but we could have fun with it, no matter what.

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Jerry Alban posted a condolence

Saturday, September 2, 2023

There are so many memories that I could share...where would I begin? Like the time Randy and I got into her fridge and left a big mess in the sink, and instead of having a fit, Eleanor just commented that we were growing boys who must have been raised in a barn, then she cleaned it all up! And where do you think Randy gets his habit for keeping such an immaculate house? Sorry Edith, he gets it from his mom. Her place was always spotless: even when we were under foot. And so full of character and love. And there was always enough love to go around: love for her mother, Bubba, and the kids and all of their friends, and her late husband Ed. Together they opened their home and their hearts to so many, myself included. and let's not get started with all of her causes...and a lifetime of saving dogs. Wow...so many memories, of a truely special women and an entirely unique family. her life should be as a blessing to all of us. Thanks for being a second mom, luv ya Jerry

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Nada A Khalaf posted a condolence

Saturday, September 2, 2023

I have been Eleanor's veterinarian for close to 30 years and have known her, and many in her family, through multiple dogs and rescues. All dogs are treated like royalty in the Schuster's residence. Over the years, Eleanor has become a friend. We chatted often, even if no pets were involved and we maintained our friendship well after Eleanor was too frail to have a pet. She was a smart woman, fiercely loyal to her friends and family and cared tremendously despite her apparent tough persona. May she rest in peace. My condolences to all the immediate and extended family and friends. Nada Khalaf, DVM and all the staff at VCA McClave

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Kitty Hack lit a candle

Saturday, September 2, 2023

I had the privilege of working with Eleanor at James Monroe High School. As a Counselor there, I had the opportunity to work with some of her Culinary Arts Students. They all loved her, learned amazing things from her, and were very inspired by her. One of her students went on to work with Wolfgang Puck and had her name on an Academy Awards Dinner Menu as a contributing chef! I loved Eleanor's no nonsense approach to life. She said what she meant, and she meant what she said! I learned a lot from her. I feel so blessed having met El, worked with her, but most of all, being able to call her my friend. Thank you Eleanor, for all that you did to impact so greatly those of us whose lives you touched. I will miss you, and you remain in my heart forever. Much love always, Kitty Hack

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Debbie Beaver posted a condolence

Friday, September 1, 2023

I remember how beautiful Eleanor was when she was a teenager. She was tall, slim, olive skin with gorgeous dark hair in page-boy style. She looked like a queen to me when I was a little girl. We remained close cousins till her last day. It will be a big void in my life.

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The family of Eleanor Schuster uploaded a photo

Friday, September 1, 2023

Eleanor Schuster

1931 - 2023

Funeral Service

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