Thursday night , December 11, I turned on Ted Koppel's show
"Nightline," at 11:30 pm, which I rarely do (because I find it hard
to stay awake). Why I decided to watch on Thursday despite the fact
that I was rather sleepy I don't really understand, or perhaps I
don't want to admit. But I propped up my pillows, set the sleep timer
on the TV remote, and started watching. What appeared on the screen
kept me awake, riveted.

Koppel announced that Henry Goldberg, who had suffered >from Fanconia
Anemia the short 6 years of his life, had passed away that morning.
They replayed a previously shown story on Henry and his parents'
efforts to keep him alive.

That brought back a wash of memories of his grandmother, Phyllis
Goldberg, who died in February, and who had become a dear friend. She
was a tireless and accomplished volunteer for the Yizkor Book Project
and other JewishGen projects. Up to a month before her own death, as
she struggled with her final illness, she kept asking for projects to
work on, saying to me that these were her legacy. She emailed me
photos of her and Henry, both wearing baseball caps to hide the bald
heads. She emailed me a photo of her undergoing chemo while sitting
in a chair proofreading a file for JewishGen. She emailed me parts
of the daily diary her daughter-in-law kept of Henry's ups and downs,
of the extensive medical procedures he underwent, of the family's
emotions, and of Henry's indomitable spirit. These were
heart-wrenching but also amazing insights into a family of
remarkable people.

My restless night was full of dreams of Phyllis and when I awoke I
felt it was no accident that I had turned on Nightline. I have been
blessed and enriched by Phyllis's friendship and concern for others.
Thank you, Phyllis and Henry, two beautiful souls.

Joyce Field
jfield@...