While he touched the lives of all who met him, his deepest desire was to find his brother once more

As told to Ariella Schiller by Elika Rezvani

I didn’t grow up religious, but the school I attended in Los Angeles was a girls-only establishment that put a large emphasis on kindness and care. Every Friday for 45 minutes we would go to an old age home to visit the residents and spread some cheer. I loved these visits and looked forward to them all week.

My childhood was an eventful one. We escaped from Iran and settled in Israel when I was a toddler, but when I was ten years old, my mom died of colon cancer, and my whole world shattered. My father couldn’t care for me and sent me to Los Angeles to live with my grandfather, who spoke no English or Hebrew. I had no closure from my life in Israel; I was simply sent away as an orphan, alone and lonely. Then a couple from the Jewish Federation connected with me. They lived in Hollywood, and unofficially adopted me. I had a family again. I had a childhood once more. I attended school, and that’s how I met a kindred spirit who also had no family.

I appreciated being able to be the giver, to come into someone’s room and just be a ray of sunshine every Friday. One resident in particular caught my eye, the sweetest-looking older man, probably in his mid-eighties. I approached him, said hello, and instantly connected with Harry Markowitz,* who told me upon introduction that he had served in World War II, and he asked if I would like to see his war medals.

I started coming alone, even after the school program finished.

We grew close, bonding over old stories, classic movies, and the conversation of two kindred souls. I spoke to him frequently of my life, and he shared with me many stories about a childhood I could barely imagine. Little did I know on those long Friday afternoons that meeting Harry would change the course of both of our lives.

Harry’s story began before World War II with his mother’s passing when he was only seven years old. Together with his older sister and younger brother, the three Markowitzes were sent to an orphanage on the East Coast. His sister was adopted swiftly, he said, and so was his younger brother Maxwell, but no one adopted Harry. It was traumatizing for him to be separated from his siblings, but he had no choice. And so, from the age of 16, Harry was on his own.

He enlisted to fight in World War II and serve his country proudly. When Harry retired from the army, he reconnected with his brother, but then they lost touch and couldn’t find one another.

Now it had been over six decades since they had seen one another, said Harry, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and over five decades since they last spoke. Harry told me how he tried desperately to find Maxwell and enlisted various people to help him with his search over the years. Unfortunately, Harry was left still without family. He never married or had children, and while he touched the lives of all who met him, his deepest desire was to find his brother once more.