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Who was he ?? They seem useless with shovels, etc.

It's not 6ft?

What's wrong with the soil it seems hard to shovel

Cardboard coffin

They put the casket in the burial vault then put dirt in the burial vault then buried it. Is this somewhere else other than America? Because America put the casket in the vault then seals the vault then the vault is buried

Are only Jewish men allowed to bury a Jew?

I've never seen a grave that shallow

Is the casket biodegradable? I've never seen one like that before.

Are these Jews?

Hola buenas noches como

Don't steal grave!

Einna Linda 2jonna❤🎉 2:19

Oh I see, now. It's not something I've sent in the uk

Miss you- still dream that you are alive. Love, Court

PART II: I also frequently tell this story to illustrate the use of aggressive, bully behavior for the benefit of our “people”. Somewhere on the near east side of Cleveland, Rosen & Company was engaged by the bankruptcy courts to set up and sell a huge warehouse full of wicker baskets and other similar gift type stuff. On the 3rd day of set-up, well timed because Stanley was there helping us, a black stretch limo pulls up to the loading dock and two Neanderthals in sharkskin suits, straight out of Godfather central casting, get out in advance of their made-man boss, who was not a huge, but himself a goomba. They came to tell us that we needed to stop what we were doing because according to them, if a box is moved in the warehouse, it must be a union member moving the box. Kenny, Cliff and I were intimidated, Stanley was not. Stanley got angry and defiant. So imagine the scene. Two Teamster-mafia-type goombas and their Jimmy Hoffa-like boss, who himself was at least 6’, nose-to-nose arguing with a 5’7” baldish little man, dressed for labor, wagging his finger up at these gargantuan sized, very threatening big men. “We are agents of the Federal Bankruptcy courts, working for judge (he rattles the name) and the Feds have no agreement with your union, so get the fuck out of this building and don’t come back! You don’t want to mess with the Federal government or me!” As this is happening, Cliff, Kenny and I are flabbergasted at the size of his balls and we slowly back up across the warehouse floor, quietly debating what to do if this escalates to violence. Do we defend Dad, or do we run? This all went down in the span of maybe 4 minutes… a very, very tense 4 minutes. We never finished deciding if we would fight or take flight, because those organized crime lions backed down. THE TEAMSTER-MOB MEN BACKED DOWN TO STANLEY “THE CHIHUAHUA” ROSEN!!! The lesson and example I was shown that day was of a man so loyal, dedicated and directed to fight for his people that his life and well-being was secondary. Perhaps that was extreme, but the concept was valuable and influenced me. This is my father, Stanley. Asshole is in the mix there, but so is loyal, dedicated, passionate, fierce, directed, and honest. These are the examples he provided for me and they had the desired effect. My father liked to boil everything down to short phrases, most of which he borrowed. We called them Stanley-isms. Some were ridiculous and dumb, but others shaped my attitudes and sense of morality. Here are just a few of many. Engage brain before shooting off at the mouth! This was on a plaque he picked up at some gift-shop somewhere and on the wall in our basement in Pepper Pike. Every time he would reference it, I would get offended, because it was something at which he was not very good. I have since realized that I was not the only target for that message, Dad needed to be constantly reminded of that philosophy too. Apparently “athlete’s tongue” is hereditary! It was his struggle too. If you focus on money and success, you will not achieve either. If you focus on service to your client, you will enjoy plenty of both. I call this one our family motto. This is probably the second most important Stanley-ism in my life. “Do a good job for the sake of doing a good job”, he would tell me. The idea is that a good job is the primary reward and money is the side-effect. This keeps me focused and grounded…but not as much as the next one… A pig gets fat, and a hog gets slaughtered. This is the primary life lesson my father gave me. This quasi-joke, Stanley-ism is profound and important in my life. There are three kinds of persons out there in the world. There are those who take too much, those who don’t take enough, and those who take what they deserve The guilt and reputation of taking too much makes one suspicious, untrusting, guilty and miserable. The poverty of taking too little from life leads to resentment, feeling abused, and unnecessary stuggle/sacrifice…miserable. But those of us who know our value, do good work and good deeds, and take (or charge) what we deserve are happier and more content with life. I strive to be a pig. I strive to take what I deserve, no more, no less. These Stanley-isms have shaped my life because I not only heard them, but in various ways, I lived them. These are important gifts from my dad, for which I am thankful. My father’s failures are widely known and not forgotten. There were many. But Stanley Rosen was not a failure in life. If for no other reason, Stanley made me, nurtured me, taught me…More than anyone, Stanley is responsible for who I am and what I am. I am grateful for my father Stanley Herbert Rosen.

THE EULOGY OF MY FATHER I WANTED TO READ, BUT WAS BARRED BY MY SELFISH, NARCISSITIC SISTER: I AM, BECAUSE OF HIM. I I have spent the larger part of my life angry, hurt and disappointed in my father. This is true and well known both by those around me and my father himself, but that’s not the whole story. It’s just the part of the iceberg we can see that rises above the water. That Stanley was an asshole, is well known and well documented, we don’t need to be reminded. What we need to remember is how deeply Stanley Rosen felt love for his family. Much of his abuse and anger in life sprung from his frustration around how to properly express that love and caring. For that, we look to the big picture of what he did, not necessarily how he did it. Despite disappointment and anger, my father is largely responsible for the person I am today. For that, I am very grateful. He used to joke about being an example for his children, sometimes the example is a bad one (LOL). While that truth was sometimes said in jest, the positive side, where Stanley served as a good example, was pretty expansive as well. I am a real estate broker, like my father before me and my great uncles before him. I am a salesman, like my father before me and his father before him. I am a teacher, like my father before me. I am who and what I am largely because of the influence of my father. More than anyone else, I am, because of him. Stanley taught me by lesson and example that the key to success is representing and defending the rights and interests of our people (clients, friends and family). Without that sense of fiduciary responsibility, nothing else in sales/business means anything. My father gave me that gift, which he was given by his people, passed down thru generations of family-institutional knowledge. That gift is personal and priceless, and my gratitude for it is immeasurable. Business skill, philosophy and training are great and valuable gifts, but not the best or most important gift I got from my father. My father taught me morals, ethics and loyalty. Not the sterile, textbook versions, but real life, with variables and contradictions that require nuance. Not all of those lessons were by positive example. Some of them were lessons in how NOT to behave or what NOT to do. Regardless of an example to follow or one to reject, these things have shaped and nurtured me into the person I am today, the person I am glad to be. When I think of Stanley Rosen, Lyndon B. Johnson often comes to mind. Johnson was a generally loathsome person when judged by his behavior. He was a bully, he was selfish and a superior manipulator…but he used those skills for the American people with great and long-lived effect. It was LBJ who achieved the Kennedy agenda. There’s no way Kennedy would have achieved civil rights, voting rights and so many other great American achievements. LBJ was an asshole, but he was OUR asshole and we love him for his legacy which continues to enrich our lives. To me, my father was my LBJ. No one intimidated Stanley Rosen, Stanley intimidated them. Stanley was not a large man, but he had balls the size of VW’s and was not afraid to use them for the advantage of the people whose interests he represented. I saw this many times in person, and in the hours driving from one town to another in the car we often discussed how to ‘represent’ our clients/family effectively; to bully and manipulate others for the benefit of our people. Stanley was a warrior, fierce, insistent, strategic, and effective. I am overjoyed to be half as strong a warrior in that way for those I represent and love. No eulogy is complete without at least one poignant and humorous story. I often tell these two to illustrate Stanley’s skill and dedication to his duties. Somewhere in the mid-80s, I was home for Winter and Marvin, a lawyer we affectionately referred to as ‘God’, gave us a few really crappy houses in bankruptcy to sell. It was cold and there was about a foot of snow on the ground. That was a day where we were dressed for business, not labor. I was in my favorite double breasted suit, looking good and feeling quite professional. So we leave the law offices and head to the Kinsman neighborhood in Cleveland to check on these vacant, foreclosed upon houses (both up-down duplexes). As we roll up the driveway in our classy Buick Riviera, we notice an orange extension cord hung from a window in our unit like a high-wire, connected to the home next door and lights on in the second floor unit. This duplex is supposed to be vacant. This high-wire act told us that there was something wrong. A prudent agent in this situation would have called ‘God’ and told him there were squatters in the unit and waited for him to have them removed, etc…but not Stanley. Stanley doesn’t wait for anyone! He took a personal offense to this theft and illegal occupation, as if it was his own property. I loved that about him, that intense dedication, but what happened next was stupid, dangerous, BALLSY AS HELL and wrong…but in the end, was effective. I would never do this, but…mad respect. We had keys to the unit and used them. We entered in the back and the lower unit was vacant as promised, but from the second floor we smelled food and heard a TV. Keep in mind, this was not a good neighborhood and as business dressed white people in a ritzy car, we stuck out like a sore thumb there. There was no place to hide in our fancy car and business dress. I did not feel safe there and we had no idea who was in this house, other than the fact they should not be there. Stanley was pissed! He was aghast that someone would do that, and foolishly decided to confront these illegal squatters without being armed or having backup (I was NOT backup). I knew it was a bad idea, and based on previous similar situations I figured that if I was next to him when he pissed off whoever was behind the door, they would shoot at him, but since he was indestructible, they would miss him and shoot me. I refused to climb the stairs with him. He stomps up the stairs and bangs on the door aggressively, while I was shaking with adrenaline and ready for the flight part of “fight/flight”. Of course, he won that one. It was actually a couple women using the unit as a daycare and they were not dangerous. They’d hooked up the extension cord for power and were heating the unit with a burning stove. It really was a sad scene. Stanley firmly told them they had to vacate and not come back. He told them he would not call the cops if they were gone in the morning, and they were. His aggressive, risky and foolish behavior saved everyone involved from delays and interactions with law enforcement. He benefitted the neighborhood by reducing the time a home stays vacant. From this, I learned that being a professional is about being effective and dedicated to the interests of our client, not some calm demeanor and fakery.

This service does not do Stanley Rosen justice. Just telling the chronological timeline of his life (twice) is not him. My name is Jay Rosen and I am Stanley & Ida's youngest son. This was not supposed to be how this happened. Staley had a prepaid and pre-arranged funeral plan and plot next to my mother, who passed exactly a month before Dad. This service and burying him separate from my mother and against his wishes is a selfish exercise in Sheila's narcissism and demand for 100% of the attention of my father. I was there, but was told I could not speak and was made to feel very unwelcome, so I stood about 50 yards away and waited for Sheila's farce to end before saying goodbye. Aside from Sheila and her entourage of flunkies and hangers on, there were people at this service I had not seen for decades and I needed to share my grief with them. Greg, Steve, Gary, Micheal, Kenny, Bonnie, Fern, Ruthie, the other Steve, Sherrie and others. My sister took that away from me too. Since I was barred from speaking at my father's funeral, and considering the hatchet job that was done twice to describe my father, here is the eulogy I was not allowed to read. Note that I wrote this in January, just before going to see him in Cleveland, when we thought he was near the end then. He read this. That's what is really important. It is long and has many stories, so if yyo don't have the stamina, here is the headline. STANLEY ROSEN SHOLD NOT BE JUDGED FOR THE HORRIBLE AND HURTFUL THINGS HE SAID TO US, BUT BY HIS LOVING, SUPPORTIVE AND LIFE TEACHING BEHAVIOR...THE THINGS HE DID. Judge him that way and he was a great man. BTW: He did innovate the buyer's premium for the commercial auction industry in 1969. Sheila does not know the story, I do. I spent more time with him than my brother, sister or even mother did for 30 years. I know who the bodies are and where they are buried. Sheila does not. SEE NEXT COMMENT

Goodbye, dear Lola. That gorgeous smile of yours must be lighting the heavens.

BIG HUG!