Dr. Alan B. Echikson

Born in Newark, Dr. Echikson grew up in South Orange. He graduated valedictorian from Carteret Academy, Dartmouth College and then Cornell Medical School. He served his residencies at Bellevue and Mount Sinai Hospitals in New York City, rising to chief resident.

Instead of pursuing a big-city research career, he joined his father Joseph to practice medicine in New Jersey. He remained in practice for 56 years, retiring only in 2011.

Dr. Echikson’s wife Barbara passed away in 2003. He leaves a partner Judy Cohen, two sons, William of Brussels, Belgium, and Tom of Potomac, Maryland, and five grandchildren, Samuel, Julia, Ben, Daniel and Alex.

The funeral will be held at Temple B’nai Jeshurun in Short Hills on January 29 at 1 p.m.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Dr. Echikson's memory to St. Barnabas Hospice Care (Barbara Echikson fund), 94 Old Shorts Hills Rd., Livingston, NJ, 07039 or to American Friends of the International Jewish Centre Belgium, c/o Sharon Light, 2407 Colston Drive, Silver Spring, MD 20910, USA, E-mail address: [email protected], website: www.ijc.be

*** Eulogies from the Echikson family ***

From son William:

My father Alan Echikson has left us. He was 85 years old and lived a full, happy life, as a doctor, as a husband and partner, and as a father and grandfather. Thank you

all from coming here to testify to celebrate his life.

Just a few weeks ago, we were together, our entire family, at his place in Florida. My dad played golf with his grandchildren. He took my Finnish wife to see a Finnish movie.

He took his granddaughter Julia to a Hollywood blockbuster. He diagnosed his grandson Samuel’s bad back. He supported another grandson Ben as he prepared his college application. All of us went to Miami where he loved the Wynwood street art. We shared great

home cooked meals - and good bottles of wine.

When we returned to Belgium and Dad to New Jersey, we kept in touch. A week ago on Friday before going to synagogue, I gave him a call and we had a wonderful conversation.

He was planning to go to New York the next day and see the show Beautiful. We talked about the show and I reminded him that a major character was his his patient, the famed music impresario Donnie Kirschner.

Then that evening, my dad stumbled and an ambulance took him to the emergency room. He had suffered a stroke. I flew back to the States the next day and found him in a coma.

My Dad was a rational man and understood mortality. He was prepared. He didn’t want to live as a cripple. He didn’t want to end his days in a nursing home. He was independent

for all his 85 years and wanted to die that way. In the end, he did not suff. He left us quietly, peacefully, For that, at least, I’m grateful.

My Dad inspired me. He encouraged me to study, saying he would pay for any education I wanted - but not a dime after I graduated. I took this lesson to heart and have tried

(with success for the most part) to pass his teaching onto our children.

When I moved after college to Europe, my dad would have preferred that I stay close in New Jersey. But he saw that I was happy and accepted my decision. When I decided to

become a journalist, he would have preferred me to become a lawyer. But he saw that I was happy and he accepted my decision. Thanks Dad.

Dad was a great doctor. As a child, I remember him taking me on his rounds to the hospital. Everybody treated him with such respect. I admired how he could comfort even

the sickest of patients. When I fell ill with kidney cancer, he diagnosed the disease and helped me overcome it. He didn’t believe in medical miracles.

Outside of the office, Dad couldn’t be alone. He was married for more than four decades to my Mom and was devastated by her departure in 2003. I want to thank his partner

Judy for making the past 15 years so happy for him.

Dad, I will miss you. Your daughter in law will miss you. Your grandchildren will miss you. We were blessed with your presence and we are at least happy that your last days

were without pain and that you leave us with with wonderful memories.

From granddaughter Julia:

I'm Julia. I was Alan's favorite granddaughter. Each time I would see him he would ask me ‘how is my favorite granddaughter?’ I would always reply to him telling him, ‘Wow thank you for the honor. I just had so much stiff competition given that I'm your only granddaughter,’

Each time I would see grandpa, we would have long conversations. We would talk about any anything interesting: politics, food, movies.

When I was asked to give an eulogy, it made me wonder, What will I remember most about Grandpa? For me, the answer is how he taught me tolerance and empathy.

I’m an opinionated person. Whenever I spoke with Grandpa, I always took a strong stance, be it against Trump or for Mexican food (which he hated).

But Grandpa always pushed me to look beyond myself and my opinion Whether or not he agreed with me, he wanted me to understand why those people believed in what they did and why they chose to make those decisions. As he would say ‘different strokes for different folks’. He taught me to respect people’s decisions even if I disagreed with them. Only through these lessons, I learned to empathize with people.

I’ll forever remember my grandfather for teaching me these invaluable life lessons.

He was a wonderful Grandfather and I miss him already.

From grandson Daniel Echikson

As I sat, watching grandpa in the hospital, peacefully breathing his last breaths, I could not help but think of his smiles.

There are many ways to remember a life--it is dizzying. So I settled, at grandpa’s hospital bedside, to remember his smiles.

As we all do, grandpa had many kinds of smiles. Two of his smiles shine brightest in my memory.

The first of these was his smile that signaled joy. The corners of his lips would wind far across his face, his nose would wrinkle upwards, his ears would lift up, and his teeth would present themselves for all to see.

This smile was a musical, and grandpa’s features were actors that followed the same stage directions each time, cumulatively conveying joy.

This was grandpa’s smile at my brother’s bar mitzvah, at my college graduation. It’s the smile I see when I look through photos of grandpa’s wedding and my uncle’s wedding.

This was a kind of smile that made those around grandpa smile, too.

The second kind of smile for which I will remember grandpa was a grin that half-wanted to be a smirk. This smile was usually accompanied by a chuckle. It was a subtle smile. I loved this smile.

As with grandpa’s smile of joy, with this smile, grandpa’s ears and nose would move about his face. Unlike grandpa’s smile of joy, with this smile, his teeth would not present themselves for all to see. Instead, his lips would hide his teeth and move gently upwards.

When grandpa smiled this way, I could tell he was thinking something that he would never say.

This was grandpa’s smile when my dad and uncle got into a brotherly squabble. This was grandpa’s smile when one of his grandchildren said something ridiculous.

What is it that I love about this smile? Just as I could never tell what grandpa was thinking about when he smiled this way, I do not know precisely why it shines so bright in my memory.

Maybe I remember it so dearly because it signaled not joy, which is always fleeting, but a deep contentedness with life.

This was the smile of a person who flourished, who was deeply happy with his life.

It was a reassuring smile. Thank you, grandpa, for sharing it with us all.

From best friend ARTHUR SCHECHNER:

At the end of Herman Mellvilles “Moby Dick,” Ishmael quotes from the book of Job “ so I alone am escaped and left to tell thee the tale.”

That is how I feel today: not totally alone, but our generation is thinning out, and so, I want to tell thee the tale” of Alan Echikson.

Alan survived on life support for almost one week, unconscious and unmoving. When they took him off support, he should have died in 30 minutes. Instead, he tarried for another day and half.

What was he waiting for to die?

It is almost as if he wanted to be sure all his beloved family was safely in the house before he turned off the lights. He loved them.

Alan was a friend of mine for a very long time. Arnold Palmer introduced us when I asked Arnold for a recommendation for a Doctor. This friendship remains intact after 60 years.

Who was my friend, Alan? Who was this man we mourn and miss and say goodbye to today?

Alan was a complex person. Sometimes in error, but never in doubt.

He and I experienced and discussed many things, sometimes many times over.

We travelled together. We dined together. We shared experiences, great and small together. We mostly agreed. Sometimes, we were miles apart, as in our political views, but we never had a serious falling out.

I used to tell him, “Alan, if two people agree on everything, one of them isn’t needed”

We agree on that.

We played golf together twice a week for many, many years. His game softened a bit this past year, and he would criticize himself with the moan “Oh Alan” after a particularly poor shot. Bbut he loved the game and loved the competition,. Somehow, he kept the scores of the entire foursome in his head hole by hole, lest someone forget a shot or two in a two dollar Nassau game.

He was exceptionally bright and he told bad jokes poorly.

He admired and adored his father, Joe. He spoke about him and his medical prowess often to me. He was totally and permanently in love with his dear Barbara. After she passed, he never fully let go, always carrying a piece of her always in his heart.

He was loving, respectful and a bit in awe of his two sons and their wives. He always considered them way brighter than himself.

His grandchildren, Oh my G-D. He told me many times each round, that they were the brightest, most beautiful, wonderful in every way. people that ever walked this earth.

And of course Judy, his later love. My Judi and I introduced them one to the other. He flipped over her from the start.

Alan was always anxious to do Judys’ bidding who, in turn, wanted to do his.

He never realized that living with Alan Echikson was not always an easy thing.

What a wonderful, loving 14 years they had together. and will continue, because love doesn’t die, only the person.

Above all of this love, Alan loved, really loved being a medical doctor and an internist, rather than a specialist.

We discussed this many times. He often told me, “I am a medical detective. My skill is to convert complaints, random and sometimes vague, into a diagnosis of a specific disease.

then treat it, if possible, or refer it off.

Alan loved this role,being the shomer, the gatekeeper for entry way into medical diagnosis , treatment and hopefully, cure.

He loved the challenge and he loved the victory.

I think, that’s who Alan was,

So, how do measure this man ?

We have , and will hear all the nice and good things

about him. Can we sum it up ? Can you condense a life and what we should do about it into a few precious sentences at a funeral?

It’s difficult, but I’ll try.

First, we should celebrate his life. It was a life well lived. We should tarry awhile and talk about it. We should party a bit.

Then, we should say goodbye. Alan lived 85 years, a full life. this is a very sad day, but not tragedy. He was consciously ill for less than an hour. He suffered no pain, no suffering.

Finally, we should take something away about Alan from this funeral experience

And my takeaway about Alan is, he did GOOD. He did REAL GOOD. Alan did G-ds work here in this world.

He administered relief and succor to the afflicted.

He reduced and or removed a person’s pain

He sealed the sick.

He saved lives.

Alan helped in the G-dly effort of Tikun Olom, repairing the world……by repairing people

There are not many among us here today of which the same can or will be said.

So the take away is: If you want to make the world more G-dly, do more of G-d s work in this world. Thats whats Alan did.

The tale is told, and I must say goodbye to my friend.

Alan … LECH L’SHALOM,

Go in peace. We shall miss you

Go in peace, Alan. We are O.K. here.

LECH L’SHALOM, my friend Alan, ……go in peace, it was a life well lived and well done. Go in peace.