Arthur Charles Goren

Arthur Charles Goren was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on September 6th, 1923. A second twin, weighing in at only 2.25 pounds, Art considered himself, “the left-over twin.” His chances of survival were close to nil, and the doctor wanted to throw him away. But his mother, Rose, would not permit it.

Shortly after birth, he and his family moved to Chicago Illinois. In 1943, during World War II, Art and his twin brother, Ed, served honorably in the United States Army Signal Corps (USASC), a division of the Department of the Army that creates and manages communications and information systems for the command and control of combined arms forces. From 1943-1945, Art served in England and Italy, while Ed was stationed in England and Germany. Art commented that in those days, twins were considered miracles and had a special place in people’s hearts. Perhaps that is why the army often kept them together, on safe assignments. After discharge, the Montgomery G.I. Bill for returning World War II veterans was a godsend. The bill helped veterans transition from combat to careers. Using these benefits, Art received his Bachelor of Arts degree in politics from Roosevelt University in Chicago. He worked in sales and marketing all over the Midwest for 27 years.

Art always noted his humble beginnings. As he and his family survived the Great Depression, he recognized what is important in life. In the 1980s, he retired and moved to California to be near his three brothers. Later, he and Ed moved to Laguna Woods and lived there for the remainder of their lives. Their bond was unbreakable. Daily conversations or get togethers were a must. When Ed passed away nearly a decade ago, Art endured and adapted. He kept Ed’s ashes in a simple adobe urn, adorned with Ed’s photo, next to his bed.

Art’s interests included politics, history, music, and cars. He was impressive not only in his awareness of current affairs, but his liberal views on the significant role governments ought to play in caring for their people. His favorite way of starting conversations was: “Listen…”, and then he would impress you with all that he had to say, and he had much to say. He was worldly and acutely aware of the responsibility we all have in helping the underprivileged. His silence now is almost impossible to comprehend.

Art pursued his life-long hobby of photography and joined the photography club in his community. His work was recognized by his peers as outstanding. Like most serious photographers, he resisted the transition from chemical to digital photography, but ultimately made the switch. He was 90 years old! Art was also an avid traveler. On his trips, he photographed the stark essence of a barn wall, a door, couple of windows, a cave, simple sand mounds, or the close-up intimacy of a wrinkled face. He artfully captured colors, shadows, rusty farm equipment, and broken things. In the quiet of Art’s room, you do not sense emptiness. You are welcomed by the silent rank of hundreds of his large photos leaning against his walls. It is as though they are rows of soldiers standing tall: proudly saluting this soldier’s life. Art’s avid curiosity was impressive. With his glasses slipping down the slope of his nose, he learned how to use computers. That was a dangerous thing. He used computers as a weapon not only for gaining access to world politics and the news, but also to edit his digital images. He was done with chemicals and dark rooms and started to depict magic with his mouse instead. That led to many frantic late at night phone calls, where he adamantly claimed that the internet had disappeared having taken all his photos.

Art was giving to his family and friends. A spit fire at times, he was always quick to correct course and do what was right and fair. He took special joy in hosting his annual birthday parties at Sam Woo which included his family members and closest friends. Duck drumsticks were his favorite. Art relished these reunions.

His appreciation for music was magnificent. In typical Art-like fashion, everything would be large. His music would be played at a high volume on his most beloved record player that no one was permitted to touch and on his holier-than-thou giant Altec-Lansing speakers that were precisely placed within millimeters for maximum stereo effect. His competition with his brothers on who had the highest mastery of classical music and the best audio equipment was a life cause, not just for Art, but Marvin, Ed, and even Dan. At any point, his eclectically filled home would be colored with orchestral arrangements of classical composers. Bach was Art’s Sunday morning companion - - along with bacon and eggs.

In his later years, as he struggled with his health, Art proved himself to be a fighter once again. His sharp wit brought joy and tears to many of us who were around him at the end. Through the last few years, he surprised us with miraculous recoveries from many of his medical battles. Upon discharge from the hospital, he still insisted on immediate outings for food. He wanted to walk to the next sushi place, the corned beef sandwich shop in Long beach, or the nearest El Pollo Loco. It did not matter that all of us would have to walk alongside of him at a snail pace. He paused every two minutes, started new topics of conversation, and took a breath. As he took an hour crossing the parking lot with his walker, we walked beside him. Later, when travelling would be a challenge, he made us promise that we would go out to BJs for ribs. He never got well enough to go, but he imagined that he did. He asked later: “Wasn’t that a wonderful meal?”

Art was a joy to be with, and he was very particular about dictating the precise steps required for every task. Heating up hot water on the stove for shaving was an absolute must. He was a conductor, through and through. As the left-over twin, he beat the odds and became the man that everyone would remember for his wit and his care for others. To say that Art will be missed is an understatement. He may have begun at 2.25 pounds and ended at barely 5 feet tall, but he was a man we all looked up to and cherished.

Art you were beloved and irreplaceable.