Thank you, Father Curley. On behalf of our entire family—our
grandmother, Geneva, our great-aunt Helen, our parents, spouses and children—we
wanted to first thank you all for coming today to honor our grandfather’s life,
and to thank you so much for your support during this difficult time. It is an honor for us to have a chance to
speak about his long and productive life.
Julius was part of the
generation that built what we know as modern America. He was born on June 7, 1918 to Polish
immigrants Stanley and Mary (Noga) Sozanski, who had immigrated from their
respective homelands in Eastern Europe while still in their early 20s. Stanley and Mary became part of the thriving
Polish community that was centered around downtown Salem at the time. For decades they and their neighbors worked
hard at the local mills, bleacheries, tanneries, and factories. Those of us in the generations that have
followed owe them an enormous debt of gratitude for the lives of plenty and
opportunity that we lead today, lives that would have surpassed anything that
Stanley and Mary could have possibly imagined.
Although the family’s life was
one of hard work and few luxuries, Julius remembered many good times; swimming
near the factory where his father worked, fishing with his cousins, playing
football and baseball, sneaking into Boston to see his beloved Boston Braves
play.
Julius was Stanley and Mary’s
only child, though he was fortunate to be raised close to his extended
family. His mother’s two sisters also
each had one son, and his cousins were like brothers to him. And it was the death of his dear cousins at a
young age—one from a football injury, another from an infection that might
easily have been cured after penicillin became available—which lead Julius to
pursue his lifelong vocation as a physician.
You can imagine that the path
to college and medical school was not an easy one for a young man of Julius’
working class background. But in so many
ways, the lessons he learned from his parents and his community, and the early
losses he suffered, gave him the greatest gifts of all: a work ethic,
self-discipline, and sense of purpose that we have yet to see equaled by anyone
else.
Julius graduated from Peabody
High School and went on to attend St. Anselm’s College in New Hampshire. He graduated from from St. A’s in 1939, and
then from Loyola University of Chicago School of Medicine in 1942. He did residencies in Springfield and in
White Plains, NY. And of course, there
was the War. Like so many veterans of
World War II, Julius never spoke about that period in much detail. We know that he served in the US Army Air
Corps Medical Corps, that he did his training in Georgia and was stationed in
the Pacific. After the war he continued to serve in the Air Force and was
honorably discharged in 1953.
In 1939, Julius met Geneva
Furtak, a local Polish girl, at a friend’s wedding. This marked the beginning
of the most important relationship in his life, one that would last for over 70
years. They were married in 1947, and
had 2 sons, Stanley and Stephen. In
1953, the family left Eglin Air Force Base and settled into their multi-family
home at 538 Eastern Avenue. Soon they
were joined by Geneva’s parents, Anthony and Polly, on the second floor, and
later on the third floor by the Geneva’s sister Helen, her husband Daniel, and
their sons Danny and David. Not long
after, Julius acquired the property next door at 542 Eastern Ave, which is
where additional family members would come to live and is where he built his
ophthalmology practice. For nearly 60
years, Eastern Ave has been central to our extended family’s life.
When our fathers and their
cousins were growing up on Eastern Ave, you can imagine the constant bustle of
activity in their multi-generational house, always yelling up and down the
stairs in Polish and English, always food on the stove, always someone to play
with or talk to. “Pop” or “Unc” was
tireless, using his free time to do home improvements for himself and
relatives, tending to his tomatoes, coaching hockey and little league. Going out on their boat, the SS Gen, named
for our grandmother, pulling in lobsters and fishing. Ballgames on the radio, cookouts and swimming
in the backyard. Family vacations to
Lake Attitash in Amesbury, and later to Dennisport on Cape Cod and later still
to Boothbay Harbor, Maine, where the walkway to the boat heading to Cabbage
Island—Julius and Geneva’s favorite destination-- bears a brick with the Sozanski name.
Dr. Sozanski practiced
ophthalmology for 57 years, seeing patients at his office next door to the family’s
home, and acting as Chief of Ophthalmology at both Lynn Hospital and Union
Hospital. He loved his profession, and
continued to read medical journals, attend seminars, and meet with former
colleagues until he was in his late eighties.
He was part of numerous professional organizations and received numerous
honors and awards for his exemplary work in his field.
Our grandfather was dedicated
to his patients, and no matter where we go we seem to meet someone who got
their care from him. We have all heard
stories from people whose family member’s vision was saved by “The Doc”. Something that most people do not know about
our grandfather, something that neither he nor our grandmother ever mentioned,
was the amount of low cost and charitable care he gave to his patients over the
years. He would regularly provide eye
care to patients who could not afford to pay, taking the small amount a patient
could afford or setting up payment plans of as little as $5 a month. He also used to volunteer each year at the
Danvers State Hospital, providing eye care to all the patients for no money
and, as was his character, for no recognition.
The Doc never became rich from practicing medicine, but he certainly
enriched many lives.
Whether it was the success of
his practice or the happiness of his home, Julius owed so much of what he
achieved to Geneva. She was always there
to pitch in at the office, and was well known and well liked by the patients. She woke early each day, made sure that her
husband had a good breakfast, managed their household, and provided support to
both the elderly and young members of the family who needed her help. In his later years, as his health began to
decline, Geneva was a constant presence by his side, bringing him to his
appointments (and to his weekly coffee with his former colleagues, making sure
he continued to keep up a healthy, active routine for as long as he was
able. And when the time came for Julius
to move on to the next life, after a mercifully brief period of illness, he
waited until a quiet moment when he was alone with Geneva to pass on.
We also want to recognize the
constant support that Julius received from his sister-in-law, Helen
McSweeney. We know Helen will continue
to watch over Geneva, her big sister. We
also know that Julius regarded his late brother-in-law, Attorney Daniel
McSweeney as a brother; the only time we ever saw Julius cry was at Dan’s
funeral 12 years ago. And we are certain
that both Julius and Dan are looking down on us now (probably thinking that we
have gone on too long talking), and that they will continue to watch over the
Geneva, Helen and all of us.
Julius beamed when he spoke of
his sons, Stan and Steve, of their academic and athletic achievement, their
professional work in dentistry, and of the families they went on to raise.
Julius was a man of few
words. He almost never talked about
himself, though he would often inquire how you (or your car, or your neighbor,
or your neighbor’s car) were doing. He
was always concerned about everyone else’s well-being, which he put far ahead
of his own.
There was never a hockey game
too early or too far away for Julius to drive to, never a patient who needed
him that he would not spend time trying to help. He was a man of few words who let his actions
do the talking, whose pleasant smile and occasional humming always put us at
ease. He always showed his love and
commitment through the things he did for others, the extraordinary time, energy
and effort he put forth, the life he led.
The time he devoted to all of us was a gift that no one can ever take
away, and is a great example for all of us of a life well-lived.
