Remembering Harvey Greenspan, z"l
“Can’t complain,” was Harvey’s natural refrain whenever we ran into one another at the kosher mart.
I always left the store feeling uplifted after having a casual conversation with an old-time friend from our days in Elizabeth, New Jersey.
Harvey’s younger brother, Phil, was my husband’s college roommate after Phil and Arnee were in school together in Elizabeth from 9th through 12th grade. In Miss O’Sullivan’s French class at Hamilton Junior High School in Elizabeth, they took French names. Someone selected Phillippe, which would have been the natural name for Phillip, so Phil took the name Jean Phillippe. Arnee gave him the nickname JP, and it’s the only name our children know him by.
On Saturday, Mar 21, 10:29 PM, a shocking email arrived from JP.
“Writing to let u know that Harvey passed away this Shabbos.”
The following morning, before we left for the funeral, a Facebook post appeared. Harvey’s son-in-law wrote the touching words.
On March 22 at 10:54 AM, David Veltman wrote:
ברוך דיין האמת
We are completely heartbroken to share the passing of our beloved father and grandfather, and father in law Harvey — צבי אריה.
There are no words that really capture what this loss feels like.
He wasn’t someone who spoke about who he was he just was. He showed up. Again and again. Always asking what he could do, how he could help, how he could make things easier for someone else. Watching the kids, helping for Yom Tov, bringing food he knew people loved from Kushner it didn’t matter what it was. If he could help, he was there.
“It’s part of life,” he would say.
“Never a problem.”
That was him. No matter what was going on, no matter what was needed, he carried it with calm, with strength, and with a willingness to give of himself without hesitation.
He was our constant. The one we could always rely on. The one who made sure everything was taken care of, even before we realized we needed it.
And nothing in the world meant more to him than his grandchildren. The way he held them, played with them, lit up just hearing their voices that was his whole world.
His name, צבי אריה Tzvi Aryeh feels so fitting now. Like a deer, he was gentle, thoughtful, always quick to run and do for others. And like a lion, he had a quiet strength a presence you could lean on, a strength that held all of us up.
In Parshas Vayikra we learn that what matters most is what comes from the heart, even if no one sees it. And in Parshas Tzav, we’re told about the “eish tamid” אש תמיד תוקד על המזבח לא תכבה a fire that never goes out.
That’s what he was. A constant fire. Quiet, steady, always there. Always giving.
We don’t know how to imagine life without him.
We just know how much he gave us, how much he loved us, and how much we’re going to miss him.
“It’s part of life.”
“Never a problem.”
יהי זכרו ברוך
After reading David’s post, I responded, “No truer words were ever spoken. That was our friend Harvey.”
With that, we were off to attend our friend’s funeral. Sadly, his only sibling, his younger brother, JP, could not make a timely flight. Thus, he permitted the rabbi to conduct the funeral without him being present. We briefed him right after to tell him that about 75 people from the community attended the funeral.
Although no eulogy was allowed, as it was in the month of Nissan, kind words were spoken. Harvey, a businessman in the Real Estate industry, was also a mashgiach - a Jewish dietary supervisor, and well-known in the community.
JP arrived at his brother’s house in West Orange in time for the shiva period of mourning. We visited several times that week. On one of those visits, he told us that he and Harvey never fought. His beloved older brother was 79.
Harvey was a devoted father of triplets.
His daughter, Cara, is named for Harvey and Phil’s mother, Clara. Cara, petite in stature, like her grandmother, has her grandmother’s endearing personality.
When JP’s son, Cara’s cousin, Daniel, was born, we were at his bris at Clara’s apartment in Elizabeth. She had no bassinet or crib, so she laughed as she made do, pulling out a dresser drawer for the baby to nap in.
Harvey’s daughter Arielle, at the house when her father called for help as he was having trouble breathing, said that her father died the way he would have wanted to. She said he worked the day before, and he woke up and called for his wife and daughter to get emergency help. By the time the ambulance workers arrived, he had lost consciousness and could not be revived.
Evan, Harvey and Nina’s son, has special needs, and there could be no one more devoted to his care.
Arnee and I visited Harvey and JP’s father in a home for the aged, shortly before his death, noticing on the table where he sat, his siddur and tefillin under his watchful eye.
With that legacy, we always appreciated having Harvey as our private mashgiach at events at our house. His response to our 50th anniversary invite was that he “wouldn’t have missed it, we go back so many years.” That’s about 60 years for my husband and about 55 for me. His reaction gave me a warm-all-over feeling.
Typical of Harvey, we never had to ask, he offered. Having recently lost Arnee’s brother, Bryan, Harvey offered to say kaddish for him. We took him up on that kind offer and sent him a check, which he immediately turned over to charity. This week is the yahrzeit of Bryan’s passing, and sadly, Harvey didn’t live to fulfill the entire kaddish period. Another friend had someone take on the responsibility for which we are forever grateful.
Rest in peace our dear friend. You deserve a special place in Gan Eden. I’ll think of you every time I walk into the West Orange kosher mart. The last time I was there, I was wondering if I was going to see you in one of the aisles. Maybe, instead, you’ve met up with Bryan.
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An article I wrote in the Jewish Link mentions Harvey. See Another Pleasant Valley…Shabbos, dated October 29, 2015.
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In a subsequent conversation with Harvey’s wife, Nina, on June 10, 2026, we discovered just how much we have in common. Nina is one month younger and we were in the same class year at Rutgers Newark, and, like me, she has an MPA from NYU.
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A version of this blog post appeared on July 16, 2026 in The Jewish Link newspaper, where I am a writer on staff.