Plant a tree in memory of Victor
An environmentally friendly option
Loading...
M
Mark Rubin posted a condolence
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Victor Ray Rubin was a great uncle to me, since Gene Rubin was my grandfather, Larry Rubin my dad. The times I was with Uncle Vic were only a handful. Nevertheless, he and Aunt Ginnie were always favorites to visit because of their kindness and gentleness. Uncle Vic was always a delight to visit. Several times when we visited in North Fort Myers, I would ride Grandma or Grandpa's tricycle over to Uncle Vics to stop in and say hi. It was ALWAYS a pleasant time with both of them. I sincerely thank my God and Savior for family like Uncle Vic that cared about family, even if we weren't all that close geographically or relationally. God blessed our lives through Uncle Vic's kindness and jovial nature. He had a wonderful smile.
J
Jeff Rubin posted a condolence
Thursday, August 29, 2013
(Paraphrased from a story told after the service)
Jeff was hunting with his dad Chet, Uncle Vic, and others when a rabbit went running by. He shot at the rabbit a handful of times, and it ran off unscathed. Vic walked over to him with a few of the shells he had just fired, which happened to have landed a few feet away from him and very calmly noted that he may want to watch where he's shooting next time. He never raised his voice.
P
Patricia Cramer posted a condolence
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Vic Rubin, "MY DAD", a man of great honor and integrity, a good provider, loving and patient, a little shy and the best Dad ever. A couple months ago I remember telling him that if we got the chance to go around this world again, I would want to come back with him as "MY DAD". He even smiled and said he would take me back too. Our family meant everything to him and he showed his unending love to all of us daily.
There are so many wonderful stories to tell, but these are a few of my favorites that are close to my heart:
At age five, I remember evenings spent sitting in our kitchen on Pierce Hill Road, coloring in my book, while Dad pounded in the studs forming the rooms and hanging sheet rock, building the house that I would grow up in. This was all after he had already worked a full day at IBM and I can only imagine how tired he must have been, but it was important to him to build our home! He was a very hard worker and always put forth a 100% no matter what the project was.
Having three girls, no boys, never seemed to bother him with the exception of hunting season. I remember one day he ask me if I would like to shoot his shot gun and I said yes, so he took me up to the woods to try. I shot the gun, it didn't bother me and I know it made him happy. However, when I told him I couldn't possible shot and kill any animal, that ended my lesson and any hopes he had of me accompanying him on his many hunting trips.
We loved our fire place in the living room and made many fires over the winters. Dad and I traveled to PA on many occasions to buy firewood and I used to enjoy that time we spent together, just us. We would fill our station wagon full of wood and it would smell so good, but I always worried about spiders crawling on me coming from the wood. He told me not to worry as I was bigger than they were, but somehow that didn't really help and I prayed the trip home would go fast. I hate spiders.
We rode bikes, boated, fished, went swimming, vacationed in fun places together and it was always a happy experience. Dad even taught me to drive with a great deal of patience. That back field behind our house was the practice area and he told me more than once to hit the brakes as the woods were coming closer and closer. I remember telling him, I didn't want to throw us through the windshield, but he told me there was a time to act quickly and hit the brakes NOW and all without raising his voice. He truly had an abundance of patience.
Dad was plagued with any health issues over the years and through it all, he just never complained and had a smile on his face each day; giving in wasn't an option. I sat with him through the many surgeries and recoveries he had and by his side was the only place I could be when he went to be with our Lord. I don't know how I will learn to live without him; our daily conversations on the telephone, the joking back and forth, that cute little smirk that he got on his face, but I do know he lives in my heart and the love we share will last until we meet again. We will meet and it will be a wonderful reunion!
God Bless You Dad, you have more than earned your wings, may you rest in peace. I will love you always!
You are after all "MY DAD"!
Your #1 Daughter (you always loved me best, right ?!!!)
V
Vickie Rae Rubin Jacobson posted a condolence
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
My memories of dad. One of my earliest memories of dad was of how hard he worked. Mom used to do private duty nursing. Most of her cases were at night, so she could be home days to take care of us. Dad would take care of us most evenings. I remember stories being read around the fireplace in the living room with him sitting in the chair smoking a cherry pipe. When I became school age, I started coming home with home work. I loved History and reading and English. But math was a different story. Dad would sit down with me every single night and go over my home work with me and spend hours drilling me on my times table and helping me learn division. He was always patient and never got angry at me for going over the same thing over and over. To this day I hate math but it is because of him that I passed any of my math courses. He always had time for me, night after night. He may have put in a long day of 8 hours plus overtime but he never was too tired to give me extra help each night.
Dad always had chores on his minds. Always fixing or painting or making something better. Projects were always brewing in his brain. I think I have that in me also. I can look at something and think I can fix that or make it better. Of course I don’t have his carpentry skills so that is where I have to have my husband or hire somebody to do it. But he had a great mind for looking at something and knowing how to make it better or improve on it. We all spent many enjoyable hours working with him at the lake or at home. We had window washing spring and fall. This would be an all day family event. We would have an inspection of that window and most times it did not pass the mustard. We would be instructed to do that window again. He was always pouring cement. We poured sidewalks, driveways, steps, retaining walls and even docks at the lake. We poured so much cement that he and Uncle Gene bought their own cement mixer. Ah what a happy day that was for them!
He built garages and put a new kitchen and bath in at the lake. Always fixing and improving things for the family. As a child, I remember going with him and Uncle Gene to “Monkey Wards�. The proper name was Montgomery Ward’s Dept store. But we would go up and stroll through the tool department and all around the store and he would look over all the new tools he might like. Later in life, my first full time job was at Montgomery Ward’s, in the Credit department. And to dad and Uncle Gene’s delight, I got a 20% employee discount. Oh, what a happy day that was for them. I purchased kitchen cabinets, appliances and even furniture with that discount. Tires and clothing and anything you can think of. This new discount really got his mind going. The Rubin boys loved a deal!
He was one of the fairest and most honest people I know. He was quiet and sensitive and would sometimes think days about something before he would comment on it. But you could always know that whatever his comment would be, it would be worth the wait.
When we were young, Grandma and Grandpa Rubin would stay with us every summer. Becky and I did not like getting up on summer vacation. We wanted to sleep in. Dad always had a chore list on the kitchen table waiting for us. And he would usually call us early, to make sure we were up and doing our chores. This one Monday morning, he had instructed us to take the garbage down to the road before the garbage men came. Well, we never got up and slept in. The phone began to ring and he was calling to see if we were up and working on our chores. He asked if the garbage was out. We said no! Dad asked to speak with Grandpa. We handed the phone to grandpa, and we heard grandpa say, don’t worry Vic they will take care of it. Grandpa got off the phone, and said for us to get dressed. When we came down, he had his straw hat on, a lawn chair and a cold drink in his hands. He handed us a pick and a shovel and we followed him up over the hill carrying the garbage. It was probably 95 degrees in the shade and the middle of July. The ground was hard as a rock. Grandpa instructed us to start digging! He said your dad wants you to bury the Garbage! It was a huge job. And grandma Rubin was sure were going to have heat stroke! But grandpa just sat their sipping his cold drink and watching every shovel of dirt coming out of the ground. Becky and I never missed getting up on garbage day again! Lesson learned!
I remember as a young girl, dad had a friend Ken he worked with at IBM. Ken was dying with cancer. Dad would make a weekly visit to see him and we would tag along also. Ken enjoyed seeing us girls and we would bring a small smile to his face. At the end he was too sick for us to go in his room, so we would sit in the living room and talk with him through the wall. Dad was always a faithful friend. When Aunt Stella had one of her many strokes, I remember dad asking me if I would be willing to help her out in the summer time by staying with her. I stayed with her on a couple of occasions. And later when she went to the nursing home in Owego, Dad would make at least 2 trips a week to visit her. Grandma and Grandpa Rubin also ended up in the same nursing home. When mom and dad would go away on vacation or back to Ohio for a visit, I would make those trips for him to the nursing home. The last trip Aunt Stella made out of the nursing home was the week before she died. Pat and I had gone to visit her on New Year’s Day. We always asked her to come home for Sunday Dinner and she always said no. This particular Sunday, she said yes. We had a wonderful day with her and she was so happy to be with us all. It was the next week that she passed away. These trips visiting loved ones, was something I learned from my father. He was always the faithful and devoted husband, father, brother and son. With him, family came first always. No matter what it took, you stick by family through thick and thin. I learned compassion and understanding from dad.
One of the last things I learned from dad was this; He made each one of us feel very special. He loved us all equally and we each wanted to think that we were his favorite. Dad had no favorite. We were all his favorites, just in different ways. He knew how to bring out the best in all of us. He made all of us better human beings for having lived. He was the peace maker with the entire family. Not just his siblings but his daughters as well. Victor Rubin had 3 daughters and loved each of us equally! I know this with all my heart.
I was born on Grandma Rubin’s birthday. February 7th. Her name was Jeanette. When I was a little girl, I always thought I should have been name for her. But it took me many years to realize that the biggest honor of all was given to me. I was named for dad. Vickie Rae Rubin. And I know of no bigger honor than this, to carry his name. They are big shoes to fill, but I am trying. Sleep well K-P Papa. Till we meet again, we love you!
Your loving daughter,
Vickie Rae Rubin Jacobson
P
Peter Peguero posted a condolence
Friday, August 23, 2013
Mr. Rubin was one of the finest individuals I have ever known. Thank you Mr. Rubin for the springs, summers, and falls on Chaumont Bay. Some of the finest memories of my life were from being up there. Hauling stones out of the lake to fill the walls of your new docks. Playing with "Duke" and "Ladybug". Learning how to fish and understanding the beauty and the power of lake Onterio.
B
Becky Rubin King posted a condolence
Friday, August 23, 2013
My father was Victor Rubin. He was an avid outdoors man loving hunting and fishing. He always wanted a son, but instead got 3 daughters. Having said that, there could not have been a better father. He truly loved his daughters.
At an early age I remember Vickie and I riding on his back while he was on all 4's running around the living room floor pretending to be a horse with all the sound effects. We would giggle like crazy. I also remember laying on his back while he steered the sled coming down off the hill in the snow. He was always there to entertain us.
Mom and Dad had a cottage on Lake Onterio. He loved building campfires. Many weekends we sat around the camp fire talking and having a great time. We also did a lot of boating, swimming, and fishing. Dad used to love to boat over to Uncle Genes also on Onterio.
Dad and Mom built their home on Pierce Hill Road. It was a great place to grow up. It was rural with woods, hills and a creek near by. I got my love of nature and the great outdoors from dad.
ad taught all three of us to drive. I started out "learning" to drive the tractor. One day I was driving the tractor and drove it into moms cloths line knocking it over. Then I proceeded to make another circle and drove over the dog chain which got caught in the mower. Guess my license to drive should have been revoked, but dad, in his patient way was always there to make things right. Our cloths line looked like was for midgets after that. Mom had to stoop to use it! When we were learning to drive the car he took each of us up in the field behind their house to practice before going on the road. When we bought a Fiat which was stick shift he had to teach Vickie and I how to use it. Sometimes I would let it roll backwards. He never got upset and was very patient. He told me not to worry about it.
After mom and dad moved to Florida, they would spend time with us every summer. When dad was at our house, he always had a project. He changed decking boards that were cracked. He put in a faucet in the front of our house. He painted registers. He built a tree house with Geoff and Greg. Mowed the lawn with the tractor. He was always busy.
Mom and Dad went on a lot of trips with us and we spent some time with them in Florida. We went on boating trips, a couple of trips out west and trips to our Oneida Lake home. Dad went with us on two different rafting trips on the Colorado an Arkansas rivers. I have many fond memories!
He was a source of strength and inspiration. His arthritis really slowed him down at an early age, but he never let it stop him. He had both hips replace 2X's. In later years he got pulmonary fibrosis and aortic stenosis. Shortly after diagnosis he had a heart attack and the Drs. suggested hospice. Dad was not ready for that. He spent another 7+ years not giving up. At one point I wanted him to use a seat lift chair. He was having none of that. "I will get up on my own power." He struggled and got up on his own. He was not a quitter.
I loved and admired Dad. He was a man that loved and supported his family in every way. He was patient and kind and a very hard worker. He gave up the final fight on August 2, 2013. He will be sorely missed but never forgotten.
His loving daughter,
Becky Rubin King
G
Greg King posted a condolence
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Victor Ray Rubin
To some he was a loving father or husband. To others he was a devoted brother, uncle, or cousin. To me, he was always Papa (sometimes KP Papa for always illustrating the discipline to keep a clean kitchen). I never really understood why one grandfather was referred to something completely different than any other, although, I never questioned it either. I believe it all started with the first grand-daughter, Sandi, enunciating “Papa� as a toddler. Regardless, he was Papa to all the grandkids and that’s just the way it was.
Papa often wore a hat, shirts with pockets, and of course the renowned yellow sweater! Back when tires had white-walls, grandkids were always around to ensure their impeccable shine. Lawns were constantly kept short, mostly with John the Deere. Breakfast was always bright and early in his house, just ask Grandma about the sounds of cooking in the early morning!
Papa was sometimes known as a thrifty man, well perceiving the value of any given transaction. I can remember riding with him to a certain marina in Owego, NY to service the infamous 15 HP Johnson engine that still sits on the back of the S.S. Papa (14’ aluminum boat) to this day. They charged him $90, in what must have been the early 1990’s, to start the “little engine that could� in a pool of water. That was all they did, nothing more, nothing less. After we retrieved the engine, carefully placing in the back of the trusted Mercury Grand Marque, the initiation of steam from his cranium on that quiet journey home was immeasurable. I later learned that his anger wasn’t derived from being $90 poorer, but rather, a breach of an unwritten moral contract. Hard work, diligence, and honesty were important character traits to Papa, and living by these standards fostered a much more fulfilling and complete existence.
Of all the lessons he taught me and memories we shared, loyalty is one of the most prominent traits he left behind. He was a loyal man, first and foremost. To his wife, his kids, and all of his extended family and friends, nothing could stop him being the most empathetic and humble person. While he was not a man of many words, he demonstrated endless love for those around him.
Papa will be remembered, now and forever. Somewhere up there in heaven is a place where the deck needs painting, the vanilla cookies and pretzels are plentiful, and the fish are waiting at the end of the dock. Until the day we all depart for our own visit, I’m certain he is in good hands, reunited with family and friends, transformed into the miraculous rays of the sun. As one life ends, another always begins, and on goes the beautiful, and sometimes mysterious, circle of life.
K
Karen Dragon posted a condolence
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
My name is Karen Dragon (formerly Karen Cramer, Pat's youngest) and I can say that I have been blessed to know Victor Rubin. He is the only Grandfather that I have memories of and I have to say that I have a lifetime of memories that I am proud to share with my children.
Those memories are filled with laughter and love, life savers and pop-corn. Papa may have been a Snickers man later in life, but when we were little he was never found without cherry or butter rum lifesavers. If there wasn't a roll in his pocket there was definitely one in the glove compartment of the car. And who could refuse his popcorn?! The more salt and butter the better!! If he wasn't serving up Popcorn he was the "Toastmaster" sitting at the chair at the end of the table at the lake making toast for everyone.
So many of my memories revolve around the lake. It is a location that will always hold a special place in my heart and one that I strive to share with my kids as we visit the lakes of NY every summer! The "big" boat will always be huge in my memories and the "little" boat will always be green and white on the outside and baby blue on the inside!
Like Geoff, my first driving experience was with Papa. I didn't start in the field across the street from the lake however. We were at the lake, but we were driving to Uncle Gene's cottage. Papa drove to the dirt road that Uncle Gene's cottage was on. He pulled over to the side of the road and had me drive the car down the dirt road to Uncle Gene's. I can still see the look on Uncle Gene's face as he walked up to the car and saw me behind the wheel. He was more than a bit surprised! :)
In recent years I have been very blessed to share my grandparents with my three children. All three kids have wonderful memories of riding papa's tractor in Endicott or fishing in the "little" boat. Wyatt loved to sit in a chair with Papa and watch TV or just hang out.
Our lives have all been made better for having known this kind man who was full of laughter and love. He will be greatly missed!
J
Jenny Bittner posted a condolence
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Like Geoff I have so many wonderful memories of Papa and I also thought of him as "larger than life".
One summer when I was young the Kings, Jacobsons and Papa and Grandma all rented a cabin somewhere in Ontario. I was fishing by myself on the dock and caught a pan fish. The hook was lodged in the fish's lip and I couldn't get it out so I took it back to the cabin. Since Papa was an early riser, he was up and able to take the hook out of the fish. He then threw the fish from the cabin into the lake. At the time they seemed like they were a mile apart, but the fish landed in the lake ( a little shell shocked I'm sure) and I thought to myself, "Papa must be the strongest man in the world!"
That is how I remember Papa. We will always love and adore him!
L
Larry Rubin posted a condolence
Sunday, August 18, 2013
It is a sad day indeed that my Uncle Vic has passed away. Memories abound of doing a myriad of fun things with my Uncle Vic starting way back when I was only about 4 years old. Soon after WW II, Uncle Vic was released from the Marine Corps and was living with us in Apalachin. One day, he decided to tie me up to a tree, ( for the experience, in case some neighbor kids got me, I guess), then left me tied up for 12 or 15 minutes before un-tieing me. ( I suspect my Mom gave him some urgent commands), but I learned a bit of 'patience' that day.
Shortly, Uncle Vic was hired on with the IBM CO. For many months, he worked the swing shift and would return home shortly after 11 P.M. As we shared the same bed, I could count on Uncle Vic jumping in bed before mid-nite and thus saving me from all the gremlins in the pitch black room.
A few years later, Uncle Vic was starting to build his 'dream home' up Pierce Hill road. In the early stages, one Saturday morning, the guys were going to slide a 20+ foot long 'iron- I beam' across the span of the foundation, Probably a dozen or more men were there but they also had an old, orange Alice Chambers tractor to do most of the pulling on the beam. Just as they were about to start pulling with the tractor, I remember Uncle Vic slyly remarking that " if Alice can't do it, we might have to go get John". ( John Deere ).
Scores of hunting episodes abound with Uncle Vic, Chet, Shorty and my dad. Before I was of legal age to hunt, I was with Uncle Vic one snowy day down in the Catskills north of Hancock. We were deer hunting and I elected to tag along after Uncle Vic. -It's tough to be as quiet as the guy in front but I did my best and was cautioned only a couple of times to walk quieter. I was slowly learning. Presently, Uncle Vic needed to go to the 'bath-room', so he handed me his hunting rifle. He insreucted me that if I saw a buck to 'knock him down'. He returned after several minutes and thanked me for holding his rifle and being vigilant for him.
Uncle Vic had a multitude of hunting hounds, mostly all beagles. One in particular was a vigorous hunting pup named Peggy. She was mostly white with scores of small black spots all over her body. While out hunting one brisk Fall day, we heard Peggy give out a sharp 'yip' and quickly came running back to us. When we looked her over, we saw she had sustained a 2 inch long rip in her belly, apparently when an upright barb on the bottom fence wire caught her when she jumped thru the fence. A short hunting excursion evolved that day as we took her to the 'Vet' for several stiches.
Uncle Vic's love for hunting was only surpassed by his love for fishing. Not only did he love fishing but he was pretty wiley at it too. When I was barely a teen, Uncle Vic, Dad and myself were up on the St. Lawrence river, fishing for some cagey northern pike. A good sized 'fish' had taken my bait, which was a small pearch, and was running with it. When he finally stopped to swallow it, Pop told me to set the hook after only 4 or 5 seconds. Uncle Vic said that I had better wait a bit longer to make sure he had swallowed it. Pop prevailed and had me start to craink it in. After only a few seconds of reeling it in, the line went slack as he simply spit the bait out. Uncle Vic had been right; golly, was I ever sad at loosing the big one that day.
In the mid 1950's, we bought our cottage near Three Mile Bay, NY. It came with an older lapstrake wooden boat that needed plenty of TLC. The first time pop mentioned that he wanted to rebuild the old boat, Uncle Vic immediately insisted that we bring it down to his home on Pierce Hill and rebuild it in his basement. Dozens and dozens of hours were spent in an excellent working environment where we seriously completed some major improvements on that ageing 'runabout'. And even though it wasn't Uncle Vic's boat, he volunteered just as much time, energy and expertise as either pop or myself.
Memories are truly made by being with and doing things with the ones we love. What a joy it was to have a splendid Uncle like Vic who willingly shared so much of his time with me as I was growing up. His time spent while serving as a Marine in the south-pacific surely primed his 'spirit of patriotism'. Countless Sundays taking his family to church and hearing God's Work enriched his reliance and belief in God. So even though Uncle Vic was not my father, I would have been very proud if he had been. ---- Like all who knew him, ---- I will miss him too.
Larry Rubin
Arcadia, Florida
G
Geoff King posted a condolence
Friday, August 16, 2013
I have so many great memories of my grandfather that it's hard to do them justice in such a small space. He always seemed a little larger than life, and it’s hard to believe he’s no longer with us. As I reflect on him, here’s a little of what I recall.
He shared his cottage on Lake Ontario with all of our family and friends, and provided me with some of my first vivid memories of boating, swimming, fishing, and family (and falling out of bunk beds).
He drove me and my grandmother across country when I was only 8; showing me Mt. Rushmore, a hog farm, and the Pro Football Hall of Fame (and dragging me out of bed early every morning, making sure I went and warshed up properly).
He took me fishing in parts of Quebec that are more remote than anywhere I’ve been since (and helped me catch that giant walleye that actually didn’t get away).
He built a tree house with my Dad in our backyard that was the envy of the neighborhood (though slightly less impressive than the house he built on Pierce Hill Road).
He was the first to let me drive a car, in a field behind his cottage, long before I could legally do so (“easy on that gas pedal� is still good advice that I don’t always follow).
His never ending search for the next task that needed to be completed was both helpful and exhausting (unmowed lawns and unpainted sheds were never safe from his reach, and helpers were always needed, even if I thought I had better things to do).
His will to live was inspiring, and the perseverance and dignity he showed in handling so much physical adversity and limitation in his later years was nothing short of miraculous (multiple doctors gave him little chance of making it to 90).
He was soft spoken and listened thoughtfully before engaging in conversation; but his wisdom, modesty, and dry sense of humor were almost always worth waiting for (even if you were the victim of a well timed zinger, which he could still deliver till the very end).
He was and is my Papa, and I’m so much richer for having known and loved him.
Celebrating Over 135 Years of Serving our Families
HOME | ABOUT US | FUNERAL PLANNING | PRE-PLANNING | RESOURCES | FAQ
