A true gentleman

Remembering Alexander Zvielli.

Alexander Zvielli (photo credit: MARC ISRAEL SELLEM/THE JERUSALEM POST)
Alexander Zvielli
(photo credit: MARC ISRAEL SELLEM/THE JERUSALEM POST)
Your son and daughter, grandchildren and great-grandchildren spoke so beautifully at your funeral on Jerusalem’s Har Hamenuhot Wednesday about what a gentle giant you were.
You started here as an immigrant from Poland with nothing, married the woman of your dreams, created a wonderful family and loved your job as chief archivist at The Jerusalem Post, where you worked for more than 70 years, which is surely a record.
Your daily column, “From Our Archives,” even appeared in the paper a day after you left us last week on Israel’s 69th Independence Day, almost two weeks after celebrating your 96th birthday on April 19.
You lost the sight in your left eye (and almost your life) in the explosion at The Palestine Post office on February 1, 1948. But nothing deterred you. The paper came out the next day, and you continued to work diligently right until the end, faithfully chronicling what happened “on this day,” 10, 25 and 50 years ago. With your phenomenal memory, you could actually recall in perfect detail the events you wrote about.
You were a true gentleman who made us all feel calm during hard times, because no matter how bad things got, you remembered them being worse; and no matter how good things were, you remembered them being better.
You were a real mensch who treasured your family and friends, colleagues and personal assistant, Israel and the Jewish people, The Jerusalem Post and history, writing and reading – and your life.
You were a superb storyteller who lived an incredible life. But you were humble and kind, you never lost the plot, you had a strong sense of justice, and you were perennially thankful. You were blessed with a good and long life, and those of us fortunate to have known you and read your column every day were blessed, too. Your life and legacy are an inspiration to us all.
Just as you never forgot, so will we remember you! With love and gratitude, Steve