MARSHALL NORSTEIN R.I.P.

When I moved back to Jersey from LA in 1999, I lived with my wife and our toddler in a two-family house in a row of two-family houses whose backyards backed into a branch of the Rahway River. Most of our neighbors had children too, who used the connected backyards like their own private playground which it was. One of our neighbors, Marshall, was the acknowledged overseer of the place.

His day job entailed carrying tons of equipment on the train to Manhattan where he photographed precious artifacts for the catalogues of the big auction houses. But his real vocation was creating new ways for making folks happy. He made a great swing on a giant tree by tying a rope to an arrow and shooting it over the strongest limb then detaching the arrow and attaching a seat he made. He put up a zip line for kids and adults to ride on. He built a smoker for ribs and other meats which we partook of during warm weather when we all sat around his picnic tables and contributed our own dishes to the dinners we shared.

He was always ready to help whoever needed some handy work done. When we threw a surprise birthday party for him we called to say we had a plumbing problem and he came right over with his toolbox and was genuinely moved and surprised. As real estate prices rose and so did our rents, we all dispersed to other neighborhoods, but continued to get together for holidays and hang outs. And Marshall continued altering things for the better, like an old junked Mercedes he fixed to run on cooking oil.

Digital cameras ended his day job, but he got a new one as maintenance man for the local Ethical Culture Center that also supplied a top floor for his family to reside. Last Sunday morning bringing home a bag of bagels for his family, he collapsed and died in the entryway to the building, quick but unexpected, and way too soon.

My heart goes out to his wife, journalist and novelist Elaine Durbach, and son Gabe, and all his family and friends. He will be sorely missed.