Milly Selinger

Milly Selinger was a fiercely dedicated mother and nana. A survivor, she escaped communist Romania with her brother Harry and her parents in 1951 and found a new life in Israel, before ultimately settling in Fort Lee, New Jersey. She was a woman of long term commitment — whether that meant being the first person to live in her building, where she spent most of her life before going to live with her daughter in Queens, having one single job over the entirety of her career — a career that only ended because her boss was retiring (news that she, at 85, did not take well), or using the same one grater she brought with her from Israel to grate potatoes with for her famous latkes, which, along with cigarette ash, gave them their distinct flavor and crispness. She was instantly recognizable, a shock of bright red, perfectly coiffed hair, outfits that looked like a million bucks even though they were likely $39 from Fox’s, expertly applied makeup that was never out of place, and most importantly the long, chic cigarette that was glued between her two front fingers. Cigarettes that would end up giving her such a tiny speck of cancer in her 80s, the doctors couldn’t even reach it with their fancy computerized tools. That’s the kind of woman she was, defying the odds, the epitome of strength in the face of adversity. Our nana, our mama. She is gone but with a presence so large, regardless of small size in stature, she could never be forgotten. She is survived by and dearly missed by her daughter, Samantha Selinger Feldman, and her granddaughter, Jamie Feldman.