Each week, Eric Cherson loaded the family station wagon with trays of meals for MANNA, the Philadelphia program that delivered food to people living with serious illness. His wife, Carol, remembered the planning that went into it — buying a car big enough for the deliveries, setting aside weekends for packing and drop-offs, and watching their young daughter carry bags to apartment doors. “We did it for years” in the ‘90s, she said. “That was Eric. He just wanted to help.”
Cherson, a longtime social worker who spent 38 years supporting students with disabilities and mental health needs, died on Nov. 6 at 77.
He grew up in Mount Vernon, New York. His father, Harry, ran a wholesale produce business and put young Eric’s picture on the side of the company truck — a snapshot the family still has. His mother, Doris, was “a very creative woman,” Carol Cherson said. She kept a lively home and welcomed people from the warehouse for dinner. Cherson often talked about the mix of neighbors, workers and relatives who filled the house. He was bar mitzvahed and raised in a Jewish household he later described as multicultural and full of laughter.
He was especially close to his older half-siblings, Stanley and Lola. “He idolized his brother,” Carol Cherson said. Stanley, a talented baseball player, passed away when Eric was 18, and his father died soon after. “It was a significant loss for him.” said Mollie Recenes, his daughter.
In school, he found his place in the pool. He was a strong competitive swimmer in both high school and college and won recognition in New York state. He graduated from Union College in Schenectady before entering the AmeriCorps VISTA program. He spent two years in rural Ohio, living with a local family and working in a community facing poverty and limited services.
“He talked about that often,” Recenes said. “It was a powerful experience. He learned so much from the people he lived with and worked with.” The placement shaped his decision to pursue social work. “He wanted to do good work,” she said. “He was aligned with helping people who didn’t have the resources they needed.”
Cherson earned his master’s degree at the University of Pennsylvania School of Social Work, drawn to its reputation in policy and disability advocacy in the 1970s.
He spent nearly his entire professional life at the Burlington County Special Services School District in New Jersey. His wife said he viewed the district as a place “that offered so much to kids who would have been passed over.” He built long-term relationships with staff and students, and he became known for his calm presence, deep knowledge and willingness to have difficult conversations on behalf of children.
“He was an advocate,” Recenes said. “He wanted everyone to understand where a kid and their family was coming from.” Even when disagreements arose with administrators, he approached them with patience. “He assumed good intent,” she said. “People respected him for that.”
Carol Cherson said his colleagues continued reaching out after his death: “I’m still hearing from people. They say they learned so much from Eric. He made people stronger in their work.”
When Cherson retired in 2013, he was quickly contacted to help build a new program, Transitions Academy, serving students with school-based anxiety and phobias. He helped shape its early model. His daughter said he brought decades of expertise and connections to a setting designed for students who struggled to attend traditional school.
Jewish life grounded him. For many years, he belonged to Shir Ami in Newtown. He was a regular volunteer and served as the shofar blower on the High Holidays. He participated in food bank projects and community service efforts.
Those commitments grew alongside the life he built with Carol. He met her through a Jewish matchmaker in 1989. They married two years later and lived a life mostly in Morrisville marked by shared routines and mutual support. Carol Cherson described him as gentle, caring and patient. “He took care of everything — the cooking, the gardening, the house. He was nurturing.”
As a father, he was deeply involved with his only child’s life. He sang to Mollie at night, stayed with her through difficult moments, and never missed events. “He was always there,” Recenes said. “He practiced what he preached.” She became a swimmer like her father and followed him into social work. She later lived in Israel for a year of volunteer service — another parallel to her father’s path. “He had such an effect on her,” her mother said.
The qualities he brought to parenting carried into other parts of his life. Roses were his greatest hobby. He kept a well-tended garden throughout his life and studied catalogs for new varieties. He grew 20 to 25 types at one point, sharing plants with family and friends.
“He was very knowledgeable,” Carol Cherson said. “People would call him with questions.”
He continued planting flowers during periods of declining health from a rare blood infection and chronic heart failure.
On the day Cherson died, a single yellow rose bloomed in the yard of close friends who had received the plant from him. It was November — long past rose season. The friend brought the rose to shiva. It was the last flower from a gardener who spent his life tending the things he cared about.
“His legacy lives on,” Recenes said. “The gifts that he’s given others are still living.”
Ellen Braunstein is a freelance writer.