Meet Jennifer Graziano, who, with admirable gusto, has been helping to lead the highly regarded Coxe & Graziano Funeral Home operation through its fourth generation. Notably, the company recently opened a state-of-the-art facility in Greenwich, Connecticut, as part of a bold expansion move. And, of course, it’s business as usual at its flagship in Mamaroneck where, in a separate, adjacent building, Zion Memorial Chapel, the only independent all-Jewish funeral home serving Westchester County, continues to flourish.
We had gotten together to talk about Zion specifically, which is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year and where, according to Jen, who’s also a non-practicing attorney, things are going swimmingly. “We’re right where we want to be at this point in time and we expect to keep growing at a fast clip,” she said with enthusiasm.
Ten minutes into our conversation, I began to feel like a slacker as Jen ticked off what seemed like an endless list of charities, nonprofits and service organizations to which she willingly gives her time and energy. “It makes for a long, pressure-filled day, but I welcome the challenge,” she said.
With a wide smile, a longtime friend commented, “Color her a tornado or a cyclone if you want, but mostly color her smart because she’s building inestimable goodwill for her business, at the same time as distinguishing herself as an outstanding corporate citizen.”
Another person who knows her well added, “Jen’s in perpetual motion, sort of a mobile public relations, advertising and marketing juggernaut rolled into one—and I admire her greatly for all that she’s accomplishing.”
Jen said that several rabbis who knew her father, Vincent, appreciated him for his character and professionalism, and were instrumental in convincing him to open Zion to fill the void in the marketplace.
“He showed his appreciation by creating an environment in which understanding and empathy for the families we serve is never in short supply. I think of him as my role model and I have tried to emulate him in every way possible. I still do, in fact, because he remains active in the business,” she said.
Clearly comfortable in her own skin, Jen adds a woman’s touch to the business that, for obvious reasons, no man could bring. “No doubt there’s truth to that, but my father has taught me so much, like never to rest on my laurels and the importance of staying current and relevant in order to grow.”
And something else: “He told me that the first day it becomes a job for me is the day I should leave, but that’s not likely to happen. I mean it,” Jen said.
By the time I got around to raising the question of what’s it’s like for an Italian woman to run a Jewish funeral home, she was more than prepared for it. “It’s absolutely no problem at all,” she said. “I grew up with more Jewish friends than any other kind. Like my father, I have always had great respect for Jewish traditions. And, let’s face it, Jews and Italians have a lot in common, including their love for food, faith and family.”
Slim bordering on sleek, Jen, 35, is an attractive divorcee and the mother of a four-year-old daughter, Mia, whom she adores. “She’s a hoot, the most important person in my life,” she said. “I spend as much time with her as possible and I want her to grow up to believe that any goal is attainable if you love what you do.”
Since she has been working for her father since her early teens, I wanted to know what she would do differently if she was afforded a “mulligan,” as they say in golf. “Absolutely nothing—except perhaps grab some more sleep and be a little more trusting that things would turn out well,” she said.
Detecting signs of micro-management, I asked if she managed that way.
“Over the top, guilty as charged,” she laughed. “But I’m working on it, although I’m the first to admit that I still have a way to go.”
As our hour together wound down, I was determined to throw her my best fastball with my final question, a real spur-of-the-moment toughie designed to make her think long and hard.
“When the moment arrives for you to meet your maker, what words would you like inscribed on your tombstone?” I asked.
After the briefest of pauses, she said, “She did it all and she did it well.”
Foiled again.
I was impressed and, as I packed to leave, I complimented her for being so interesting. “Tongue in cheek, she quipped, “I want you to understand that it’s never dull when a Graziano is in the room.”
That clinched it: I was on the verge of telling her that I would like her to handle my funeral arrangements when my time came. But, not wanting her to think that I was an easy mark, I figured I could hold off for a few days before giving her the order.
