Dad would be so pleased that we’re all here together today. “Togetherness!” he would say. Togetherness.
Let me add my thanks to all of you on behalf of our family for being here with us and for the incredible love and affection you’ve shown for Dad. It’s hard to believe how many lives he touched and how many of us loved him.
There’s still a piece of me that truly believes Dad would live forever. And why not? He seemed to take every curveball that life threw at him, first on his own and then with mom at his side, powering through and making lemonade every time. Sorry for the mixed metaphor. You can’t actually make lemonade from curveballs but Dad wouldn’t have minded. For him it was never about how you talked about something but what you actually did about it. How you faced each challenge.
One of those curveballs was actually of his own doing. A crazy son that always seemed to be taking another road less travelled. I used to imagine Mom and Dad going into parental executive session and Dad asking her to remind him “exactly what planet is he from again?”
Once Dad and I had lunch at Rattnor’s world-famous kosher deli on the lower east side. Dad ordered Borscht which he loved with a dollop of sour cream. When I ordered a roast beef sandwich on white bread! With mayo!!! Well a lesser man might have been embarrassed or even mortified. But not Dad. He just chuckled and shook his head. It was always the same. He may not have always understood me but that didn’t matter because he sure loved me.
When I showed a serious interest in playing the guitar Dad came home one day and handed me a couple of catalogs. Beautiful shiny new guitars. He started talking to me about this model versus that model. He had actually done research! I am reminded of that John Adams quote (I paraphrase here) … I shall wage war so my son can study music. We picked out a red guitar that I still have today.
I will never forget the time Dad came home from work and found me in the backyard at Nautilus Avenue my childhood home. I had injured my hand and was unable to play a gig that I’d spent months preparing for. Emergency room visit number 8 I believe. Right Mom? Anyway he approached me and I saw that tears were welling up in his eyes.
He loved us so much. An unconditional love the transcended everything. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know much about music or the law, like my brother, or teaching or social work, like my sister. If we loved those things then he loved them too.
There’s an old home movie, B&W, no sound of course. Dad is hamming it up for the camera. A real cut-up. Full of light, full of life. That clip, maybe 10 seconds long, really speaks to me because it was filmed around 1950 just a handful of years after surviving an unimaginable horror.
No one would have blamed Dad if he became an angry bitter man after the war. You don’t survive what he survived without it changing you forever. But Dad chose a different path. He chose to use every new day given to him by the almighty and treat it like a brand new beginning. What a remarkable man. And that may be his greatest gift to me. Eric my son (he might say) take whatever life throws at you and turn it into a cool glass of refreshing lemonade. And if you're fortunate enough to actually have a family... well keep them close, hug them often and love them, love them, love them.