I think that when most people in the LA community think about my Abba, they think about a real mentsch; a friendly, sincere, positive guy who liked to make bad jokes and make people laugh and could also laugh at himself. I think they think about how he loved Torah and Judaism and made learning Torah a priority. As one good friend said to him a few months ago, “you make us look bad.” I think they think probably think about a doctor who really cared for his patients and those friends who came to have him look at something. They probably also know that he was a loving husband and father and that his kids, kids in law, and grandkids brought him the most amount of joy. Those assessments are all accurate, but allow me to share some brief examples on some of the above generalities- but know that it is just a taste of who my father was.
How much of a mentsch was my Abba?
He was such a mentsch that he was the favorite patron of the Robertson library where he used to take us as kids on our weekly Friday afternoon trips. The African American and Hispanic librarians’ faces lit up when he would walk in and start to schmooze with them. My mother talks about how when she would
take us, she would try to stay anonymous, but my father had made that impossible. The same was true more recently with the chemo staff at Cedars who were so happy to see him because he made jokes and tried to make their work day better.
How much did he love Torah and Judaism?
So much so that his favorite gift to receive was a sefer- which is what we tended to get him for his birthday every year. My father loved the chagim and his love and excitement of Judaism never seemed to wane. Hardly a conversation went by without a dvar torah and when Moshe and I came to visit in December and had some free time and offered to go out with him, watch a movie with him, do whatever he felt up to, he was most excited about having a chabura with us. But his G-d and his Torah were happy and joyful so what he wanted to learn, in the midst of his illness, was the positive, uplifting nevuot of Yeshayahu.
How much did he love our mom?
He still liked to call her baby, call her his girlfriend, missed her terribly if they had to be apart for even a short amount of time and recently said how they were more in love now, in their 43rd
How loving of a father was he?
He was so loving that, for example, when we, as children, woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and had trouble going back to sleep, he would take a tissue, put perfume or cologne on it
and he would tuck us snugly back into bed with something comforting. He, together with our mother, were each of our biggest cheering sections- whether it was related to a new haircut, a new outfit, or some accomplishment. He was so loving and devoted and he gave that easily to every new member of the family. When Eric and I got engaged last May and he found out that Eric’s father had been a jazz musician, he took out a CD six hours long that taught him the basics of Jazz and not a phone conversation went by without my father referencing the syncopation about which he had recently become an expert.
I could go on, but I know that our time is limited. I would like to thank you all for you all of your support that you gave- especially with all of us far away- and the zechuyot that you built up for our abba- it meant so much to my father and means so much to all of us.
Amidst the pain and longing and wishing that Hashem kept him with us for a lot longer, I pray that I can help carry on his rich legacy of love, excitement, and devotion to family and Torah and mentschlichkeit to everyone.
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