Over the past two years the media has focused repeatedly on the children in Gaza. The suffering they faced. Some real, some made up. Stories they were real and that were made up.
They denied much of what happened to the children of Israel on October 7th. They completely ignored what happened to the children of Israel from October 8th until today. Spending this past week in Israel, I have had the opportunity to interact with many children here. Children in pre-school, elementary school and high school. Parents of young children who have struggled the past two years about what to say to their children, how to protect them from the horrors, and parents who are IDF reservists, struggling with the fact that they have been gone from their children’s lives for more than half of the past two years. It’s not something that can be ignored.
I visited a preschool in Carmiel, in the Northern District of Israel, often included in the area of Israel called the Misgav. It’s a town of 55,000 that is beautiful and as we drove through, you could see how wonderful a place it is. The preschool (Gan) I visited had 35 students, agest 3 and 4, and as we walked in, they were running around, happy, laughing, and inquisitive. They were excited to see new people and happily smiled at us, walked around us, and when we sat to talk, pulled up their own chairs to sit with us or sat on playground equipment to be a part of the group. They were wonderful, happy, normal children. It was amazing to see.
At one point, we moved inside to a smaller room to sit and talk without the children around us. We learned that the room we sat in was the safe room for the Gan. When the rocket alerts went off, this was where all 35 children and the staff of 3-5 teachers would all have to get into within 30 seconds. I ran a JCC with an early childhood center that had hundreds of children. Monthly, we practiced our fire drill in which we had to get all the children out of the building. We timed it an regularly had them all out of the building in under 5 minutes. Each class had no more than 16 children with 2 teachers. The alarm was loud and many of the children would hold their ears, cry, or be upset. In Israel, at this Gan, they had to get 35 children into a small room within 30 seconds. Who knew how long they would have to keep the children in this small room. Packing 38-40 people in this small room for any amount of time would be a challenge. Yet the teachers did it. The children did it. They managed. I think of how difficult that must have been on the children and on the teachers and am astounded that the children aren’t afraid of the room and don’t want to avoid it. That the room doesn’t hold terrible images for the teachers. The trauma is real and yet they are dealing with it.
We visited an afterschool program in Kiryat Shmona that has a special program for the children who live there. It’s hard to imagine, but with the 2 years of Covid and the 2 years of the war, these children have had 4 years of learning interrupted. A child in 1st grade at the start of Covid is now in 5th grade and has barely been in school. How do you overcome the deficits that occurred both developmentally and educationally? What has to happen so that these children have a chance at a normal life and learning the basic tools that they missed, both educationally and socially? My youngest son spent his entire senior year doing online learning due to Covid (before you freak out, the schools were open and there were many reasons why we began and then stayed with online learning for him). It wasn’t easy for him to overcome the social deficits as a result of the last semester of him junior year and his full senior year being done online. We created a plan and it worked. That was just over 1 year for a 17/18 year old. Not 4 years for a 6-9 year old child. These children in Kiryat Shmona and other evacuated communities may need years of remedial work to deal with the academic deficits, let alone the social and developmental ones. Who’s talking about the damage done to them?
I spoke with a 37 year old father who has spent more than a full year since October 7, 2023, in the IDF reserves. He talked about his struggles when he returns home. He has two children – two children who have not only missed having their dad in the life for more than half of the past two years but who also know that he has put his life on the line every day he wasn’t at home. A father who has trauma to deal with so isn’t the same father that left them on October 7th to defend the people of Israel and the Jewish people. A father who struggles to be there for them all the time. Who talks about these children? Who is taking care of their needs? Where is the attention on the children of those brave soldiers who have kept going back to serve to defend not just their country but the Jewish people? Why is there no outrage at the damage to them?
We talked about a school that one of my friend’s children attend. In one classroom there is a teacher who has spent a great deal of time in reserves. There are two children dealing with the loss of family members on October 7th. Why is there no outrage about these children, living in the center of the country, who know the cost of war and the cost of freedom better than most people in the United States? Why is there no outrage at the impact on these children of losing their teacher for so long?
We have a generation of children of Israel that face enormous challenges. Who have faced enormous stress. Who have lost loved ones, parents, and friends due to the Hamas attack on October 7th and the ensuring war to keep Israel safe. Where is the outrage about what they have to deal with? Where are the world’s children’s organizations who are so critical of Israel, forgiving of Hamas and their responsibility?
This past week in Israel has shown me a new price that is being paid by Israel and the Jewish people. The price is being paid by our children. I don’t think we’ll know the exact cost we have to pay for quite some time. It’s a high price for sure, one that the world doesn’t care about. Jewish children — Jewish people — are expendable to the world. They don’t count nor do they matter. It’s unforgivable.
We can never forget the price of this war and defending Israel. It is a very high cost. The only thing worse would have been doing nothing. It’s not easy, especially when you see this price. It’s worth the high cost and we hope to never pay it again. It’s worth the many people who were impacted because of the many people who will be kept safe as a result.
When you look at the faces of these beautiful children and these beautiful babies, how can you not stand up and speak out on their behalf? How can you not do everything possible to protect them? We know Hamas does everything they can do damage and harm the children in Gaza as well as the children in Israel. We have to fight back even harder to protect ours.
About 6 months ago I began subscribing to The Free Press. The articles have been great and each Sunday there is a focus by Douglas Murray called, “Things Worth Remembering” that in year one focused on poetry. I have to admit that for most of my life, poetry hasn’t been something that I really got. Yet getting this weekly article about a specific poem that really dug into the words began to inspire me. I went from glancing at it, to skimming it, to reading it and really enjoying it. The Free Press announced that year two of the column will now focus on great oratory of the ages.
I’ve also written about how behind I am with popular music. So, as I catch up on music, I thought I’d imitate the Free Press and use Sunday as a day to be inspired by music. Today’s song is from 2017, so I’m only 6-7 years behind the curve on this one. It’s by Scotty McCreary and called ‘Five More Minutes”. The words remind me of the past and inspire me for the future.
Eight years old, couple cane pole sittin’ down by the creek. Lines in the water, watchin’ those bobbers, seein’ that red sun sink. Mama’s on the porch yellin’, “Supper’s hot! Y’all come and get it!” We yelled, “Five more minutes.”
As a child, we played outside every day. Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall, it didn’t matter how hot or cold it was, we were outside playing. The rules were when the streetlights came on, we had to head home. And every day, when the lights came on, we kept playing until at least one of our mothers who open the front door and yell at us to come inside for dinner. And just like in the song, we would groan and beg for just five more minutes. We never really wanted just five more minutes but that was what we asked for. As an adult, I look back on those days with such gratitude. We had no worries. We played all sorts of games outside with everybody in the neighborhood. The only worry we had was watching for the streetlights to turn on. There are many days that I wish for just five more minutes of that childhood without the pressures of life. As my children grew up, I wanted to give them to same type of experience. While the world had changed and technology meant they weren’t outside all afternoon like we were, I still wanted to give them the opportunity to ask for just five more minutes. I smile when it’s dinner time and my now young adult sons will ask for just a few more minutes to finish their game before they come to eat.
The joy of childhood is precious, and we lose it far too often. While as adults we have responsibilities beyond coming home for dinner when the streetlights turn on, we can find our own ways to do the things that bring us similar joy to we experienced in childhood. In the times we live in, bringing some childhood joy to our lives is critical to maintain our sanity.
At sixteen, it was 12:03, standin’ at her front door. And Katie’s dad said “Midnight,” but we needed just a little more. Yellow light flippin’ on and off interruptin’ that good night kissin’. We wanted five more minutes.
As a teen, it was no longer just come in for dinner when the streetlights came on. After dinner it was going out with friends. First it was just in the neighborhood and as we got older and could drive, it was midnight and later. It was exciting and thrilling. The night brought lots of opportunities, especially with dating. I remember many times sitting in the car or at the front door with the ‘goodnight kiss’, knowing that her dad was waiting inside to make sure she got home by curfew. And like the song, we always wanted just five more minutes. High school was all about the five more minutes of whatever we were doing, other than school. Dating, parties, youth group conventions, vacations – we always wanted just a little bit more.
When I look back, I find myself thinking about how to get that extra time with the things I love. Going to sporting events with my kids, the theater with my wife, vacations with my wife and with the family, concerts, spending holidays together, and so much more. I remember growing up hearing about how time was the most precious commodity we have and thinking how young I was and how much future was ahead. In my mid 50s, with 60 around the corner, I look back and appreciate the way I spent some of my time and think of the missed time that I can never get back. I treasure the time I got to spend with my grandparents and how integral all four of them were to me into my mid-20s and early 30s. I think of my great-grandma Rose and the time I spent with her. I think of my parents, my siblings (including my wife’s sisters and her family), my cousins, my in-laws, and my close friends.
As I look at the next two decades of my life, I want to focus on that extra five more minutes with the people I love and the people who matter to me. Time truly is the most precious possession we have, and I am grateful to be at a place in my life and with my career where I don’t have to sacrifice the time because of work, finances, or ego. I want to remember what it felt like being a teenager when I treasured every minute on a date, while being out with friends, and with everything that I did. Somehow when building a career and raising a family, these things get lost, and it is too easy to never recover them.
Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Ah, but they just keep on flyin’. Right on by like it ain’t nothin’. I wish I had me a-, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. And give myself five more minutes.
As a kid, time seemed to drag on. I remember being told that as I got older, the days would go slow and the years would go fast. I didn’t believe it nor did I truly understand it. I was young. Invincible. The future was mine and so much ahead of me. I remember turning 30 and thinking how old I was, because I grew up in shadows of the ‘don’t trust anybody over 30’ generation. I wanted a fast forward button, not a pause button. Fast forward through high school so I could be independent and move away to college. College was fun but I wanted to fast forward to building a career. Being single was fun but I wanted to fast forward to getting married and having children. Time was plentiful so why would I want to slow life down?
My fraternity brothers at one of our formals. Truly the best of times that went way too fast.
My friend Aric, who is like a brother to me, and his now wife Carol Ann. We joke that if it was ‘my turn’ when we met girls that she would have been my wife instead of his. It feels like yesterday but it was more than 30 years ago.
High school. Hard to believe this was almost 40 years ago. It feels like yesterday. We lost my friend Ellen (z’l) in the Penn Sweatshirt and sunglasses last year. Time goes too fast. I’d like 5 more minutes with my friend.
How naïve we are as young people. We think we are indestructible. We think we will live forever. We think nothing bad will happen. I would love to go back and use the pause button as my grandparents’ beach cottage every summer with extended family. I want to use the pause button on our family Thanksgiving touch football games and our family Passover whiffle ball games, especially when my grandparents would play in one way or another. I’d use the pause button when we celebrated both sets of grandparents 50th wedding anniversaries on the same cruise and when we celebrated my parents 50th wedding anniversary on another cruise. I’d hit the pause button on all the time I spent with my cousin Eric growing up together. I’d pause my wedding and honeymoon. I’d use it when my kids, Evan and Matthew, were little to get more of them as small children. When I look at the pictures that we have of them when they were both under 6, I wonder where the time went and how it went so quickly.
Family picture on my parents 50th anniversary cruise
My parents and their grandchildren as we celebrated their 50th anniversary.
The family in Curacao at the oldest synagogue in the western hemisphere. We had so much fun together celebrating my parents.
My cousin Eric and me at ‘the cottage’ cooking breakfast. We had amazing times together and at the cottage before his early passing. We had life plans that never happened.
While we don’t have a real life pause button, we do have the ability to treasure every moment and not miss them. I think of driving Evan to Tennessee to start graduate school and his college football coaching career and how I treasured every minute of the drive, moving him in, and shopping for the things he needed. I think of the times I went on college recruiting trips with Evan and when I took Matthew to visit and explore potential colleges. Going to theater with my wife and Matthew, sporting events with Evan and Matthew, and our special fantasy baseball ‘Get Together’ weekends with our ICBL brothers each year and smile as the memories are vivid and I enjoyed every minute. Recently I attended my friend Jeremy’s wedding and had the honor of officiating their marriage. Every minute of the time we all spent together was special and treasured. We have the ability to step back, slow down, and appreciate the gifts we have in our life. Too often, we look back and realize ‘we missed it’. I made the decision when my dad died that I wasn’t going to miss anything any longer. It was the experience that taught me the importance of time and how to treasure it. To live life as if there was a pause button so I appreciate all the moments.
Jeremy and me before the wedding. A memory I will never forget.
Evan, Matthew and me on the field before the game at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium during a recruiting vist to UF.
Alison, Matthew, Carla, and me at the Orlando Ballet’s performance of the Nutcracker. These are highlights we take advantage of while we can.
At eighteen, turned my helmet in and walked to the fifty-yard line. Just the coach and me after we lost eighteen to nine. And I cried, “Man, next time to get in here, I’ll have to buy a ticket. Can’t you give me five more minutes?”
My oldest son Evan played high school football and started all four years. We went to football camps together his last two years of high school. As a family, we didn’t miss games and the opportunity to watch him play. I’ll never forget his last high school football game as we walked the field arm in arm, as he was honored on senior night. I’ll never forget the look on his face after the game, a big win, and the connection he had with his coach. I remember the feeling I had at that moment, knowing I would never watch him play high school football again and that not only was his life changing, but mine was as well. We stayed on the field after the game for a long time to soak up every minute we could. And I remember thinking as we walked off the field how I wish I could have had just a little more time, just five more minutes, of that experience as it ended forever. When he told me that he had decided not to continue playing college football and instead wanted to start his coaching career early, while he was in college, I was devastated. He was fine with his decision and didn’t regret ending one stage and moving onto the next step in his career. I wasn’t ready. I was looking forward to watching him play, to celebrating his achievements, and struggled with the way it was changing my life. I was still able to watch him coach at UCF and then in high school and with the semi-pro Orlando law enforcement/first responders’ team. It was still an awesome experience, but a very different one. As he started his professional career coaching college football, it was an incredible experience watching him coach.
Evan and Coach Carter sharing emotion after his final high school game.
Evan and Coach Carter. A great mentor
Evan tackling as a freshman. His first tackle ever was NBA star Dejounte Murray.
Family picture on the field after his freshman season
Evan played in the band at halftime 3 of his 4 years of varsity football. This was a classic – we need more cowbell! Matthew is in the back as they played in the band together.
Evan in uniform at UCF
Evan in the locker room before the game
Evan with his conference championship ring. A forever treasure.
Evan snapping in practice. He was a great long snapper.
Evan with the UCF conference championship trophy. What a memoryEvan as the head coach of the Orlando Guardians of the National Public Safety Football League. They played teams like FDNY and the Chicago Fire Department.
Watching Matthew, my younger son, graduate high school was another seminal moment. I would now only have kids in college. Attending his graduation, Magna Cum Laude, from Seminole State, was an incredible experience. When he graduates UCF in another year, I will no longer have any kids in college. It’s another major life transition and when he moves out of the house as well, I know I will want 5 more minutes of kids living in my house. It’s another reminder of how precious time is and how important it is not to waste the time we have.
Matthew graduation night – he graduated Magna Cum Laude, truly impressive.
I was invited to the White House Hanukkah party in 2022. Matthew came with me and we had a great time. Another special moment we will both remember forever.
At eighty-six, my grandpa said, “There’s angels in the room.” All the family gathered ‘round, knew the time was comin’ soon. With so much left to say I prayed, “Lord, I ain’t finished. Just give us five more minutes.”
My dad died on September 6, 2022. I had gotten him moved to Advent Health about three weeks prior and my mom moved in with us while he was in the hospital. I visited him every day while he was in the hospital and got to spend quality time with my mom every morning and evening. Those three weeks are precious to me, both for the time I spent with my dad and the time I spent with my mom. When I think of them, I tear up, because they were some of the most meaningful days of my life. I look back at some of the pictures from those three weeks and smile with a mixture of happiness and sadness. My dad eating real food I had delivered when he got out of ICU into a private room – I can still hear him talking about how good it was because the hospital food was so bad. The picture of him and my mom walking hand in hand in the hospital hallway. They were married for 56 years and together for 65+. The last picture I took of my dad, lying in his bed, with a sweet smile on his face. I remember kissing him goodnight, telling him I loved him and would see him in the morning. My mom got the call from the hospital around 1:30 am that morning that he had died. We went to the hospital together and sat with him, just the three of us, while we waited until it was not too early to call my brother and my sister as well as my Aunt Sheila, his sister. Writing about it brings tears to my eyes once again.
When I look at this picture, I can hear my dad’s voice talking about how good the food was and how much he enjoyed it. I’m forever grateful for the opportunity I had the last 3 weeks of his life.
My mom and dad walking the hospital hallway. So many special moments during those 3 weeks that I will treasure forever.
The last picture I took of my dad. He looked so sweet and peaceful. I gave him a kiss, told him I loved him and that I’d see him the next morning. He died a few hours later. Every time I look at this picture it brings tears to my eyes. How I wish I could have 5 more minutes.
As we sat in the room with him after he had died, I remember wishing I just had one more chance to talk with him, to tell him again how much I loved him, to be able to ask his advice and hear his wisdom and knowing that would never be possible. I wanted those five more minutes. I have no regrets with my dad, I just wanted more. I wanted those five more minutes. And today, there are plenty of times when I want to pick up the phone and call him, talk for five minutes, and pick his brain and get his advice. Once again, it’s an example of the precious nature of time.
I choose to invest my time with my family. With my sons, my wife, my mom, siblings and siblings-in-law. I want to do my part to ensure that when the time comes, my children have no regrets. They don’t wish they had just done something more with me. They don’t regret missing out spending time together.
Celebrating my mom’s birthday with the family. I don’t miss these opportunities.
The family celebrating Alison’s 50th birthday
Dancing with my mom at a family Bar Mitzvah.
I think of the lost time with my family members who died too young. My Uncle Joe. My cousins Eric and Todd. I think of the time missed with my friends who have died in the past few years and how they won’t be around any longer. I always think of my dad, who died in September 2022, and who I miss daily. We have no guarantees in life, and we get to choose our priorities. I’ve reached a place in my life where my priorities have shifted. It’s far more rewarding to do what I can to minimize the impact of wanting those five more minutes at the end.
Yeah, sometimes this ol’ life will leave you wishin’. That you had five more minutes. Five more minutes.
Priorities are the key. We live in a culture that values money, status, and titles. We often sacrifice things like time with family and friends in our effort to make money, obtain a better title, or because our identity is tied to our job. In the end, like the song says, those priorities “will leave you wishin’ that you had five more minutes.” Our society puts pressure on us to meet their priorities. Over the past 18 months, since my dad got sick and then died, I have been reviewing my priorities. Asking myself what is really important. What do I really value? It’s been a complete reset in many areas.
October 7th only highlighted this even more. I have seen the 47-minute Hamas video and it’s horrifying. I have four friends who had family members taken hostage. Of the 6 hostages, 4 have been released. There are still 2 held by Hamas, now for 126 days. I have friends who lost family members at the music festival. Friends who lost family serving in the IDF. Friends who are serving or have children currently serving in the IDF, worried every day about their safety. I wear my dogtags every day. My Magen David (star of David) every day. I put a new piece of masking tape on my shirt, over my heart, every day, updating the number of days the hostages have been kept.
Besides being a great song, Five More Minutes teaches an important lesson. It reminds us that in the end, all we really want is more time. No matter how much money we may have, no matter how much power and influence we may have, no matter what our titles are or what we have accomplished in our careers, the one thing we all want is just five more minutes. At the end of the day, we have the choice to set our priorities. I choose to do what I can to want, but not need, those five more minutes.
Some people get inspired by poetry. Others by art such paintings or sculptures. For some it is the beauty of dance. Still another group it’s the theater. That’s the great thing about the arts. Different people can find inspiration in different things at different times. For me, it has always been through music and the lyrics, or poetry, that make up the song. For years I would quote my favorite poet, Bruce Springsteen.
Recently, I have been listening to a lot of country music. I think it’s because my oldest son likes it and listens to it (along with hip-hop) in his car or when he would take over the music in my car. Since I tend to do most of the long-distance driving, I began listening. After our 10+ hour drive to Tennessee to move him to graduate school I was fully hooked and even had some favorite ‘new’ songs.
The lyrics to country music truly speak to life. I have found many artists that I like and even more songs that speak to me. As my children are now in their 20s, I found it a little odd that the song ‘Watching You’ by Rodney Atkins became a favorite as it’s about a father and his 4-year-old son. As I listened to it over many days, I finally realized that it’s not just about our children watching and learning from us. Children are sponges and soak up whatever we put out. What speaks to me now is the impact of this. As we see worldwide hatred continue to grow, as we have seen the incredible expression of Jew hatred since October 7th, it really does come down to the lyrics of this song and people watching us.
“So I said ‘son, where did you learn to talk like that?’ He said, ‘I’ve been watching you dad, ain’t that cool? I’m your buckaroo, I wanna be like you. And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are. We got cowboy boots and camo pants. Yeah, we’re just alike, hey, ain’t we dad? I wanna do everything you do. So I’ve been watching you.’”
People watch what we do. Our children are exposed the most and we have the most impact on them. I think of the messages I got from my parents and my grandparents about what really matters and what to invest in. About the messages I have sent and continue to send to my children.
Sitting in Grandpa Len’s lap. He never stopped teachingGrandpa Si was always teaching us as we watched himI was lucky to have all 4 grandparents alive and teaching me until I was 26
I want to focus on 5.
1. Family is everything. It’s something my parents and grandparents always believed in. Whether that meant ensuring we spent time together as a nuclear family, extended family, or with those who are just considered family, there was never a question about this in our house. Growing up, we attended every family celebration. We spent vacations at my grandparent’s beach house in Connecticut which meant we spent that time with most of our cousins. Holidays were family events and I have fond memories of Thanksgiving and Passover with my cousins. This is something I have continued with my children. It’s essential they understand that when it comes to family, that always comes first.
The family celebrating Ali’s 50th birthdayOne of our memorable family vacationsMy parents with their 7 grandchildren on their 50th anniversary cruiseThe Dvorchik family all togetherEven without my dad, when there is a family event we show up
2. Judaism matters. I spent most of my childhood at the synagogue or JCC. Hebrew school was 3 days a week. We went on Shabbat morning for services. My parents were involved so there was usually an event at least one other day a week. 4-5 days a week, 10 months a year, I was there for something. The JCC was a couple of blocks away and easy to walk between the two. I learned to swim at the JCC. I played basketball, floor hockey, did community theater and was on the swim team at the JCC. As I got older, the public school had a bus that stopped there so it was common for my friends and I to go there after school and then, at 5 pm, figure out which of our mom’s would be able to pick us up. Using the phone at the reception desk, eventually we would find one of them at home or before they left work to get us. At least most of the time. Being Jewish and a part of the Jewish community was ingrained in me from the beginning by what my parents did and invested in. I went to Jewish summer camp. I was involved with a Jewish youth group.
My synagogue confirmation class. We still keep in touch and many of us are in Facebook chat.There is even a big time future Rabbi in our group!
Every Friday night we had Shabbat dinner. We all sat down at the table after lighting candles. My dad said the kiddush. One of the kids said Hamotzi. Every week. We could invite friends if we wanted. As we got older, we were allowed to go out with friends on Friday night only AFTER Shabbat dinner. It was tradition. It was special. As my kids got older and my oldest started playing high school football, during football season, our Shabbat dinner changed. Instead of being at the table, it was in the stands, usually a hot dog and soda as we watched him play. It wasn’t the same quality of meal, but it was the same quality of time together. Even today, we are talking about Shabbat dinner and while I don’t bake Challah like I used to before becoming gluten free, I’m trying to find a good recipe so it will be part of the weekly ritual. Family time is special and a value to my grandparents, parents, myself, and our children. The investment my parents and grandparents put into infusing being Jewish into my core remains today.
As little kids, lighting the menorah with my dadAs a little kid, saying Hamotzi with my Grandpa Si on ShabbatKiddush with Grandpa Si. I got a sip of wine.
3. Talk is cheap. This was one of my dad’s favorite statements to me (or maybe most often used). Anybody can say anything. It’s not what you say but what you do that matters. As a child, I would always have an excuse. My dad taught me that it didn’t matter what you said, it mattered what you did. “Show me, don’t tell me.” was a common theme. My parents showed love. They showed responsibility. They showed what a marriage looked like. They showed what raising a family is like. They showed sacrifice. They showed commitment. They gave the example of what to do, not what to say. At work. With each other. With us. Basically, they showed how to do this in life.
4. The best gift you can give your children is to love their mother. This came from my dad and his father. I heard this growing up. I saw it in action with my grandparents and my parents. Both sets of grandparents were married for over 55 years. My parents were married for over 55 years. They set the example for their children about love, commitment, and respect.
One of my favorite pictures of my parents showing their loveTheir faces show their loveTheir wedding picture has always been a favoriteMy dad’s favorite picture of my mom – he always had it in his officeAli and me enjoying a night out
5. Get involved and make a difference. My parents and grandparents were always involved in the community, particularly the Jewish community. Presidents of their synagogue. Involved with the men’s clubs, sisterhoods. Volunteering at the Jewish Home for the Aged as I grew up. The Masons, Kiwanis, Hadassah, National Council of Jewish Women, and B’nai Brith are just some of the organizations they were involved with. My grandmother knitted slippers and hats for people in the hospital. Growing up, I saw what commitment was like and as I got involved with my youth group, I took on leadership roles. In college, I was a leader in my fraternity. Throughout my adult life, getting involved has been important to me whether it was in the workplace or the things I do for fun. It’s something I have infused into my children as well. Just showing up isn’t enough. We have an obligation to get involved and make a difference.
My dad’s last big volunteer effort was a Nefesh Mountain concert to raise money for Jewish summer camps scholarships. Everybody said he was crazy. They made about 10k to help send kids to camp. He was so excited and so proud.
When I listen to Rodney Atkins sing those lyrics, I see myself as a little boy looking up at my dad. I see my boys looking up to me as their dad. And I think about the final chorus when he sings:
My dad with me and my brother when we were littleI’m sure I was doing something I wasn’t supposed toThe time I took my kids to dinner with Eli Weisel
“But when I’m big I’ll still know what to do. Cause I’ve been watching you dad, ain’t that cool? I’m your buckaroo, I wanna be like you. And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are. By then I’ll be strong as superman. We’ll be just alike, hey, won’t we dad? When I can do everything you do. ‘Cause I’ve been watching you.“
Our kids are watching us and learning. Their friends are watching us and learning. The world is looking at us and watching and learning. What are we committed to showing and teaching them? For me, I know. Do you?
My favorite picture of me and my dad. This is from Evan’s Bar Mitzvah party. We were both filled with so much joy.
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