Tag: loss

Fire, loss, and gratitude

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

The wildfires in California are devastating. People are losing their homes and their valuables. Some are losing their lives. I live in Florida, far from California. There is no threat of those fires expanding to my community, yet I truly understand what that loss feels like.

In 2013, my family and I were preparing to move from Gainesville, FL to Seattle, WA as I had been recruited and hired to be the new President and CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle. It was a big move with lots of nerves, fear, and concern for all of us. We were literally moving completely across the country. My wife and kids had never not lived close to family and now we were moving nearly 3,000 miles away.

This was a big new job in a new community for me. Alison, my wife, had one friend who lived there and my kids knew nobody. It was exciting and scary at the same time. We packed up our house, the movers took our belongings away, and we moved into my in-laws house for a few days. I was leaving a few days before my family to get things set up, move into our rental home, pick up our dog at the airport and then get the family a few days later. Everything was set up for this big change in our lives.

As I prepared to head to the airport in a rental car (our cars had been shipped already), my phone rang. It was the moving company. They told me that there had been a fire in our moving truck and it was a complete loss. Everything we owned that was on that truck was lost. My face dropped. I didn’t know what to do. For a minute I thought I was being pranked, I hoped and prayed I was being pranked, but I wasn’t. I told Alison and she was stunned. How do you comprehend losing all your belongings like that. Your memories. Your photos as a child, with your grandparents, your children as babies, your ketubah (marriage certificate) and so much more.

I headed to the airport in shock, talking to Alison on the phone the entire time. I called Delta, told them what happened, and they changed my flight to a day later. I called my new board chair and shared the news with her. She was shocked. Using humor to deflect my feelings, I said to her, “Well, at least we don’t have to unpack.”

When I got back to my in-laws house, we spoke to the moving company again and they said we could come to the facility in Jacksonville where the truck was and salvage anything that we wanted. Still in shock, Alison and I drove to Jacksonville, depressed at what we were going to see.

When we arrived, they told us what happened. The truck hadn’t left the yard yet. There was an issue with the truck that needed to be fixed before they could send it to Seattle. The way to fix it involved using a blowtorch. Their standard operating procedure is to removed everything from the truck, then use the blowtorch to fix it, and then reload the truck. The person who was fixing it decided he didn’t want to do that and just tried to fix it with all our belonging still on the truck. Something caught fire, the truck went up in flames, they rushed to put it out, but the fire, smoke, and water ruined our belongings. Later, I reached out to a few attornies about a lawsuit since they didn’t follow their procedures and I learned that they are only liable for the loss. Not for anything else. I learned that sentimental things have no value other than replacement of them. Things that were handed down from my grandfathers would be worth pennies because they were old things that could easily replaced. A lesson learned.

We were both fuming as we walked to the area where the truck and our belongings were. You could smell the smoke well before we got there. The sight was devastating. Boxes were charred and wet. Furniture burned. We slowly approached the area, tears in our eyes, and began to go through the boxes.

Then something amazing happened. We opened a wet and charred box and found our ketubah in it, in perfect condition. We opened another wet and charred box and found our wedding album along with other picture albums from our childhoods. We found our children’s professional pictures when they were 4 and 2 perfectly safe. We looked around as our furniture, clothes, and everything that could be replaced with money was damaged and lost and realized that things that really mattered to us were not. The collage from our wedding reception was fine. My autographed sports memorabilia that I got personally, signed to me, was fine. The things my grandfather and Alison’s grandfather did special for us, were fine. My grandfather had the newspapers from the 4 days leading up to Nixon’s resignation and the day that FDR died. They mean the world to me because they connect me to him, long after he died. They were all fine. Our hearts warmed quickly and were filled with gratitude. Yes, we lost all our material possessions and would have to get everything new. Yet the things that truly mattered to us, the things that were irreplaceable, were saved.

This was my proof that God exists. There was no reason for these things to be saved. They weren’t in a part of the truck that wasn’t burned. Our ketubah and Alison’s bridal portrait were in boxes that were behind the couch that burned up. The things that mattered the most were mixed with everything that was a complete loss. There was no reason for them to be saved and in great condition other than God.

As we see what is happening in Calfornia with the fire and loss of homes, I think back to when we lost everything we owned. When people reached out, wanting to donate money to help us, we declined. Why did we decline? We had insurance on our items and they could be replaced. We thought we had enough insurance but eventually learned that replacing EVERYTHING you own is much more expensive than you think. We told people that most importantly, nobody was hurt. We still had a place to live and material things are not important compared to being healthy.

I feel for the people who have lost their homes and their possessions. I have been there with the possessions and was grateful it was just possessions and not my house. I was lucky that the things that couldn’t be replaced were saved. The people in California don’t have that luck. Houses and possessions can be replaced. It will be an inconvenience. It will be frustrating. It’s not something anybody would want to go through. For those who lost their lives, they can’t be replaced. For those who lost their material possessions, all that can, and will, be replaced.

After losing our material possessions in 2013, I found myself grateful. Grateful that we were safe and it was just things. Grateful we had insurance, which covered about 85% of the cost of replacing everything. I was incredibly grateful that the things that couldn’t be replaced were saved. It reminded me of my priorities. It reminded me that material things are just that – things. We may like them and enjoy them, but they are just things. There are many things far more important.

I hope that those going through this awful time of loss, of devastation, and in a time when they are in shock, the same way I was in shock after hearing the news, come to the same realization. Their homes will be rebuilt. They will buy new clothes and new furniture. They can buy new art for the walls, new rugs for the floors, new towels and sheets, and appliances. There are many things that are irreplaceable. Possessions are not among them.

I found great comfort in this realization. I hope those dealing with it in California find the same comfort. Having lost all my possessions in 2013, I know what is really important. I would gladly go through it all over again to ensure my health and the health of my loved ones. Possessions are temporary and unimportant. Our lives and the lives of our loved ones are what matters. Health and happiness. Let the pain those in California are going through be a lesson to us all about what really matters in life. I know it’s a reminder for me.

Me walking through the fire damage of our belongings
Inside the moving van where the fire occurred.

Fast Times, Memories, and Lessons (plus Happy Sylvester)

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

It’s the last day of 2023 – Happy New Year! (Happy Sylvester for those who know). My 13 year old dog Bella woke me up early to eat her breakfast and go outside.  After taking care of her needs and brewing a pot of coffee, I sat down and turned on the television.  One of my favorite movies, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, was on, so I had to watch it.  It immediately brought back memories.

Fast Times chronicles high school in the early 80’s.  It’s the story of my adolescence.  At different times I can relate with Brad, Spicoli, Rat, and Damone. We knew who was Linda, who was Stacy, and who was Lisa. Certainly we all had a teacher like Mr. Hand. The hair, clothes, language, teachers, cars, and situations bring me right back to being in high school.  The friends and the fun we had, all while looking forward to our amazing futures in college, with careers, and the unlimited opportunities ahead of us.  It was the 1980s, so capitalism was king.  Everybody believed they would become incredibly successful and wealthy.  We had no limits ahead of us. 

Hanging out in somebody’s basement. Life was good and the future was bright for all of us.

It’s hard to believe that was about 40 years ago.  As I think back over the past approximately 40 years, I wonder where the time has gone.  I still feel like that 15–17-year-old high school kid most of the time, even though my own children are much older than that.  I still feel like I have that amazing future in front of me even though I also recognize that nearly 2/3 of my life is now behind me. 

Lately I have been thinking a lot about those times.  I attended two high schools.  My freshman and sophomore year were at Susquehanna in Harrisburg, PA.  Then we moved to the Philadelphia area where I finished high school at Upper Dublin.  My Susquehanna friends were friends from elementary, middle, and high school where we had a long history of growing up together.  My friends from Upper Dublin were forged from the power of the last two years of high school and coming of age together.  I moved to Florida in 1992 and lost contact with many of them until social media gave us the opportunity to reconnect many years later.

My high school classmates have had lives that cross the entire spectrum.  Unfortunately, some died tragic deaths at a young age.  I think of them and what they missed in life often, grateful for my own life experiences.  Some of them have been wildly financially successful, earning generational wealth.  Most of us have lived lives filled with meaning, getting through the ups and downs that life brings us.  We have faced challenges and successes, often with dignity and sometimes without.  Yet here we are, about to enter 2024, just like we entered our senior year of high school back in 1984.  Looking forward to what life brings us. I went back and found some pictures of us. Some aged well and some, well, let’s say they just aged.

Half of our graduating class. Try to find me – it definitely didn’t age well.

The other half of our class.

A group of us got to spend a month in England in November 1984. Feel free to write about my timeless look in the comments.

One of our favorite pictures from England as we got to dress in ancestral clothes

A group of us before prom. Perfectly 1980s

I was active in BBYO – most in this picture still keep in touch today.

Toga parties were the thing back then

One of my dear friends died of breast cancer this year.  She was a few months older than me, we graduated high school together, and kept in touch through the years.  Our lives followed similar paths.  Careers, marriage, children, family.  Meaningful lives that we could be proud of.  And then cancer struck.  She beat it once, but it came back and won the second time.  A .500 average in baseball would mean a unanimous Hall of Fame career.  A sad outcome in life.  We spoke a few months before her passing and while there seemed to be a resignation in her voice, she remained hopeful for the future.  When I think of her, I am always shocked that she is really gone and we won’t be able to share pictures, laughs, and the joy of our children’s accomplishments. We won’t be able to reminisce about ‘the good old days’ and laugh out loud at how ridiculous we were.

My dad died in 2022.  A few months ago, my mom told me a story that she had just recently heard from the person who was in the ambulance with him as he was transferred from a hospital in Tampa to Advent Health in Orlando.  He told this person that he wasn’t afraid of dying.  He just was sad about all that he would miss.  I think about his wisdom and insight all the time since my mom shared that story with me.  And how much he has missed in just over a year. And how much he will miss and how much we miss him. It brings tears to my eyes every single time. 

My dad, Evan and me on the field at Ben Hill Griffin stadium before a game during Evan’s football recruiting. One of my treasured memories as I watched my dad kvell over his grandson.

It reminds me that time is our most precious commodity and the only thing we can’t get back.  In 2013 when our moving truck caught fire and burned and we lost our material possessions, so many people reached out because of the loss.  Yet while we were saddened to have lost things that we loved; they were all replaceable.  And in my ‘proof God exists’ moment, the only things that weren’t lost in the moving fire were the things that couldn’t be replaced with any amount of money.  Things that came from our grandparents.  Our ketubah (Jewish marriage certificate).  Picture albums from my bar mitzvah, from our wedding, from when the kids were babies.  We can make more money, get another car, buy a different house or move to a different apartment, get new clothes, furniture, or other material things.  What we can’t get back is time.

The smell of smoke and burned things is fresh for me when I look at these pictures more than 10 years later.

So, as we end 2023 and begin 2024, I hope this is a year focused on people.  On friends and loved ones.  I have enjoyed reconnecting with my high school friends and seeing what their lives are like.  Enjoying their work and life accomplishments.  Seeing pictures of their grandchildren (I’m far too young to have grandchildren).  Watching their children graduate college, get married, have B’nai mitzvahs, and their major career changes.  Sharing stories both online and in person with each other, reminding ourselves of these special time that while long gone feel like yesterday.  I appreciate these friendships more every day and how we are able to help each other or our friends and families just because we want to and are able to. 

Just a few weeks ago, somehow the topic of a party I threw in early 1983 came up. The comments made me laugh as the memories of that crazy night came back. And of course, the next morning when I was busted by my parents and the punishment that came afterwards. Yet, 40 years later, I don’t regret it and love the memories we all share.

As we think about our goals for the new year, I urge you to think about the ones that are truly important.  They are not going to put that you ‘worked 50 hours a week’ on your tombstone. Nobody in their eulogy is going to celebrate that you ingnored your friends and family to work those extra hours. You will be celebrated for the things that you showed up to, not the things you missed to earn money. Think about the friendships from years ago and from today.  Think about what is really priceless and what is just transactional.  Invest your time and energy in the right place for an unbelievable return. As I do that, I wanted to share some pictures from this past year that re priceless to me. Because family and community is what is truly priceless to me.

My mom, brother, sister and me the day before my dad’s unveiling.

At the Orlando ballet with my son Matthew, his girlfriend Carla, and my wife Alison

Matthew and me at the Jaguars game – special father son time

Matthew and me watching my son Evan coach in the championship game for Tusculum College

Evan on the field before the conference championship game. Matthew and I are in the stands watching and cheering on Tusculum.

Matthew, Carla and me at the theater. Usually it’s Alison but when she has to work, Carla takes her place

Alison and me on vacation in Bali

Evan in his happy place – coaching college football. I’m so grateful he found his passion and is pursuing it.

Traveling to DC with a group from Orlando to join the 300,000 people who rallied in support of Israel after the horrors Hamas committed on October 7, 2023. I’m proud to be one of the people who were there.

Change and the power of people

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

Change isn’t easy.  It’s new, it’s different, and often comes with pain, either because it’s something we don’t want or because it’s something that hurts that forces us to see things differently and behave differently.  As we approach the new year, 2024, it’s a time many people make resolutions for the new year.  Things they will change.  A number of years ago I made the last one, and one I have kept ever since.  I vowed to stop making New Year’s Resolutions?

Why did I do that? Most of these are aspirational with no intent to actually make the changes.  The impetus is a date on the calendar, not a desire for real change, and as a result, they simply don’t work.  By not making any more new year’s resolutions, I empowered myself to make the changes in my life when they are needed rather than because it’s now January 1st of a new year.

As I look back at the past year, it gives me a chance to look at the changes I have made and the impact they have had and what I hope they will have as I move forward.

On September 6, 2022, my father died.  I have been lucky in my life to have wonderful relationships with my parents, and this was a transformative moment in my life.  My dad was who I went to for advice and guidance.  He was a role model.  With him no longer physically here, change was needed in my life.  I had to find others who could help provide the guidance that my dad offered for nearly 55 years.  My Uncle Marty, my close friends Todd and Ron.  People who I had long standing, trusted relationships went to a deeper level. 

I began to question what was really important in my life.  What mattered to me.  I made a commitment to increase the amount of time I spent with my family as time had become the most important thing in my life.  I wanted to improve my health, lose weight, and get better reports from my doctors.  None of this happened overnight, but it all happened because of the combination of the pain from the loss of my dad and the strong desire for something different.  I lost 55 pounds, my health improved, and my doctors were beyond thrilled, and I chose to invest more time with my family, taking advantage of what I could.  As my oldest son left the house this morning to return to Tennessee because they needed him back a week early, I was filled with gratitude for the time we did get to spend and look forward to the next opportunity.  Pain, something we all do our best to avoid, forced change, something we also tend to avoid, to improve my life, which all want but often aren’t willing to do the work to make happen.

I changed my career.  As somebody who spent 25 years working in the Jewish non-profit sector, it was something I enjoyed and something that was core to my identity.  I had thought of doing something else many times but never actually made it happen.  Fear?  Insecurity?  Uncertainty?  Change is often forced upon us and then we have the choice to rise to the challenge or not.  I’m excited about the new future and what it means.  I have more time with my family, more time to address improving my health and fitness.  Less stress.  When my mom said to me, “I was waiting to get the call that you had a heart attack.” it was a wake-up call.  It’s a new future ahead with things I cannot foresee and yet, I am more excited about it than I have been in a long while.  Change can be scary and exhilarating, uncertain and exciting.  How we choose to approach it, what our attitude is and what we are willing to often determine our success. 

October 7 was a sea change for me and many others.  As I watched the news unfold, as I communicated with friends and family in Israel via WhatsApp during the day, I was horrified, scared, angry, and stunned.  I’ll never forget the video of people murdered in their cars and they zoomed in on a minivan with the father, dead and slumped forward on the steering wheel while his young daughter, clinging to his back, was slumped dead against him.  It’s a horrifying image that is burned into my brain.  I saw the 47-minute Hamas video and those images are forever in my memory.  I have connections through friends to at least four hostages who thankfully have been returned to Israel.  October 7 was deeply personal in a way I never expected or wanted.

As somebody who was already a very public Jew due to my career, being more public wasn’t a real change.  But choosing to invest in being Jewish in my actions was something I could do.  I had begun learning with a Rabbi and have continued to do that weekly with a bigger zest and interest.  Sometimes I’ll even learn with 2 Rabbis in a week because it’s interesting to hear different perspectives.  My tefillin is out and gets used (not daily as some change comes slowly).  I don’t identify with any particular denomination any longer – I am a Jew and that’s enough.    I am not a jewelry person, yet I bought a new Mogen David (Star of David) from Israel that has the State of Israel as the center of the star and wear it proudly and visible when many others are feeling the need to keep theirs hidden due to safety concerns.  I have ordered some additional pieces from Israel, both for my own identity and to support Israeli artists.  The guy who hates jewelry is now wearing Jewish jewelry. 

I have always been somebody who felt that people were the most important thing in the world.  Throughout my life and my career, I have always invested in people.   I have some long term friends that I have known literally all my life to those who I’ve been friends with for 20 and 30 years.  My kids often joke about their ‘relatives’ that aren’t really related to them.  Alice and Jerry (z’l), Amy, Gabi, Karen, and their kids.   Uncle Aric and Aunt Carol.  My best friend Todd.  Ron and Sandy z’l (z’l).  It’s very common for them to not ask ‘how are we related?’ but ‘are we really related?’ when these names come up. 

I have people that I have worked with from 25 years ago that I still keep in touch with and are still friends.  These relationships are ones that I treasure (and those who worked with me or were students at UF when I was at Hillel or at Federation in Seattle or the JCC or Federation in Orlando know exactly what I mean and who you are.)  We still talk on a regular basis, sometimes out of the blue and sometimes every few weeks.  While not a change, my commitment to people has increased in the last year.  Investing in them.  Helping them.  Being their friend regardless of anything else.  October 7th reminded me just how precious those friendships are.  The messages on my birthday reminded me how precious those friendships are.  People reaching out after my dad died made me realize how incredibly luck and wealthy I am, not because of money or things, but because of people.  My career shift highlighted the people who reached out to talk and ask questions.  Here are just four examples from the past 5 days that highlight this (I could give many more):

  1. Thursday I spent an hour on a zoom with my friend Harriet. For the past 3 years or so we meet on zoom every week to talk about life, work, stress, family, and the just be friends. It started as part of a cohort and we just never stopped. It’s often the highlight of my week just for the personal connection.
  2. Friday I spent an hour on a zoom with my friend Shelley, catching up on life, talking about our families, our other friends, our careers, things we have considered doing, things we are doing, and just being together for the hour enjoying each others company.
  3. Monday I reached out to a number of friends to wish them a Merry Christmas.  One of them, Jamal, let me know that he is writing a book that will be published in 2024 and that he references me in the book and will share it with me before it’s published.  I was beyond humbled and overwhelmed by this.
  4. About a week ago, I messaged my friend Yaron, who is a leader in the IDF reserves that I know is on the front line in Gaza.  I didn’t expect a prompt reply, or maybe any reply, because of what he is tasked with doing.  Monday he replied, apologizing for the delay, which also humbled me.  He is currently the operations officer for the Gaza Division so you can imagine what he is living.  While he will never talk about it, I heard from other friends that on October 7th, he grabbed his gun and raced into the fight against the Hamas terrorists, helping defend Israelis by taking on the terrorists.  He thanked me for reaching out, for keeping him in my thoughts and that he mattered that much to me.  We messaged and began making plans to get together after the war, both when I am in Israel and when he is in the United States.  His heroism awes me. The fact that my message to him, asking about him and hoping he is ok and safe and that the war ends both successfully and soon, meant so much to him is proof of the power of people.

At the end of the day, change isn’t easy or fun, but is rewarding.  People are the key to change.  The relationships we build today can last a lifetime.  They help us get through change.  They help us get through the pain of things like losing a parent, a massacre on October 7th, dealing with a war where friends are on the front lines, and the challenges of daily life.  As we come to the close of 2023, I find myself most proud of three things.

  1. The relationship with my parents and my siblings.
  2. The relationship with my wife and children.
  3. The relationship with my friends, colleagues, and former students.

No amount of money can enter the top 3.  No amount of success can enter the top 3.  Nothing material truly matters until after those 3.  I’m humbled and grateful and look forward to a better 2024.