Friendship is a wonderful and strange thing. We do get to pick our friends although sometimes, our friends pick us. We have childhood friends that we lose touch with and those we stay in contact with. Sometimes our best friends of our youth are no longer part of our life and sometimes we lose touch for years and when we reconnect it’s like no time passed at all. Sometimes people flash into our life, make an impact, and then they are gone. Sometimes we have friends for our entire life. Friendship is dynamic, it’s not static. Friendship is something that is active and takes work.
I got a text Saturday night, letting me know that there was a good chance that a friend of mine had died. It was sudden. It was unexpected. I reached out to somebody who would know if it was true, and sadly it was. It’s a very strange, modern, Covid friendship. We only ever met in person 3 times. Yet the loss is profound.
I’m not sure how Zev found me on Facebook during Covid. Likely through a friend of a friend. He reached out about some things we were doing and thoughts I had shared. We began chatting on Facebook messenger and sharing thoughts and ideas about the Jewish community. For two years we had a virtual friendship. In December 2022, I was invited to the White House Hanukkah party and was heading to DC. It was my first trip since Covid and the first time since Zev and I ‘met’ on social media. We made plans to meet for dinner and finally got to meet in person.
My son Matthew was with me and the three of us had a great dinner filled with interesting conversation. We talked about Matthew’s college experience, how Covid impacted his high school years, the challenges of the organized Jewish community, the decline in synagogue membership, what Jewish life could look like, things in Israel (this was pre-October 7), and much more. We spent a few hours eating and talking and building our friendship.
When I returned to Orlando after the party, we continued to keep in touch. We would email, Facebook message, and talk on the phone. When Cantor Azi Schwartz performed at a synagogue gala, we discussed the role of music in prayer. A year or so later, he and his family commissioned a special musical score for MIZMOR L’DAVID: A PSALM OF DAVID by Sam Glaser at his synagogue, Adas Israel. Of course one of the senior Rabbis there is a long time friend and the Cantor there is the wife of another good friend. The Jewish world is small and Zev made it smaller. After October 7th, we had more to talk about. The conversation was always easy and flowed naturally.
Earlier this year, I was in DC for the AIPAC Policy Summit. I stayed a few days extra for some work with a client. One of the people we met with was Zev. I thought he would be interested in the project and would also provide some good feedback and suggestions. He did both. He financially supported the project and gave some great feedback that helped our messaging. He made some suggestions of other people to meet with and share information about the project. That’s who Zev was, a person who got involved and wanted to make a difference.
The last time I saw Zev was just a few weeks ago. I was back in DC to do some work with a different client. Zev and I planned to meet for lunch as my hotel was a short walk from his home. We had a great lunch, great conversation, and he was interested in the work of this client, agreeing to support them. I had another client doing work I thought he might be interested in and after lunch, sent him some of their Israeli wine to taste. In typical Zev fashion, he didn’t want me to spend money on him but I sent it anyway. We walked back to my hotel, continuing our conversation, and said goodbye in the lobby, making plans to meet again in 2025.
We emailed after that visit. He enjoyed the wine. He shared some things he was concerned about and wanted my thought on. It seemed like everything was going great for him and I looked forward to our next meeting. Unfortunately that will now never happen.
Zev and me in DC at the beginning of December. He passed away less than 3 weeks later.
Friendship is like that. It can be fleeting and it can be lasting. We never know where our friends will come from. A life lesson that I have learned is that we may think we know who our friends are and then life shows up. The people who show up then are our real friends. People I thought were friends have shown me they were really acquaintances. And people I didn’t think were good friends have shown me that they really are good friends. I’ve learned not to pre-judge anybody.
Zev was a real friend, even though we only met in person 3 times. I’m grateful that we met because of Covid and that he became a part of my life. I’m sad that he is gone, yet the things we discussed and the passion for Jewish life and the Jewish community we shared will remain a part of me forever. While he may be gone from this earth, his impact is not. He changed many people’s lives with his friendship, his committment to making a difference and being a light to the world. As a mutual friend of ours said to me after Zev passed, the Jewish people and the Jewish community were his children.
Thank you Zev for reaching out on Facebook back in 2020. Thank you for sharing who you are with me. Thank you for inviting me into your life and being my friend. You are greatly missed. זיכרונו לברכה (ichrono livrakha). May your memory always be a blessing.
Matthew, Zev, and me at our first meeting in person
There are many things we take as truth ‘just because’. Rituals we do because that’s what we were taught, without understanding the why or the intention behind them. Things we accept as fact, once again, ‘just because’. We live in a time where we no longer have that luxury.
On the English calendar, my dad died on September 6, 2022. I will always remember him on that day. In addition, the Hebrew calendar (which is lunar) means that his yartzheit (remembrance of the day he died) is different. It was the 11th of the month of Elul. This year the 11th of Elul began last night (Friday night) and it is all day today. Being in Israel and staying in a hotel, I wanted to think how to best remember and honor him. Typically I would light the yartzheit candle that burns for 24 hours and use that to reflect. Being in a hotel, lighting the candle wouldn’t be possible.
It was also Shabbat (the sabbath). This added an additional opportunity and compexity. What would I be doing Friday night and with whom? And then Saturday would be a completely free day to reflect – what an opportunity! The first answer came quickly. My friends Margot and Tamar invited me to their new home in Modi’in (the just moved there from Jerusalem) to enjoy Shabbat with their family. I always see Margot when I am in Jerusalem, so the chance to see their new home, see Tamar and their beautiful 3 children, was something I couldn’t pass up. An added bonus was Margot’s parents were visiting along with another friend of theirs from Jerusalem.
The last time I got to spend time with Margot and Tamar’s kids was about 2 1/2 years ago. During that visit, the two older ones put on costumes and ran around playing while the youngest had already fallen asleep. Remembering how much they loved costumes, I brainstormed with Margot about what they would want and got them special presents. I couldn’t wait to give them their presents and see the joy on their faces. It was something very much in the spirit of my dad – bringing happiness and joy to people was so important to him.
The excitement of the costumes was as I hoped. They put them on and ran around. It was so much fun to watch their faces and hear their voices.
Black Panther, Spiderman, and Red.
I smiled as I watched their joy. It was a fitting way to honor my dad. He loved children and loved making people happy. As they talked excitedly to me, especially Halleli as Red, I was filled with his presence. I felt like him with his grandchildren, paying full attention to them and validating their excitement with his listening. We laughed, we sang and we danced. Margot and Halleli did a dance together that was fun to watch. Halleli danced by herself for us. The joy was palpable. Yartzheit’s and remember those we have lost is usually sad and somber. I’m grateful that this year, on my dad’s 2nd Yartzheit, he joined us in spirit by making it fun and full of light. It was his spirit and the way he lived that infused Friday night. As Tamar drove me back to my hotel in Tel Aviv we had an in depth conversation about the impact of the war on her and Margot, on other parents, and especially on children. It was a reminder to me of not just what Margot and Tamar and other Israeli parents are doing to protect their children but all the things that my parents did to protect my siblings and me. I was filled with gratitude. It was far better and more meaningful than simply lighting a candle.
Margot and Halleli dancing
The day of my dad’s yartzheit (Saturday) I had a slow morning of rest and relaxation. I then spent the day on the beach with some new friends. It was a great day to celebrate life. That’s what my dad did, celebrated life. It was a different way to honor his memory this year. It was also very meaningful because it was about the essense of who he was. It was about his values (family) and happiness and enjoying life. It felt right. It felt good. And I felt him with me the entire time. ‘Just because’ you are supposed to light a candle for remembrance isn’t enough. I lived the day as my dad would have, truly remembering and honoring him.
One of my favorite pictures of my dad and me
I’m currently in Israel. The past few days I have been in Tel Aviv and enjoying the weather, the beach, the Mediterranean, delicious food, and time with friends and colleagues. A group of new friends went to dinner on the beach and it was amazing to learn how interconnected we were. The food was good, the company better, and the view of the beach spectacular. Later, we sat on the roof last night talking about Israel, perceptions, safety, and much more. It was a beautiful night. The weather was cool, the sky was clear, you could see and hear the Mediterranean. We talked about the beauty of Israel. How safe we felt. Our love for the country. Some of us were here for the first time. Some for multiple times. Some were Jewish and some were not. What a diverse group. Around midnight our group broke up and I walked back to my hotel.
A few hours later my phone rang. It was my oldest son. It woke me from a deep sleep and I immediately answered. His voice was full of excitement as the team he coaches had just won a big road game and for the second week in a row, the part he coaches played a key role in them winning. It was awesome that he wanted to call me to share his joy. I didn’t mind that it was 4 am for me – the fact he wanted to share this joy with me right after the game ended meant the world. This was my dad’s dream – that his children would have that type of relationship with their children. That his children would remain close as adults. I shared in his joy with immense gratitude. Does life really get any better than your children having success and joy and wanting to share it with you? I don’t think so. I know my dad didn’t think so.
On the field after the first home game – nothing comes close to celebrating your children’s happiness and success.
I fell back asleep and a few hours later, when I woke up, I saw messages from friends in the US asking what was going on and if I was safe. I wasn’t sure what they meant since it was quiet in Tel Aviv and I slept well. I opened my WhatsApp to see what was going on and saw this:
I understood why they were worried and reaching out. Thankfully the rockets and the alerts did not reach Tel Aviv. It didn’t impact my sleep nor did I have to go to the 2nd floor saferoom in the hotel (yes, there is one, and yes, I know where it is). The rockets and the sirens did reach Modi’in, where I have many friends and where I had Shabbat dinner this week. I checked on my friends and they are all safe, just a bit flustered from the 6:30 am sirens and going to their safe rooms, getting their children and sometimes parents into the safe room, in the time alotted for safety. I responded to my friends that reached out that I was safe and we had no sirens. Even though it was around midnight on the East Coast of the US, I texted my family, brother and sister, and mom to let them know we had no sirens and I am safe. Hopefully it didn’t wake them up and they can have a restful sleep and see it when they wake up.
A rocket did hit part of the train station in Modi’in. In May, I was at that train station. If the trains ran later on Friday afternoons (they close just after 2 pm for Shabbat), I’d have been there on Friday afternoon. This is the reality of terrorism, Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthi’s and the head of the snake, Iran. This is what Tamar and I were discussing on the ride to my hotel Friday night. How does she explain this to her young children? How do she and Margot deal with the stress of parenting plus parenting in a war plus shielding their children and keeping them safe, physically, emotionaly, and spiritually. Most people understand that the IDF soldiers, the families of hostages, the rescued hostages, and those who lost loved ones on October 7th or afterwards, are struggling. The reality is the entire country is struggling. You feel the struggle when you are here. The recovery will take a long time after the war ends. Tamar and I discussed that on our ride from Modi’in to Tel Aviv. While we are seeing the greatest generation of Israelis step up in this time of crisis, there are other generations that are doing the best they can in these circumstances to survive, to live, to protect their children. The repurcussions of this war are long standing. There is a deep wound in the Israeli psyche and the Israeli people that will need to heal. Those of us in the diaspora need to understand this and help as much as we can. Coming to Israel is part of that support. As diaspora Jews, we do not understand the power of our coming to Israel during this time and the message it sends to our Israeli brothers and sisters. To know they are not alone now is critical. I have been here three (3) times since May. The thanks that I get, and the shock from many that I would come to a war zone at all, let alone 3 times, is powerful. Our Israeli brothers and sisters need us. They need our support. I urge you to come. More will be coming from me in the very near future about new ways to get here that are meaningful and affordable. It matters.
Escalator at the train station in Modi’in after a rocket hit the station
Our choices determine who we are. My dad taught me that. It’s what we do, not what we say. He taught me that too. I have lived my life in a way that when my grandchildren ask what I did at key moments, there are answers that I will proud for my children to share with them. On 9/11 I was active and helping address the trauma the UF students were dealing with. During Covid I was active in helping ensure we found ways to being back our employees quickly and provide needed services. After October 7th I made sure to be at the rally in DC, I got active with helping hostages that were released, and helping Israel. I have come here 3 times since October 7, brought students on a leadership trip, and am working with Israeli nonprofits that help children, families, small businesses, US college students, and families of hostages.
“Just because” isn’t good enough. It’s no longer acceptable. Each of us have the ability to make a difference with our actions. A friend of mine in Richmond posted this message on Facebook about a fraternity brother and me being in Israel together with a picture of us here.
Two past Richmonders who are amazing Israel advocates who don’t just talk the talk but are constantly walking the walk and using social media to share their experience! This is so much more powerful than the ho hum talk of people who lead without their personal investment and family involvement. We need THIS here!
We need this everywhere. Take action. You can. The status quo does not have be accepted. In my dad’s memory, I refuse to be silent. I refuse to sit by idly. I refuse to accept the unacceptable and will fight for the future of the Jewish people, the land of Israel, and the type of world not only that I want to live in but one that I want for my future grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I owe them no less. My grandparents did if for me, how can I not do it for mine?
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