I’m the daughter of a rabbi — one who is renowned around town (and beyond it) as the best of the best. I’ve been asked often, “What’s it like?”
It’s pretty much the best.
When your dad exudes pure, brilliant wisdom on a daily basis through talks, sermons and in even the most casual coffee or cocktail conversation, it’s intimidating to summarize the values he’s instilled in you. So, I won’t try to summarize. I’ll just scratch the surface.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
Family comes first
I’m fortunate for my photographic memory that takes me back to my early childhood. I’ll never forget — because it was my favorite part of the day — our family dinner every single night. As leader of our region’s largest Reform Jewish congregation, my dad worked (and still works) around the clock. 8-5 at the office meant 6-8 in meetings or events and emails until midnight. However, even if only 15 minutes long, or even if beginning at 5:15 p.m., we ate as a family for dinner daily. My mom gets the medal for finding Dad’s free window and making the meal possible — but, in he’d rush, and down we’d sit, and together we’d eat. No matter how hard or busy the day, no excuses. I am so grateful for that consistency. In fact, I find it to be a guiding reason why I fell in love with cooking as a kid. I’d look forward to dinner with Dad and the family so much that I’d start to help cook and prepare it.
When I look at my current plate and the excuses I often make to push off a dedicated sit-down meal with Alex, I look to Dad for his unwavering priority of family time.
Acknowledge the highs and lows
During said dinners, Dad would ask us to go around and share our high and low of the day. Cheesy, yes — but to prompt a reflection that celebrates our best and, at the same time, forces us to face the failed variables of our day is so powerful.
I wish I still took the time to articulate those high points and lows. No matter how casual or brief, the daily diligence is a beautiful practice.
Maximize every encounter
As kids, we’d roll our eyes every time we’d enter a restaurant and see a familiar face. Why? Because Dad can’t just do the “wave and walk by.” No, Dad stops to greet the table and continues to ask five questions about their family. He’d typically sat down at our table after so long that Mom would order his drink.
I would become so impatient when I was younger. Now, I see how incredibly meaningful that conversation might be for that table. Dad puts his whole heart into every interaction as if it’s the last. I admire it.
“Do the most that you can with the time that you have in the place where you are.”
I remember hearing this quote from a sermon of Dad’s decades ago. Somehow, it’s stuck with me since. I hear him say it in my head as I approach every new opportunity, relationship and challenge.
It’s not about wanting “more” — it’s about making the “most” of the circumstance. Dad has taught me the clear difference.