My Dad

My dad's law school notebooks were works of art. There were two columns on each page. On one side, his thoughts on the case he had just read. On the other, the points the professor stressed in class on the same matter. Testaments to discipline and clarity.

My father graduated first in his class from NYU law school. At the age of 21. He had combined his last year of college at that university with the initial law school year. And, oh by the way, he also found a moment or two to become an All-American fencer.

I like to think I inherited some of my dad's wonderful qualities, but his humbleness was not among them. My blog, and my ALL BOLD notice of any accomplishment, is in stark contrast to the quiet way in which the best of his universe of excellence existed. 

My son not only shares my dad's name but also his focus, academic capacity and an absolute intention never to trumpet himself to others. These are qualities I find most endearing in him and serve as daily reminder of a person he never met.

My dad died 44 years ago today. I try not to let the anniversary of his passing go without speaking of him to any audience that will listen. He was a man of great worth and he deserves our continued attention.

We do not get to choose our parents, but I feel as if I won the lottery of serendipity with him (and my mom). I don't know if time allows us to paper over blemishes and imperfections, but I have never believed this necessary for me in my recollections of my father. 

My dad's lawbooks are still here, still serving as statement of a mind uncluttered, of the focus and precision that he possessed. Not a day passes in which I don't remember the person who took those notes, the one whose handwriting, and guidance was so legible and immaculate. 

I carry in my head and heart my own notebook of him. As clear today as it was 44 years ago. I am indeed a very fortunate child.