I didn’t know my Opa for very long, but while I did know him, he was pretty great. He was always full of philosophical wisdom, such as, poop happens. Upon the news of his death, I had a bit of a conversation with myself, about everything I had ever done or ever known about him. It was the little things that were my Opa’s way of showing love that I kept coming back to.
Bedtime snack, our time, where we could sit and chat or not; algebra homework, where we would argue about the value of x and whether the answer to problem 36a was 42 or 24. His valiant attempts to teach me to sail, while I privately thought it was as boring as sin. His presence was always felt, even if he didn’t say anything, but when he said something, you better listen up, and on the whole, he was usually right. I remember every year at Hanukah we would get together to make something, the girls made one thing and the boys another. He would always give each kid a fair chance, even though some of us weren’t sure which end of a hammer was up. I tell you all of this as my own personal experiences with my Opa, as I knew very little about his childhood up until recently.
One very distinct memory was when he and my Mommom went on their trip around America. In our little apartment in Pittsford, I tracked their travels carefully on a U.S map as they sent me postcards. My Opa liked to travel, I think. And he gave really good hugs, great big belly hugs that squished you like a stress ball. I was the only one who could make him laugh by tickling his beard. He liked to travel and sail and build things, and a thousand other things I knew, but never really thought about He was smart and kind and couldn’t hold a grudge if he wanted to. His grandchildren, myself included, could do no wrong. We would take rides up the heavy side lair in his tractor, and pick raspberries. Even in the dead of winter, he was never cold. Even though I only got to know my Opa for 14 years, if you stretched out each moment with him, it would go on forever.
All of these things may not seem like much, but there are what made my Opa Opa, and it’s what I’ve got to hold onto of him, and while I’ll remember the stories and the pictures and the facts; this is what is going to stick. The things that made him Opa.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Memories of Opa - By Jacob Herz (age 9)
I know nothing about Opa’s (Jim’s) childhood but I do know about him after I was born. Opa taught me two things: Sailing and building.
I started with sailing. When I first saw his boat it fascinated me. We drove to the nearest lake. We stepped into the sailboat and sailed off. I stayed near all the item’s so I could give them to Opa. We stayed for about a half an hour. I still remember it to this day.
Next was building. This was my favorite thing to do with him. The first thing I had built with him was a birdhouse. I also built a toolbox, a marble drop and a mini golf course. He also taught me how to use tools like a hammer to put a sign on the mailbox for a party and to take it off. He also taught me to use a drill to make holes in wood, so I could put screws into. I also like to get candy apples with Opa and practice driving the tractor in the driveway.
I started with sailing. When I first saw his boat it fascinated me. We drove to the nearest lake. We stepped into the sailboat and sailed off. I stayed near all the item’s so I could give them to Opa. We stayed for about a half an hour. I still remember it to this day.
Next was building. This was my favorite thing to do with him. The first thing I had built with him was a birdhouse. I also built a toolbox, a marble drop and a mini golf course. He also taught me how to use tools like a hammer to put a sign on the mailbox for a party and to take it off. He also taught me to use a drill to make holes in wood, so I could put screws into. I also like to get candy apples with Opa and practice driving the tractor in the driveway.
Shrek and Layers of an onion - Lisa Herz McCarthy
When most people think of my father they don’t typically think of him, or generally relate him, to a cartoon character or worse yet a Disney character. I think my dad was most like Shrek. Not that he was an ogre, but he could be. Stubborn. Obstinate. Hard headed. Right. Certain of himself.
However, my dad had many layers. Like an onion. As a youth in Queens, he was active in Boy Scouts achieving the rank of Eagle Scout. It was in Boy Scouts that he met Bob Fromowitz. Little did they know that at the ripe age of 10 that this was the beginning of a nearly 60 year friendship. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, I don’t think either of them would change a thing. This is two layers of the onion.
After high school and graduating from Brooklyn Tech, he and Mom moved to Binghamton. I think it was not long after Dad met Bob, he met Mom. They, Mom & Dad, got married twice.
The first time was in December 1964 by a Justice of the Peace. Mom was a bit weary that it didn’t take and insisted on being married by a Rabbi, which they did in April 1965. They bought the property and built a house on Morgan Road. Mom has a picture of herself being incredibly pregnant with me. My arrival in May 1966. In March of 1969 Jeff arrived. More layers to the onion.
My father could not fathom my lack of concrete sequential thinking. My freshman year in high school, I took my New York State Regents exam in math. Logic was the subject. If p then q = who cares. I didn’t. I had an amazing math teacher that year who began to build a bridge between my father and I that I would not appreciate until many years later when the college I attended told me that unless I took statistics I would not graduate. For me this was a potential crushing defeat. So I registered for summer school to take just that stupid statistics class. I sat in the car, registration form in hand with a start date of the following Monday. I collected myself and called my father. Not only did he have the necessary calming effect on me, but during the first week we spoke by telephone almost every day. Those phone calls were tutorial in nature and help with my homework. Not once did we raise our voices. A sweetness to the onion.
Dad was a lifelong boater. He told me stories of being a Boy Scout and sailing in Sheepshead Bay. When we went to one of the Fromowitz boys bar mitzvah we stayed in a hot sheets hotel in or near sheepshead bay. The looks we got from the guy that checked us in. More layers to the onion.
So, now a boating story. One summer, I don’t remember how old Jeff and I were, but I was old enough to drive. Jeff and I had gone to school on Friday and I was allowed to drive us to school. We went to school packed to go to the lake for the weekend. There was a rendezvous at Troy’s Marina. Our directions were, go to school (and yes Mom probably checked to make sure we arrived at school and were there all day) then go to Johnsons boat yard right after school. We were to take the boat to the north end of the lake and the parental units would drive to Troys after work and join the festivities. Jeff and I made ready the USS Ragtime, motored out the channel, hoisted sails and beat feet up the lake. It was an awesome day for a sail and were smoking up the lake. Well, ok, for Cayuga Lake we were really steaming along. We took the crook at Ma Fords and set course for Milligan station. As we approached this bend in the lake we noticed a change in the forecast. We took appropriate measures to sail through the rain and increased wind we correctly anticipated as we sailed into crumby weather. The weather cleared, we shook out the sails and continued on.
As we approached Troy’s Marina, we radioed ashore, Mom and Dad were motored out to help us anchor. Then we were all transported ashore for the bar-b-cue and other festivities. Bedtime rolls around and we are motored back to Ragtime. We ready for bed and the Ogre bellowed. Of all the things that could have gone wrong trusting 2 teen agers to transport Dad’s second largest investment the length of Cayuga Lake it was his window that we forgot to close during this torrential rain storm. More layers to the onion.
As sure as I am standing here sharing but a few stories of a man with you, I am just as sure you have your own stories of an Ogre and an onion. Boy scouts, work, power squadron, supporter of academic endeavors, supporter of our athletic activities, participant in a multitude of ways at Temple Concord, mental and emotional strength, optimism. Synonyms for more layers to the onion that was my father. Character traits in a man, of a man, who tried, with much success, to share with his wife and instill in his children. In the coming days, weeks and months, please share your stories, recollections and memories with us. Stories of the essence of who my father is, was and wanted to be. For in the future Mom, Jeff, Nancy and I will need to be as diligent as he was in passing these characteristics on to our children.
However, my dad had many layers. Like an onion. As a youth in Queens, he was active in Boy Scouts achieving the rank of Eagle Scout. It was in Boy Scouts that he met Bob Fromowitz. Little did they know that at the ripe age of 10 that this was the beginning of a nearly 60 year friendship. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, I don’t think either of them would change a thing. This is two layers of the onion.
After high school and graduating from Brooklyn Tech, he and Mom moved to Binghamton. I think it was not long after Dad met Bob, he met Mom. They, Mom & Dad, got married twice.
The first time was in December 1964 by a Justice of the Peace. Mom was a bit weary that it didn’t take and insisted on being married by a Rabbi, which they did in April 1965. They bought the property and built a house on Morgan Road. Mom has a picture of herself being incredibly pregnant with me. My arrival in May 1966. In March of 1969 Jeff arrived. More layers to the onion.
My father could not fathom my lack of concrete sequential thinking. My freshman year in high school, I took my New York State Regents exam in math. Logic was the subject. If p then q = who cares. I didn’t. I had an amazing math teacher that year who began to build a bridge between my father and I that I would not appreciate until many years later when the college I attended told me that unless I took statistics I would not graduate. For me this was a potential crushing defeat. So I registered for summer school to take just that stupid statistics class. I sat in the car, registration form in hand with a start date of the following Monday. I collected myself and called my father. Not only did he have the necessary calming effect on me, but during the first week we spoke by telephone almost every day. Those phone calls were tutorial in nature and help with my homework. Not once did we raise our voices. A sweetness to the onion.
Dad was a lifelong boater. He told me stories of being a Boy Scout and sailing in Sheepshead Bay. When we went to one of the Fromowitz boys bar mitzvah we stayed in a hot sheets hotel in or near sheepshead bay. The looks we got from the guy that checked us in. More layers to the onion.
So, now a boating story. One summer, I don’t remember how old Jeff and I were, but I was old enough to drive. Jeff and I had gone to school on Friday and I was allowed to drive us to school. We went to school packed to go to the lake for the weekend. There was a rendezvous at Troy’s Marina. Our directions were, go to school (and yes Mom probably checked to make sure we arrived at school and were there all day) then go to Johnsons boat yard right after school. We were to take the boat to the north end of the lake and the parental units would drive to Troys after work and join the festivities. Jeff and I made ready the USS Ragtime, motored out the channel, hoisted sails and beat feet up the lake. It was an awesome day for a sail and were smoking up the lake. Well, ok, for Cayuga Lake we were really steaming along. We took the crook at Ma Fords and set course for Milligan station. As we approached this bend in the lake we noticed a change in the forecast. We took appropriate measures to sail through the rain and increased wind we correctly anticipated as we sailed into crumby weather. The weather cleared, we shook out the sails and continued on.
As we approached Troy’s Marina, we radioed ashore, Mom and Dad were motored out to help us anchor. Then we were all transported ashore for the bar-b-cue and other festivities. Bedtime rolls around and we are motored back to Ragtime. We ready for bed and the Ogre bellowed. Of all the things that could have gone wrong trusting 2 teen agers to transport Dad’s second largest investment the length of Cayuga Lake it was his window that we forgot to close during this torrential rain storm. More layers to the onion.
As sure as I am standing here sharing but a few stories of a man with you, I am just as sure you have your own stories of an Ogre and an onion. Boy scouts, work, power squadron, supporter of academic endeavors, supporter of our athletic activities, participant in a multitude of ways at Temple Concord, mental and emotional strength, optimism. Synonyms for more layers to the onion that was my father. Character traits in a man, of a man, who tried, with much success, to share with his wife and instill in his children. In the coming days, weeks and months, please share your stories, recollections and memories with us. Stories of the essence of who my father is, was and wanted to be. For in the future Mom, Jeff, Nancy and I will need to be as diligent as he was in passing these characteristics on to our children.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Eulogy for Jim Herz
I hope I can get through this, like my father I have a hard exterior, but we are actually soft and mushy on this inside. I am doubting it very much, but here are two quotes that will help me get started:
As I am standing here, that I have not been on this bima since I was bar Mitzvah’d. For those of you that were not here, just remember I did not make that invite list. For those of you that were here then, what took you so long to come back?
Seriously, it is both the happy and the sad moments that most often brings us together.
It was on that March day, 29 years ago, when my parents stood here and delivered their first serious talk to me. It was not about the birds and the bees; I am still waiting for that discussion, but rather about how they felt about me on that special day. When they finished, they handed me a type written copy of their heartfelt words they had just delivered so I would always have a copy. As a typical 13 year old boy, I did not comprehend or understand the message. I was probably thinking about girls, or if I would be able to sneak a drink at the bar at the reception afterwards. Unfortunately within a few short months that hard copy disappeared too. Their words were eventually erased from my memory forever. I looked for the speech occasionally through the years before I went to college and moved out of the house on Morgan Road, but to no avail. Remember, this was before the digital age, when there were no flash drives or hard drives, or writable floppy disks to store those words forever. Today, as I stand here again, I wish I had a copy of those words to remind me of their thoughts on that day as I stand here again remembering my father. Here is what I would like to think they said: I am a man now, they are so proud of me for what I had just accomplished. They told me how the future was wide open for me. I should seek out opportunities and know that the world was my oyster (Am I even allowed to talk about shellfish in synagogue?). I now stand before you, his family, his friends and his community to say goodbye. Too sudden! Too soon!
It was just over 60 hours ago that Nancy and I received the call I think all of us dread. At that moment, as we were more stunned and shocked to comprehend what had just occurred, I realized that I would need to come back and speak again. To talk about my father in the past tense before it seemed to be his time. Just a few weeks back in January, before they went to Panama he talked about how he was having the time of his life, how he wanted to travel now while he was still healthy, since one never knows what the future holds. When he got back, there was an unbridled enthusiasm in his voice about going to visit Lisa and Katy in Vermont and visit my family in CT this week. In fact my parents were supposed to be in their car travelling down I-91 right now. No one expected us to be here, not now.
For those of you that don’t know, my father and I have spent a great deal of time building upon the family tree that was originally created by his mother before she passed away. He was actually in the process of writing his autobiography to be included in the family tree. Luckily he was able to complete his life’s story right up until he got married, so we will all always have that as a reference point for his formative years. Unfortunately it now up to my mother to complete this work, in what will inevitably be considered the unauthorized biography of Jim Herz.
In doing this genealogical research, we had recently become acquainted with a distant cousin who was going to be visiting family here in the US and Canada in June. When he expressed an interest in meeting with us, I suggested we meet at my parent’s house here in Binghamton. My father then started to reach out to all descendents of his great-grandfather in order to invite them to this cousin club gathering. He put together the list and wrote the letter inviting them to come to here, and to be reacquainted. He spoke with many of them directly asking if they had updates on distant cousins that he had fallen out of touch with and to just to catch up with others. It is sadly ironic that he was able to reestablish some of these links before this occurred. It was important to him that as the oldest living male in the Herz family to have this opportunity to bring the extended family back together.
Just like his Uncle Erich he also felt a great sense of pride knowing he now has two grandsons, Jacob and Owen who can carry on the Herz name for at least another generation. I know (As you heard) Jacob is very sad today as he was planning on coming here this summer to learn how to sail and do woodwork in Opa’s shop. Owen and I will now have an unfortunate link in that both of our Opa’s passed away when we were too young to remember and sadly will have little or know remembrance of our grandfathers beyond stories and pictures. Owen still does not understand what has happened as each day has woken up and asked where Opa was.
Now his granddaughters are a completely different story. Both Katy and Mollie were the apple of his eye. He viewed them both as his angels, his princesses. Although he would not admit it, he loved going to their dance recitals and watching them perform. He enjoyed giving them a little more dessert after dinner, or to defend them if they were misbehaving, which of course rarely happened. This was certainly no behavior which Lisa or I ever witnessed when we were children. He finally seemed to be comfortable in his role of grandfather.
When I was a kid, Dad did not come to many of my sporting events. He always seemed to be working, if not at Singer Link, then for one of the many organizations where he dedicated his time and efforts. He never sat still, was always involved in something. Organizations include the Temple, the Fire Company, the Jewish Cemetery, the Power Squadron, Ham Radio, and most recently building the Center for Innovative Technology including rebuilding one of the original the Blue Box simulators.
As a kid, I always resented that he spent more time at work than with his family. I would wonder why he couldn’t spend more time and being a more involved father. What I now realize, as a father myself, is that it is not always easy to make that choice. We have professional responsibilities that too often conflict or overtake our personal responsibilities. It is a balance that is too often weighs in the direction of work. As I have grown older, and maybe more wise, I have come to realize that I may not have always agreed with the choices he made, but I certainly understand why he made those choices. He was motivated to build the best home life he could for the entire family. He provided us the opportunity to go sailing all summer long on Cayuga Lake, vacations on Lake Ontario and bareboat charters in the Virgin Islands. He put Lisa and I through college. He made a choice and it was the right choice for all of us, in his own way he has always put family first. I may not have always agreed, but I certainly understand that now more than ever.
What is most amazing to me is that he was married at 23 and a father at 24. Honestly, I can still barely take care of myself to this day and most certainly was not ready for a wife and kids when I was 24. Thank goodness I found Nancy or I might still be wondering around, unable to match my clothes or send thank you notes.
He never watched sports on TV. I only have two recollections of him watching TV and they both involve perhaps the two best World Series moments in recent history. In 1986, we were sitting in our living room; I think we were rooting for the Mets, as I could never see myself rooting for the Red Sox. When the ball dribbled between Buckner’s legs, my father actually jumped out of his chair and started celebrating, something I do all the time when the Yankees, or Steelers or Rangers score, but it was not something I have never seen him do before or since. Then in 1991, we were at a cousin’s bar mitzvah and staying in the basement of their house. So we turned on Game 7 and watched Jack Morris battle Jon Smoltz through 10 shutout innings in one of the best pitching duels ever. I will always cherish and remember those two games for the rest of my life, not because the Mets or the Twins won in the end but because I got to watch them and make a lifelong memory with my Dad.
When I first started thinking about getting up here today, about 1 am Wednesday morning, my mind was absolutely blank. What was I going to say? Others in this position often have time to prepare, to think and plan. Not us. I wish I had more time, not to think about what I would say if this happened in the future, but rather more time to spend time with him, to go sailing, to have another Thanksgiving celebration, to allow Katy and my kids more time to enjoy their Opa. Instead there was no warning, no signal, just bam, lights out and it was over. He had no apparent suffering and no pain, which is good and I am incredibly thankful for that. It is the way he always wanted to go, but not now. He was not ready. We were certainly not ready. Not when he still had so much more to give to his family, to his friends, and to his community.
For those of you that know me, I have always treated sickness and death with humor, as a way to deflect the seriousness of the situation with the assumption that “if I ignored it, it might just go away” or “why deal with it now if I can deal with it later”. This outlook probably stems from the auto accident that killed 3 of our grandparents on Hanukah just over 32 years ago. I was essentially allowed to ignore the funeral, sitting in the car, playing on my electronic football game while the graveside service occurred just outside my door. Maybe I don’t know how to grieve. Rabbi Barbara has told me that I need to grieve and maybe I will, or maybe I am. I don’t know. People have called and asked how I am doing and I respond “I am fine”. Honestly, I would have preferred to be at work today, how often do you hear that? But now I must deal with it. We must help each other through this difficult time. We must say Goodbye to my Dad, but more important we must also figure out how to move forward without him and that may be more difficult.
Here is a poem a friend of mine sent to me when her father passed away
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” - Gandhi
“Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might,and when you laugh, laugh like hell and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.” - William Sorayan
As I am standing here, that I have not been on this bima since I was bar Mitzvah’d. For those of you that were not here, just remember I did not make that invite list. For those of you that were here then, what took you so long to come back?
Seriously, it is both the happy and the sad moments that most often brings us together.
It was on that March day, 29 years ago, when my parents stood here and delivered their first serious talk to me. It was not about the birds and the bees; I am still waiting for that discussion, but rather about how they felt about me on that special day. When they finished, they handed me a type written copy of their heartfelt words they had just delivered so I would always have a copy. As a typical 13 year old boy, I did not comprehend or understand the message. I was probably thinking about girls, or if I would be able to sneak a drink at the bar at the reception afterwards. Unfortunately within a few short months that hard copy disappeared too. Their words were eventually erased from my memory forever. I looked for the speech occasionally through the years before I went to college and moved out of the house on Morgan Road, but to no avail. Remember, this was before the digital age, when there were no flash drives or hard drives, or writable floppy disks to store those words forever. Today, as I stand here again, I wish I had a copy of those words to remind me of their thoughts on that day as I stand here again remembering my father. Here is what I would like to think they said: I am a man now, they are so proud of me for what I had just accomplished. They told me how the future was wide open for me. I should seek out opportunities and know that the world was my oyster (Am I even allowed to talk about shellfish in synagogue?). I now stand before you, his family, his friends and his community to say goodbye. Too sudden! Too soon!
It was just over 60 hours ago that Nancy and I received the call I think all of us dread. At that moment, as we were more stunned and shocked to comprehend what had just occurred, I realized that I would need to come back and speak again. To talk about my father in the past tense before it seemed to be his time. Just a few weeks back in January, before they went to Panama he talked about how he was having the time of his life, how he wanted to travel now while he was still healthy, since one never knows what the future holds. When he got back, there was an unbridled enthusiasm in his voice about going to visit Lisa and Katy in Vermont and visit my family in CT this week. In fact my parents were supposed to be in their car travelling down I-91 right now. No one expected us to be here, not now.
For those of you that don’t know, my father and I have spent a great deal of time building upon the family tree that was originally created by his mother before she passed away. He was actually in the process of writing his autobiography to be included in the family tree. Luckily he was able to complete his life’s story right up until he got married, so we will all always have that as a reference point for his formative years. Unfortunately it now up to my mother to complete this work, in what will inevitably be considered the unauthorized biography of Jim Herz.
In doing this genealogical research, we had recently become acquainted with a distant cousin who was going to be visiting family here in the US and Canada in June. When he expressed an interest in meeting with us, I suggested we meet at my parent’s house here in Binghamton. My father then started to reach out to all descendents of his great-grandfather in order to invite them to this cousin club gathering. He put together the list and wrote the letter inviting them to come to here, and to be reacquainted. He spoke with many of them directly asking if they had updates on distant cousins that he had fallen out of touch with and to just to catch up with others. It is sadly ironic that he was able to reestablish some of these links before this occurred. It was important to him that as the oldest living male in the Herz family to have this opportunity to bring the extended family back together.
Just like his Uncle Erich he also felt a great sense of pride knowing he now has two grandsons, Jacob and Owen who can carry on the Herz name for at least another generation. I know (As you heard) Jacob is very sad today as he was planning on coming here this summer to learn how to sail and do woodwork in Opa’s shop. Owen and I will now have an unfortunate link in that both of our Opa’s passed away when we were too young to remember and sadly will have little or know remembrance of our grandfathers beyond stories and pictures. Owen still does not understand what has happened as each day has woken up and asked where Opa was.
Now his granddaughters are a completely different story. Both Katy and Mollie were the apple of his eye. He viewed them both as his angels, his princesses. Although he would not admit it, he loved going to their dance recitals and watching them perform. He enjoyed giving them a little more dessert after dinner, or to defend them if they were misbehaving, which of course rarely happened. This was certainly no behavior which Lisa or I ever witnessed when we were children. He finally seemed to be comfortable in his role of grandfather.
When I was a kid, Dad did not come to many of my sporting events. He always seemed to be working, if not at Singer Link, then for one of the many organizations where he dedicated his time and efforts. He never sat still, was always involved in something. Organizations include the Temple, the Fire Company, the Jewish Cemetery, the Power Squadron, Ham Radio, and most recently building the Center for Innovative Technology including rebuilding one of the original the Blue Box simulators.
As a kid, I always resented that he spent more time at work than with his family. I would wonder why he couldn’t spend more time and being a more involved father. What I now realize, as a father myself, is that it is not always easy to make that choice. We have professional responsibilities that too often conflict or overtake our personal responsibilities. It is a balance that is too often weighs in the direction of work. As I have grown older, and maybe more wise, I have come to realize that I may not have always agreed with the choices he made, but I certainly understand why he made those choices. He was motivated to build the best home life he could for the entire family. He provided us the opportunity to go sailing all summer long on Cayuga Lake, vacations on Lake Ontario and bareboat charters in the Virgin Islands. He put Lisa and I through college. He made a choice and it was the right choice for all of us, in his own way he has always put family first. I may not have always agreed, but I certainly understand that now more than ever.
What is most amazing to me is that he was married at 23 and a father at 24. Honestly, I can still barely take care of myself to this day and most certainly was not ready for a wife and kids when I was 24. Thank goodness I found Nancy or I might still be wondering around, unable to match my clothes or send thank you notes.
He never watched sports on TV. I only have two recollections of him watching TV and they both involve perhaps the two best World Series moments in recent history. In 1986, we were sitting in our living room; I think we were rooting for the Mets, as I could never see myself rooting for the Red Sox. When the ball dribbled between Buckner’s legs, my father actually jumped out of his chair and started celebrating, something I do all the time when the Yankees, or Steelers or Rangers score, but it was not something I have never seen him do before or since. Then in 1991, we were at a cousin’s bar mitzvah and staying in the basement of their house. So we turned on Game 7 and watched Jack Morris battle Jon Smoltz through 10 shutout innings in one of the best pitching duels ever. I will always cherish and remember those two games for the rest of my life, not because the Mets or the Twins won in the end but because I got to watch them and make a lifelong memory with my Dad.
When I first started thinking about getting up here today, about 1 am Wednesday morning, my mind was absolutely blank. What was I going to say? Others in this position often have time to prepare, to think and plan. Not us. I wish I had more time, not to think about what I would say if this happened in the future, but rather more time to spend time with him, to go sailing, to have another Thanksgiving celebration, to allow Katy and my kids more time to enjoy their Opa. Instead there was no warning, no signal, just bam, lights out and it was over. He had no apparent suffering and no pain, which is good and I am incredibly thankful for that. It is the way he always wanted to go, but not now. He was not ready. We were certainly not ready. Not when he still had so much more to give to his family, to his friends, and to his community.
For those of you that know me, I have always treated sickness and death with humor, as a way to deflect the seriousness of the situation with the assumption that “if I ignored it, it might just go away” or “why deal with it now if I can deal with it later”. This outlook probably stems from the auto accident that killed 3 of our grandparents on Hanukah just over 32 years ago. I was essentially allowed to ignore the funeral, sitting in the car, playing on my electronic football game while the graveside service occurred just outside my door. Maybe I don’t know how to grieve. Rabbi Barbara has told me that I need to grieve and maybe I will, or maybe I am. I don’t know. People have called and asked how I am doing and I respond “I am fine”. Honestly, I would have preferred to be at work today, how often do you hear that? But now I must deal with it. We must help each other through this difficult time. We must say Goodbye to my Dad, but more important we must also figure out how to move forward without him and that may be more difficult.
Here is a poem a friend of mine sent to me when her father passed away
I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"She is gone",
There are others who
are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:
"There she comes"
- and that is dying. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, so that we may see further.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Jim Herz Obituary
James Herz of Binghamton
Jim Herz, of Binghamton, passed away suddenly Wednesday March 8th, 2011, at his home. Born May 8th, 1942, the son of German immigrants who escaped the Holocaust.
Jim graduated from Brooklyn Tech; he worked as a program manager for Singer Link, Corp. and retired after 33 years of service. Jim was very active in the community, his talents and interests were truly diversified, as he was an active member of the Boy Scouts of America and obtained the rank of Eagle Scout, a past commander of the Susquenango Power Squadron, a past President of Temple Concord, Head of the Westlawn Cemetery, Past Chairman of the Town of Binghamton Planning Board, member of the Town of Binghamton Volunteer Fire Company, as well as an avid sailor and bird watcher.
Surviving Jim are his loving wife Carol Herz, his daughter Lisa McCarthy, son and daughter in law, Jeff and Nancy Herz and his grandchildren Katy McCarthy, Jacob, Mollie, and Owen Herz.
Funeral Services will be held at Temple Concord 9 Riverside Drive on Friday March 11th at 12:00 noon with Rabbi Barbara Goldman-Wartell officiating. Shiva will be observed at 7:00 p.m. at the Herz home Saturday and Sunday.
Those wishing to make direct memorial donations in Jim’s name to either Temple Concord, 9 Riverside Drive Binghamton, NY 13905 or Town of Binghamton Volunteer Fire Company PO Box # 154 Hawleyton Road Binghamton NY 13903.
Jim Herz, of Binghamton, passed away suddenly Wednesday March 8th, 2011, at his home. Born May 8th, 1942, the son of German immigrants who escaped the Holocaust.
Jim graduated from Brooklyn Tech; he worked as a program manager for Singer Link, Corp. and retired after 33 years of service. Jim was very active in the community, his talents and interests were truly diversified, as he was an active member of the Boy Scouts of America and obtained the rank of Eagle Scout, a past commander of the Susquenango Power Squadron, a past President of Temple Concord, Head of the Westlawn Cemetery, Past Chairman of the Town of Binghamton Planning Board, member of the Town of Binghamton Volunteer Fire Company, as well as an avid sailor and bird watcher.
Surviving Jim are his loving wife Carol Herz, his daughter Lisa McCarthy, son and daughter in law, Jeff and Nancy Herz and his grandchildren Katy McCarthy, Jacob, Mollie, and Owen Herz.
Funeral Services will be held at Temple Concord 9 Riverside Drive on Friday March 11th at 12:00 noon with Rabbi Barbara Goldman-Wartell officiating. Shiva will be observed at 7:00 p.m. at the Herz home Saturday and Sunday.
Those wishing to make direct memorial donations in Jim’s name to either Temple Concord, 9 Riverside Drive Binghamton, NY 13905 or Town of Binghamton Volunteer Fire Company PO Box # 154 Hawleyton Road Binghamton NY 13903.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Friday, March 04, 2011
What Baseball team should I root for?
Courtesy of http://cdn3.sbnation.com/imported_assets/666055/ibd_baseball_flowchart.jpg
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