Lunch at Michael's, Brooklyn
Nostrand Ave. and Gerritsen Ave, where
my father grew up, near my Mom's childhood home.
Marilyn, thank you for gathering us all here today. As
is fitting, because it is in fact you who almost exclusively brings us
together, always over excellent food and drink. My father adores you and
admires you. I speak for all of us when I say, so do we. We are ever so
grateful for you.
Looking sharp as usual today, Professor. You
single-handedly kept the dry cleaner in business during shelter in place.
Well, we are obligated to begin with your squadron of
boats, Captain. You made being on the water one of the hallmarks of our family,
an upbringing few city kids have. Through you I have come to yearn for the
sound of wind and water, just the sails flapping as we adjust for the change in
wind. When the grandkids want to motor to Port Clyde, we casually suggest
getting an ice cream cone, as if we haven’t been biding our time. You teach
anyone interested how to tie up at the dock, though I think I’m your most
reliable first mate. Actually probably Ulysses is better by now. Jesse
overcomplicates it. And it wouldn’t be a trip to the general store without you
getting into an argument with one of Linda Bean’s minions enforcing her
ridiculous fe es (RIP?).
Sometimes our boat trips were a bit more, err,
adventurous. There was that time we ran aground. Oh, was that not specific
enough? (There were many times). Then the time you convinced Marilyn to go for
a ride in a powerboat rented from Jeff’s Marine in Maine. This was just a few
years into your marriage so she still thought she needed to impress you. We
anchored off of the idyllic Cranberry Island for lunch, only to not be able to
start the engine after. Now it dawned on us that this quiet cove was, in fact,
quite desolate. There were no cell phones then, though even if there were,
there wouldn’t have been cell service. We must have not even had a radio. Like
going on a quick kayak route that Jesse recommended only to find yourself
paddling into three foot waves four hours later, finding yourself stranded in
the ocean is moderately terrifying.
Marilyn, our intrepid problem solver, waded through
the water to shore and set off hiking into the woods to find help. The sun
started to go down and fog descended. Our two Poland Spring water bottles ran
out. Still, we waited. Ten year old Taisy wondered, would we go without dinner
and spend the cold dark night on the boat, without even a blanket? Finally, the
Patty C. (Sea?) lobster boat motored around the bend with Marilyn waving from
the bow. We rode back on the vessel to Friendship. I am fortunate I never had to overcome the
shock of realizing a parent was not, in fact, infallible. Dad, you also modeled
how to make mistakes and turn it into a good story to laugh over. I think you
actually loved every moment of it. You also made sure to bring a radio on every
subsequent boat ride.
Your
grandson Cassius has picked up a love for the water through fishing. After all,
he had caught snapper, one after another, like they were waiting for him, on
City Island in September of 2024. He insisted on frying them up for dinner.
This fall, when the afternoon breeze never showed, Cassius was confident he
would catch our supper. You showed him step by step how to use the fishing rod,
though he insisted he still remembered. Nothing bit. We waited for the tide to
come in. Still no snapper. The line became horribly tangled. And so there was
no wind and no fish, and the sun was beating down. I was secretly pleased.
Cassius learned a valuable lesson in patience and chance that day. You can come
prepared and at the right time, and nature still may not comply; and you can’t
always blame that on mom and dad. No fish were had that night.
You
grieved with me, not just for me, when we struggled with infertility. I felt
seen in how deeply you wanted another child for me. Now that we have Azalea, I
soak in your delight in her because you know just what she means to me. I
wonder if it’s extra sweet to see your daughter have a daughter.
I
was and am proud of your life’s work. While you raised me, you were also
standing up for worker safety. You were writing your case to make
pharmaceutical products safer . Later, you transitioned beautifully to teaching
an entire generation of attorneys. You advanced tort law in China through your
translations and teaching. We walked the Great Wall together.
You
center a narrative that the law can and should advance justice. It is a dark
time for the legal field in this flawed nation of ours, but I know your former
students are out there waiting to fight fascism and sow the seeds of repair. You modeled for me the values of justice and
equity that I now apply in my own work. I can only hope to one day build an
intellectual and practical legacy as strong as yours.
Most spend our lives searching for something we are
skilled at and love as much as you love wooden boats. You always knew how to
live. It’s been a joy to watch you embrace what you love, and get to share it
with - us, your students, neighbors, the doorman, I could go on! Your work is a
core part of your identity. I know that a future without teaching may be dull.
Once, you saw studying for the Bar Exam not as a hardship but rather as a
chance for a Southern California vacation, at your parents’. I am hopeful you
can channel that same attitude in your well earned retirement. You have made so
much meaning in your life - your career, being a patriarch of this family, and
as a dedicated friend and husband. I can envision a new rhythm filled with the
things you like to do and the people you like to be with. I’m proud of you and
I love you.
