My toast from my dad's 70th birthday party

[rhu]

The fifth commandment tells us "Honor your father and your mother." The Talmud, in tractate Kiddushin, takes up the question of how, in practical terms, does one do so? One of the answers, as explained by Rashi, is that one should never simply refer to one's parent by name. One should refer to "My father, my teacher" or "My mother, my teacher."

So it is a privilege and honor today to wish a happy seventieth birthday to my father, my teacher, and to reflect on some of the things he has taught us. Sometimes his teaching has been in words, but more often it has been in his deeds.

First and foremost, my father, my teacher has taught us that family is, well, first and foremost. We all know, we all appreciate the depths of the tie he feels to each one of us, and how important he believes that family bond to be. If I have the temerity to consider myself a good father today, it is only because I have the best role model.

My father, my teacher has taught us the importance of working for the good of the community. He has served for years as chairman of the synagogue endowment committee, getting some little thanks and no little aggravation. I fondly recall walking with him most mornings before school to Mr. Parmett's office at Hillcrest during the reconstruction of the ballroom. They would go over the blueprints, compare carpet swatches and samples of wood latticework, and discuss the relative merits of different temperature fluorescent bulbs. He did this because it was a way that he could contribute his skills to the community; again, I don't think he got the credit he earned, but that wasn't why he did it.

Which brings me to the third thing that my father, my teacher, has taught us: humility. His name isn't prominently displayed at the shul for which he has done so much hard volunteer work, and that's how he wants it. He does what's right because it's what's right, and if I know him, he's terribly embarrassed right now. Sorry, dad.

Fourth, my father, my teacher has always demonstrated the principle of dan l'chaf z'chut, although he probably wouldn't put it that way. "Dan l'chaf z'chut" can be loosely translated as "Give people the benefit of the doubt," but its meaning is more closely "Judge a person by examining his or her merits." My father, my teacher never rushes to lay blame, always assumes that when someone has not lived up to expectations that, barring evidence to the contrary, they must have had a good reason. This is probably a harder character trait to master than even humility, but when I look at my father, my teacher, I see the embodiment of dan l'chaf z'chut.

Fifth, my father, my teacher has taught me to "buy after a three-day up signal with two days confirmation, and don't sell."

Sixth, my father, my teacher has taught me that, in Euclidean space, the square of a right triangle's hypotenuse equals the sum of the squares of the other two sides. He did this with little paper cutouts on the kitchen table one afternoon. More generally, he taught me that math, science, and engineering are fun.

But, seventh, my father, my teacher, has taught me to question all my teachers, even him. He has taught me that no assertion should be accepted as fact until I have probed it for its weaknesses: Who said it? What was that person's agenda? Are there other explanations? (And I think we all know who taught him that!)

Those are but seven of the many things that my father, my teacher has taught us, one for each decade that we are celebrating here today. Prioritize family, serve the community, walk humbly, judge every person on their merits, invest wisely, seek knowledge, and always ask questions.

Dad: I love you, I thank you, and I am honored to call you both my father and my teacher. May you continue from strength to strength.