The Men in My Life              8/12/15

     David & Joel are among my closest friends.  They share their wisdom, their love and their listening ears with me. I cherish and depend upon their friendship.  I do believe that we share each others lives as true friends are supposed to do so.  We are interested in one another and always challenged.  They are my brothers.

     Once upon a time I had a brother with whom I shared genes and arguments. He was four years older than I.  When we were children I did not think so much of his wisdom but was embattled more by his huge intellect and his physical strength.  He could painfully twist my arm without breaking it; he could do it and elicit my screams and get in trouble with Mom.  That big intelligence failed to threaten me as much as it encouraged me to lay back and not compete.  As we grew and became adults, he and I found a developing respect for one another.  I depended upon his political know-how, he stopped treating me as a kid sister.

     I recall the day that he won Junior Phi Beta Kappa, after the excitement simmered down I realized that I was next up.  I made a decision, said to my parents, “Do not expect anything like that from me.”  I met my own mark; I was a good student throughout school: valedictorian in the eighth grade; along the way to college there was the high school honor society and advanced classes, with an easy acceptance to the University of Michigan. Perhaps my brother was a role model that stretched me just far enough to do well, I was also encouraged by my parents to be myself. There is no Phi Beta Kappa in my history, no sense of disappointment either. At the University, I was not the most popular girl on campus, but I had fun; I had a boyfriend whose name was David.  That name has been attached to meaningful men in my life.  Even in high school, there was a boy named David who was one of my best friends.  Today he is a retired Hollywood director.

     Why the name David has an especially warm and wonderful ring for me, I will never understand.  So much so that when we adopted our son, there was no question that he would have the name David.  Because we also wished to honor my husband’s grandfather whose name had been Jacob, we chose Jeffrey David for our son.  His Hebrew name was Yaacov David.

     I did not marry a David.  My husband’s name was Erwin Lee, it too always landed softly onto my ears.  The reason that we did not name our son after my husband, it is against Jewish tradition to name a child after someone living.  Like so many “old wives tales” this was explained to me this way: if you name a child after the living, the Angel of Death may come by and make a mistake.  Davids come and go in my life. At the moment I have a good friend, my counselor who helps me navigate some of the rough spots that occur in life.  Yes, his name is David!

     In these late years of mine, I have found that a friendship with a man is valuable and fun without a hint of romance.  Men and women share many viewpoints, but there is a huge difference between the sexes and I am always happy to understand the other side of the story.  The men in my life today and those there yesterday have always been supportive, helpful and challenging.  I am so grateful to be alive and enjoying my friends. Of course my very best friend was my husband of almost 63 years.  He is a story unto himself.