Today my dad would've been 71. And today is Rosh Hashanah and the start of the Jewish high holy days. I grew up in a conservative temple where the services were at least three hours long. I can remember from the time that I was Ruby's age my four-year-old, Daddy would drag Michael and myself out of bed. No matter what it took he made sure we were at temple on time. I can remember the good times when we had as many as 40 people at service. Each year our congregation got smaller and smaller. We didn't have a separate section for children. We sat with our parents and grandparents the whole time. What blew me away and one of the things I admired most about my dad, He never opened a prayer book. He kept his thump in the book and the book shut. He kept up with the Pages yet he knew every prayer. He memorized over 12 hours of service in Hebrew. He'd peek but I think that was to make sure he did not drop his cigarette. My brother and I always got new suits and shoes from our store and no matter if it was 100° or 40° we walked with the Rabbi to and from the Temple. The rabbi almost walk to Lake City the only time I remember not walking with him. We didn't have a full-time Rabbi. For the high holy days, we will get what my mom called a rent a rabbi who was a student rabbi typically from New York and usually would come to us from Israel during their first-year of rabbinical school. Could you imagine the disappointment on their face when their other classmates are going to Boston Philadelphia New York LA and they get assigned to Kingstree, South Carolina? The next year they always begged to come back to Kingstree and dad and I would drive to Charleston to pick the Rabbi up at the airport, one time we picked up the rabbi with the boat on the back of the car. I asked Dad whether he should've warn the Yankee rabbi he was going to go fishing as soon as he stepped off the plane, Dad said that he wanted to know if mud fish was kosher. That was the first and only time I ever fished with someone who was wearing a yamukah. Dad caught a big mud fishh and the rabbi inspected it with a stick and determined that it was a kosher fish, however there's no way in hell he was goanna eat it. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the holiest of days in Judaism. The high holidays are not commercialized there's no special decorations or music you hear in the background at shopping malls. The rituals for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are truly passed down from generation to generation. My dad made sure that my brother and I learned Hebrew, he made sure that his sons can walk into any synagogue and pray with the most religious Jews. I am so grateful that he made the sacrifices so that we can pass down our tradition to another generation. I will forever be inspired by his love and passion for Judaism and Israel. Your memory is always a blessing. happy birthday dad And happy birthday world L'shana Tova
