Eric Levin on Liza's Eulogy
Dear Liza: This is terrific. Wonderful. Thank you so much. I am going to forward it to Chip, too.
Hanukah or Passover is a great idea. I would love to help make it happen. Lisa and Larry and their kids are, as it happens, coming to New York for Passover and will join us for the second seder. If you would like to join us, we would be delighted. I realize that may not be practical, it being your first Passover without your dad. But the invitation is there, and we can work on the other thing.
By the way, when I got back home I was thinking about Earl and I wrote this paragraph. I doesn't say anything not said at the service, but if you're doing a scrapbook of memories, maybe it will fit in somewhere:
My father and I were on our way to Washington to attend a memorial service for my father's first cousin, Earl, who had just died of cancer at 77. Earl was a remarkable man. A distinguished physicist, a social activist, a professor, a professed atheist who was nonetheless a chauvinistic Jew, a savvy realist who was nonetheless an eternal optimist. He looked like an alert rabbit, his bright eyes, all the lines of his eager face, tapering toward the tip of his nose, under which twitched an enormous bushy mustache. His enthusiasm for life was boundless. He was an accomplished square dancer, contra dancer and line dancer. On him, a straw hat looked dashing and fun. Everyone loved him. He was a collector of jokes, a teller of stories and a keen, responsive listener. He just naturally made everyone around him feel welcome and appreciated and good -- funnier, smarter, more accomplished than usual -- and yet he was often the funniest, smartest, most accomplished person in the room. He played tennis almost to the end. His tennis partners marveled at his ability to come directly from a chemo session to the court, where he would display all his customary competitive gusto and sporting goodwill.
Eric Levin
Montclair, New Jersey
Hanukah or Passover is a great idea. I would love to help make it happen. Lisa and Larry and their kids are, as it happens, coming to New York for Passover and will join us for the second seder. If you would like to join us, we would be delighted. I realize that may not be practical, it being your first Passover without your dad. But the invitation is there, and we can work on the other thing.
By the way, when I got back home I was thinking about Earl and I wrote this paragraph. I doesn't say anything not said at the service, but if you're doing a scrapbook of memories, maybe it will fit in somewhere:
My father and I were on our way to Washington to attend a memorial service for my father's first cousin, Earl, who had just died of cancer at 77. Earl was a remarkable man. A distinguished physicist, a social activist, a professor, a professed atheist who was nonetheless a chauvinistic Jew, a savvy realist who was nonetheless an eternal optimist. He looked like an alert rabbit, his bright eyes, all the lines of his eager face, tapering toward the tip of his nose, under which twitched an enormous bushy mustache. His enthusiasm for life was boundless. He was an accomplished square dancer, contra dancer and line dancer. On him, a straw hat looked dashing and fun. Everyone loved him. He was a collector of jokes, a teller of stories and a keen, responsive listener. He just naturally made everyone around him feel welcome and appreciated and good -- funnier, smarter, more accomplished than usual -- and yet he was often the funniest, smartest, most accomplished person in the room. He played tennis almost to the end. His tennis partners marveled at his ability to come directly from a chemo session to the court, where he would display all his customary competitive gusto and sporting goodwill.
Eric Levin
Montclair, New Jersey
posted by Liza May at 10:35 PM
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