Tribute to Sid Hirsohn, by his youngest son, Ken

In Memory of My Father

Did you know that Jennifer Garner is pregnant with Ben Affleck’s baby? This is common knowledge, the kind of tidbit that more Americans know than who their congressman is or how bad the AIDS epidemic is in Africa. My father never knew these facts, never followed the celebrities. How embarrassing to have a father so ignorant of these important events…of course, it brings to mind Mark Twain’s words of wisdom:

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

I just wasn’t smart enough to figure out how smart he was by the time I reached 21. 41 maybe, not 21. As time passed, as I got married, as I had children, I observed how materialistic our world has become, how celebrity obsessed, beauty obsessed, shallow. Reminds me of what I could learn from listening to my father. How wise he was to focus on real things, not illusory events and nonsensical people, like celebrities.

He was a man on a quest throughout his life. Sidney Hirsohn passed away at 9:35 a.m. on September 16, 2005. He was two months from his 91st birthday. To say that he lived a full life would be an understatement. If the unexamined life is not worth living (Socrates), then his long, well-examined life was definitely worth living.

When I set out to write about my father, I began a quest of my own. I began thinking about what to say as a eulogy many times over the last few years, as his health gradually deteriorated. What would I say about this man?

Respecting his wishes, no event ever took plan where a eulogy was called for – and I didn’t have one ready. I knew that I needed to write out what I needed to say, but I didn’t know what that was. I knew that whatever it was could by definition be a partial view. I was born when he was 41. I knew that it would be personal, partly about me, my life, and what he meant to me.

What I didn’t realize is that before I could write what I needed to write, I needed to mourn and grieve. Like my brothers, I had limited experience with the process.

We were raised by two Jews who had given up on their religion. To three young, active boys, this was a great relief. We lived in neighborhoods where we were the only Jews. We had no obligation, no Sundays in church (like our neighborhood buddies), no Friday night at the temple. We knew about the hypocrisy of organized religion., but little more.

My father gave up on Judaism at an early age. I thought I knew why, and never really talked to him about it. It was not something he regretted. In discussing this with my Aunt Clara, his beloved sister, no single event or motive or reason became clear. Their father, my grandfather was an Orthodox rabbi. Did my father rebel against his father’s authoritarian ways? Did he see a greater truth? In the grand scheme, it really doesn’t matter. The only fact I am sure of is that he was dead set against organized religion. The image of Groucho Marx, one of my father’s favorites, singing “whatever it is, I’m against it” comes to mind when I think of my father and religion.

However, my dad was definitely a man on a spiritual quest. He spent large parts of his life reading, thinking, listening, learning, and occasionally, preaching. As my brothers and I split up his goods after his death, I put together a collection of some of his favorite works, and many pages of notes from Fritz Perls’s lectures.

His favorite work, in my opinion, was The Book of Miracles published by the Foundation for Inner Peace.. He gave my wife and I a copy when we got married. His words written on the inside cover were:

To a loving couple:
I know you won’t read this now but someday when you are feeling guilty or regretting a mistake or feeling disappointed in someone, you may find this book helpful.
Ignore the repeated references to God, Christ, The Holy Spirit. It does not require your believing. To me God is just symbolic of the deepest finer feelings in each of us – and the book deals with these eternal values.

I remember his discussing the book with me. He told me to substitute “love” wherever the word “God” was used. Heresy to many reading this, I’m sure, but this is who he was and who he saw the world.

His words above are extraordinarily telling. He struggled in his spiritual quest to find peace with his own nature. He was often disappointed in others. He struggled to find forgiveness. His notes are sprinkled with references to the importance of forgiveness. He acknowledged his own battles with guilt and regret.

His deep and abiding faith in the beauty and joy of the human spirit was reflected in his pleasure in those who could express their spirit through art or music. Even as he grew old and his mind faded, he could still find joy in music and those who made it.

He contradicted this faith in humanity with his difficulty in dealing with actual humans. He was often impatient and frustrated with other people. I learned in the early days of my professional career that I needed to talk to people as I traveled the world, or else I would go crazy, and eventually learned to be someone who could make small talk. All the while…I remembered his lectures to me when I was younger…how boring, annoying and ridiculous small talk was. “How about this weather?” “Have a nice day!”

As I thought about all of these things, I grieved for him. I struggled to understand what I was experiencing, and to understand my father’s spiritual quest in his life. While his mind faded away over the last few years, it became difficult to stay connected to him. When he died, the connection came back with a strength that surprised me. I wanted him back, for sure, but his wisdom, his poking and prodding, his humor, all came to life again inside me.

I could not make sense of his spiritual quest and my own feeling of loss, but I finally realized the connection. With no organized religion, my brothers and I were in some part lost – we had no spiritual basis to deal with his death. We had no community that we were part of to deal with life events. We had no traditions, no funerals that we had been to, no set of rituals and traditions to guide us.

I still cannot bring a judgment to this situation. I believe we are at the outset worse off. We are literally cast out to sea without a chart, a paddle, or a light. Certainly, my dad’s great and good friend Barbara and her family, our own families and extended families and friends, and many others were there for us. Their words and offers of support gave me strength that I never could have anticipated.

On the other hand, the way were raised has caused us to deal with his passing staight ahead, face-to-face, with little to hide behind. No false trappings, rituals. That may not be the best way, but it is what it is. And I have not doubt that it has brought us three together, doing those things that men don’t do so well – talking about our feelings and all that.

The challenge is to move forward. Like my father, I believe that there are no easy answers.
Ø What is my spiritual quest? What are the paths to follow to get answers? I often struggle to forgive myself for the many transgressions and mistakes I have made. My father had the same struggle, and I don’t know if he ever found his peace.
Ø What about my children? How do I prepare them for the future, to live a good life, to take charge of their own spiritual life?
Ø What about the Jewish faith? I know that I am 100% Jewish by birth, and that my children are not. I know for certain that I want them to understand the history and great achievements and great miseries of being Jewish. Beyond that, it will be up to them.

What is clear is what remains from my father’s life work has strength and value. Sid’s grand kids are works of beauty and joy, works in progress from a teenage girl facing high school to an 11 year old young man with energy, sensitity and creativity to a marvelous 8 year old boy and a beautiful 5 year old girl. I have my own family now, as does my brother Don, and we cling together to with my brother Paul and my mother.

Sid’s sons are responsible adults doing their best to make their way in their world, do their work, and create their own roots. We may not be the ones to go to find out the latest in celebrity gossip. We may not be the ones to go to find the meaning of life or of the truth of the spirit that unites all people.

It is his legacy that we should be proud of, and it is his legacy that we should challenge ourselves to live up to. The unexamined life is not worth living – he showed us the way, and we would best bring our full spirit to our own well-examined lives.