A Tribute on Father’s Day
His hair was always black and thick. It somehow reminded me of an aerial view of Vermont. But now through modern technology his scalp clings to a few hairs that remain in a helter-skelter fashion on top of his head.
My father never complained about anything in his life. And being the strong silent type, he’s not about to start now. His eyes seem deeper in his face, and his color has turned from a deep Florida tan to an emaciated texture of yellow.
He underwent chemotherapy a few months ago for an inoperable brain tumor. He lies in bed with no hope of playing tennis or racquetball or enjoying any recreational activities with his friends. And yet, he is dying the same way he lived, teaching his children and grandchildren life’s most important lessons: courage and dignity, and most importantly, caring and love.
When I grew up some 40 years ago, my father always showed me through example what a real man did and didn’t do. There were no shortcuts, there was only right and wrong. It was clearly wrong to discriminate against anyone because he was less educated or he was feeble or of a different race or color. It was wrong to lie or cheat or go along with the crowd if in your heart you knew what they were doing wasn’t fair. Sometimes he would say, “Lying and cheating would seem to make life temporarily easier, but in the long run you would lose a lot more. You would lose yourself.”
He taught me respect for everyone and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for that.
There was a man named Phillip who worked for my Aunt Lena in a candy-tobacco store she and my uncle owned in Philadelphia. Phillip was mentally retarded and would scare the neighborhood kids through no fault of his own. Actually, the kids would tease him and then run away. When I was about 5 years old, I asked my Dad why Phillip was different and what made him so scary. He took me aside and gently explained that first of all Phillip was a good, honest, hard-working man who deserved respect. He told me that God had made Phillip different, but that didn’t make him better or worse than anyone else. He took me to meet Phillip and supervised our activity. We became friends, Phillip and I, and after awhile I became his assistant. We worked side by side and spent many hours learning from each other.
My father taught me that what one first perceives as real may not always be so. Learn more about it and then decide.
My father, Dr. Benjamin Grossman, does not have much time left. Probably a few more weeks. While he is still here I want him to know that he made a difference. He spread light in the darkness and will leave this Earth a better place for having been here. His legacy was love.
LARRY GROSSMAN
Los Angeles