Jonah

Today is May 13, 2012. Jonah’s graduation day. Commencement. Not an end, but a beginning.

I’ve had this date in my calendar since Jonah was accepted into, and elected to attend, the University at Buffalo. It’s always been important that I put dates like these into my calendar, even when they’re years away, because, as a rabbi, my dance card fills up. If I don’t place a hold on important personal occasions, I won’t be able to attend them. So before Jonah even moved into his freshman dorm, you can bet I registered these dates. I knew four years ago that I’d be in Buffalo, NY, this weekend to celebrate his graduation, because … well … Jonah graduating from college? That was going to be a sight to see, for sure! I had not a shred of doubt that he could do it; the question was, would he do it?

What I hadn’t counted on … was him dying.

Settling Jonah into his freshman dorm
August 2008

In these three-plus years since, even I wonder why my calendar has remained unchanged. Conventional wisdom might advise that I remove such sad reminders of my loss. But I’ve never been too keen on conventional wisdom in general, all the moreso as it relates to grieving. We each find our own path, and mine includes plenty of reminders how much I miss that boy, even three years later.

But surely some other event would come along and take its place? In fact, it did. I’m writing this from my hotel room in Cincinnati, OH, where I have reunited with my siblings to dedicate the stone on my father’s grave. That’s what I’m doing instead of heading up to Buffalo for Jonah’s celebration. A bit ironic, to be sure, but actually a far easier death to manage since my dad lived to the age of 95. The air in Cincinnati is filled with warmth and affection, not heart-wrenching grief. My father brought quite a crew into this world and it’s breathtaking to be here and to see us “kids,” now all middle-aged and then some, living full and engaged lives. My dad was far from perfect, but this is a great gift he gave to us.

Yet even while I am here, I see those graduation dates … on this laptop’s calendar, even on my phone. Why have I left them in place? Because I need them there. I need to see them. I need to be thinking about them. About him. After all, this was to have been Jonah’s next big life-moment, the one that comes after my child heads off to college. A moment during which I should know what’s happening next in my child’s life. Where he’s going for graduate study. Where he’s moving to find his first job. Now I can only guess, of course. I don’t even know what Jonah’s four years at UB would have looked like, whether or not he’d have moved off-campus, changed his major (again), graduated with honors (can you imagine?). And so, with Commencement only days away, I find myself wondering.

It’s all I get.

That, and The Jonah Maccabee Foundation. An unexpected light to shine on the path ahead.

Commencement was to have been a beginning. And with the genesis of this Foundation, that’s precisely what it’s become. A different beginning, to be sure, but a wonderful one. To honor Jonah’s life – what he accomplished while he was here, and what he might have accomplished had he remained – our family has established a new venture that will, with a lot of good people’s help and support, raise money on behalf of organizations and programs that empower young people to take charge of their lives and to help them make those lives good ones. If Jonah Maccabee can’t “commence” doing this for himself, we can certainly – with him as our inspiration – see that it “commences” for others.

Throughout this first project, which we have called “Commencement Gifts,” we’ve played with this image of college graduation and the gifts that come with such an occasion. Fully recognizing that the one gift we would have loved more than anything else cannot again ever be, we consider what gifts and blessings still remain. Here are some of them:

1) Hearing from Jonah’s college friends in the “Commencement Gifts” blog entries. This has been an incredible offering to us, and to many others who have enjoyed hearing Jonah-stories these past three years and have now been afforded the opportunity to hear from a very special group of Jonah’s friends. I am so grateful that they have so generously shared their memories with us.

2) Receiving your first donations at https://www.jonahmac.org. Asking you to help us start the work of this Foundation, you’ve responded with love and with cash. We are so deeply touched at these gifts you have so selflessly entrusted to us. We can’t wait to begin turning these dollars over to the people who will put them to hard, good work.

3) And of course, recognizing how Jonah continues to shower us with gifts even though physically absent. Each time I hear another story of how he brought a smile, gave a hug, helped a friend, or helped a stranger, I’m blown away all over again by how lucky I am to be his dad.

His 19-year old’s legacy is simply this: be good to one another. And so, with “Commencement Gifts,” we begin the next phase of our lives as we carry Jonah’s legacy into a thousand acts of lovingkindness. We’ll keep telling his stories, and now we’ll be adding new ones, told by others who won’t have known Jonah, but whose lives will be made better by him just the same.

“Be good to one another.” Could there be a more beautiful way to remember him?

I knew there was one more UB student we all needed to hear from, who needed to be asked to write about her college friendship with Jonah. That was his sister, Katie, who was two years ahead of Jonah. As their dad, I longed to know some of what they shared while in Buffalo, so I extended to Katie the same invitation I’d made to the others.

Katie writes:

Jonah and Katie
June 2008

Of course, having spent 19 years of my life with Jonah, I have an infinite number of memories that I’ll always hold dear. However, my last memories from our time together at the University at Buffalo are undoubtedly some of my favorites. As a big sister, I thought it was just the coolest thing in the entire world that my little brother wanted to go to the same college as me. When Jonah was accepted, I was so excited that I immediately obtained a Wegmans Shoppers Club card for him, and even wrote him a rhyming poem about all the fun things to do in Buffalo. Once there, Jonah and I made sure to have lunch together at least once a week. He told me about his friends and his classes, and I loved watching him navigate his freshman year.

One lunch date in particular stands out in my mind. Aiden had recently gotten his first (I think) cellphone, and a very strange glitch caused the phone to insert the phrase “poui poui poui” every time Aiden typed the letter “P.” I still don’t really understand why his phone did that, but all I know is Jonah and I found this to be beyond funny. Over lunch in the Student Union, in true older sibling fashion, we texted Aiden repeatedly, asking him questions that we knew he would have to answer using the letter “P,” and laughing hysterically with each response. I remember my friends sitting nearby and watching us entertain ourselves, at one point exclaiming, “You guys are exactly the same person!”

I never really thought of Jonah and me as exactly the same person (or even close, for that matter) but I was definitely honored to be compared to such an awesome, fun-loving soul, and in that moment, felt a really wonderful sense of closeness to my little brother.

Katie, Jonah and Aiden were a wonderful threesome. Ellen and I never tired of watching them together. That Jonah would join Katie at college was one gift atop another. We would be privileged to see their relationship deepen as college carried them together into adulthood. I am so grateful that despite the busyness of college, they made time to be with each other.

I myself have few memories of Jonah at UB, simply because I wasn’t there. But I do have a specific moment that we shared from afar. One afternoon, while sitting at my desk at home, the phone rang. It was Jonah. Only a few weeks after his arrival to Buffalo and he found himself in need of some cash. He possessed an ATM card but he’d never used it and was nervous about operating the machine. I smiled at his innocence and calmly (actually, excitedly … he needed me for something!) walked him through the process. While he stood in front of an ATM somewhere on the other side of New York State, I talked him through each simple (but for him, completely new) step. And for a brief moment there, my big man on campus was once again my little boy. I couldn’t have been happier, or more thankful that it was me he called to ask.

“Here the anthem doth commence,” writes Shakespeare in his sonnet, “The Phoenix and the Turtle.” It’s a tale of death and mourning which unfolds in the aftermath of the title characters’ demise. But while Shakespeare’s ode begins and ends with loss, not so Jonah’s story. He died once, that is true. But through our stories, and through the good works of the foundation that bears his name, he shall … well, like a phoenix, arise again and again. He may not live in that sense that permits us to hold him in our arms, or kiss the top of his head, but Jonah lives on just the same. Through our persistent love, our tender memories, and our passion for creating the kind of good works in this world that he might have done himself were he here, we perpetuate him. And he lives on.

May 13, 2012, has arrived. The graduates of the University at Buffalo collect their diplomas. While Jonah Maccabee Dreskin may not be among them, we celebrate nonetheless. For the beauty of his spirit has not vanished. It remains inside each person whose life, once upon a time, he made a little bit brighter. These acts stand strong, and are the very substance of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. Today is the last day of “Commencement Gifts,” The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what we hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Your tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org (today, or any other time) will be greatly appreciated … by us, and by the young people who will benefit. Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

Steph O’Bryan is graduating this Sunday, May 13, with a Bachelor’s Degree in English and a Journalism Certificate. She will remain in Buffalo, hoping to land a job writing for one of the music magazines in the area. Her long-term plan is to go back to UB for a Master’s Degree in English and to eventually earn her PhD.

Steph writes the following:

Mac and I had a bunch of fun memories. Many of them occurred while playing our favorite card game, Egyptian Ratscrew. Mac and I were probably the two most competitive and stubborn people in our group of friends, and therefore our card games lasted until the earlier hours of the morning.

One night specifically, we could not finish this one game of E-screw, it was down to just Mac and me, and the game went on for hours. We decided to put something on to watch while we played, and that is when Mac and I discovered our passion/obsession with “Family Guy.” We watched the “Blue Harvest” episode, which is an adaptation of “Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope.” While watching, we realized that each of us knew and could recite almost every line of the episode.

It was something that Mac and I carried with us the entire freshman year. Whenever we saw each other, the first thing uttered out of our mouths was a quote from that episode. Which would immediately be followed by a game of E-Screw, normally taking place at the bench outside the Wilkeson dorms. Whenever I think of your son, I think of him with his mouth pursed to the side reciting a quote in the Peter Griffin voice. He was so good at it!! We quoted that show each and every time we were together.

I suspect that, for most parents, their child’s college experience is a bit of a closed book. I’m so grateful to have Steph and Jonah’s other friends open that book a little bit, and invite us in to take a look around.

This guy, “Mac,” that everybody at UB writes about, sounds a lot like “Jonah” to me. But as with so many young people leaving home for the first time, the desire to rewrite their story — to shed the stuff about childhood that was least enjoyed, and to emphasize those parts of the self that speak best to who we want to be — is quite understandable and reasonable. I suspect that was what “Mac” was up to.

Essential Jonah
UB 2008-09

But the essential Jonah-ness was still all there. It was always there. Even in the fifth grade, when he claimed to have no friends and to be good at nothing. I used to sit on his bed and tell him that this wasn’t just a dumb old dad’s point of view, but that he possessed something incredibly special inside of him, and if he’d just share it with the world, the same way he shared it with us – with his family – people would fall in love with him. “Mac” did not need to change his name — that was just him having fun. He’d already tapped into his essential beauty. And the votes were pouring in everyday: Jonah/Mac was comical, witty, smart, engaging, and someone you could absolutely rely on in your moment of need. There was nothing about him that needed to be hidden. Mac could (and did!) share Jonah with the entire world.

Steph continued:

Another memory (that brings me to tears every time I think of it) occurred when Jade came up for a weekend visit. I went outside to the bench to look for everybody and I heard a guitar playing. So I walked down the terrace a little ways to find Mac serenading Jade with his guitar on the bench nearby.

He was singing and playing to her. “All My Loving,” by The Beatles. This was right before she left to get on her train back to Hobart. It was just such a beautiful moment and I knew that he truly loved that girl with all his heart. It was that one college relationship that you knew was going to go on for a very long time. They were so happy together every time we saw them.

Well, who wouldn’t fall in love with Jade? Our whole family is still crazy about that woman. We love seeing her from time to time, and we’ll fondly watch from the sidelines as her life moves forward. There’s a reason Jonah fell for her, and we have too.

I’ve often wondered, in the years since Jonah’s death: what would be the most important experiences for a person to have if their time on earth was extremely limited? As a 55-year old, I know that I’ve needed every year God’s given me in order to put together a life for myself that is full and right. If I’d only had nineteen, I’d not only have missed out on so many experiences that I’ve had between 19 and 55, but my life would have concluded before I’d barely begun to grow … before I’d barely begun to live.

This is, of course, one of my persistent thoughts about Jonah. He’d hardly gotten out of the gate before his adventure was over. And that leaves an undercurrent of sadness that I carry with me, disappointed that so many moments in life will never be his. This week’s graduation. His first job. His first apartment. His career. His family. His colonoscopy. Okay, I wouldn’t wish that last one on anybody, but I sure wish he’d have lived long enough for his doctor to bully him into getting one like my doctor bullied me.

At the same time, however, Jonah got to see and to hear and to feel so much. And as much as I miss him, I’m happy (yep, happy) that his life had been as full and as good as it truly was. This story about Jade is one of its great highlights, because Jonah got to be in love! He got to develop his capacity to love. Not just people in general, which he did all the time. But that one special person — to dote upon, to swoon for, to serenade, and to feel that lightness of heart that comes from knowing someone has singled you out from the entire human population to be the object of their affections and desires. And my Jonah, he had the opportunity to make someone else the object of his affections and his desires. I am forever thankful that his life was long enough to know that kind of love.

Life turns on a dime. Jonah Maccabee teaches me everyday the importance of bringing to life the very best we have, and of soaking in as much of its brilliant light and life-giving warmth as we possibly can. Like a most excellent game of Egyptian Ratscrew, we must focus and engage and remember and then laugh our way to the very end.

As May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

I can’t get to all of Jonah’s friends before this project ends, so here are a bunch of shorter writings for you to enjoy.

Ashera Buhite majored at UB in Global Gender Studies (she writes, “The arguments on feminism I had with Mac were The Best!”) and will be graduating this coming fall. She plans to do graduate study in Public Health and to work in sexuality education and violence prevention. Ashera writes:

The most beautiful memories I have of Mac are of him and his love for Jade. Once, she secretly snuck up to Buffalo to surprise him. We spent the whole day keeping him busy and getting her here (from Hobart-Smith College in Geneva, NY) and, when he saw her, his whole face lit up. I don’t think I ever saw him happier than when he was with Jade.

June Chang graduated in May 2010 with a bachelor’s degree in nursing. Today, she is a registered nurse at the NYU Medical Center in New York City. She plans on going back to school for her master’s degree. Still looking for her niche in the healing profession, June is happy to report that she’s very happy where she is. June writes:

Although I didn’t know Mac for a long time, those six months were definitely worth every moment, every memory, that I have. Mac was a wonderful friend with such a beautiful soul. And I’m forever thankful I got the chance to know him, to have him in my life where he will always hold a piece of my heart.

Charlene Smerdon, who studied photography and art at UB, was really only an acquaintance of Jonah’s. She met him through her friend, Lexi Milford, and had the opportunity to record his image for posterity (not knowing how important that brief act would become for us) when she photographed him at The Elli, a convenience store for students and staff inside Jonah’s dorm complex. Charlene told us that Jonah always had a smile for her whenever he entered The Elli and she was delighted to capture that smile in a photograph for a class project she’d been working on. This is the picture which currently adorns the promotional material for the “Commencement Gifts” project. Charlene sent us a beautifully framed copy of the photograph, which Katie is hanging onto. She recently wrote these words:

The first time I met Mac was in the Ellicott complex. I was grabbing a quick dinner on my break from working at the Elli and ran into Alexis and Mac; their entourage soon followed. It was such a fun conversation, I really wish that I could have remembered what we were all talking about. But nonetheless, I remember it being quite humorous. After that, I always saw Alexis and Mac hanging out together. They were inseparable.

The defining and memorable moment of Mac was when I working at the Elli. I worked as a cashier and, over time, I started to learn the eating habits of most of the students. Sadly, most of their choices were extremely unhealthy. I thought that this would be a great photography project so I started to intertwine my job and my art together. With any artist, we reach a “block” with our work at one point or another as we’re trying to persevere through our tiredness, poor diet, and just wanting to get yet another project done to go on to the next, then hopefully a break to go home. In November, I certainly was feeling this way, just wanting to be done with the semester. Mac and Alexis came into the Elli, buying a few snacks for their evening. I thought “Hey?! I can ask them for help for my project!” I distinctly remember asking Mac and his face lit up with a huge smile on his face! I was surprised that out of all the students I’ve asked to be photographed, Mac, with no hesitation, volunteered. I actually think he was more excited about the project than I was! Mac’s willingness to help with a simple project of mine left a huge impression and I hold this memory dear. With his vivacious attitude, this made me reevaluate how I felt about my artwork and thought that I should continue to have that same exuberant attitude towards how I should live my life.

Stuart Barnett left the University at Buffalo and is currently studying at Queens College to be a teacher. Stuart writes:

Jonah and I met in high school, during my first Winter Kallah (a temple youth group program) in 2007. We didn’t really become friends until my next kallah in winter 2008. I always had a great time whenever I was around him or talking to him. When we found out that we were going to be at SUNY Buffalo at the same time, it felt good to know somebody else who was going to be there, especially someone I was friends with. There was a group of us up at Buffalo that would usually meet up in the same spot to hang out and talk. He was a big part of that group and he is someone I will always remember.

Adrien d’Angelo, who is graduating from UB next week, writes:

My friend, brother, my mirror … we played the tunes of our ancestors, talked of the philosophical, met spirits, and gathered fire into our hearts. I marvel at how one day changes a person, but one person can always change the day, the week, the world. Mac was that kind of person. And me … I’m just blessed to have met him. I won’t soon forget, even though three years seems like a long time for a wound in my heart that still seems so fresh. But love is a stronger force than you or I.

Rob Miller left UB after his freshman year and moved around a bit. This fall, he’ll be returning to school for an Associate’s Degree in mechanical engineering. He wrote passionately of his friendship with Jonah, even recording a song in Jonah’s memory. Here are some of Rob’s words:

Maccabee was one of the most brilliant and inspiring souls I have ever met. He was creative and hilarious. I remember all of the jam sessions we’d all share. I remember just sitting at the benches and talking – he always had interesting things to say. He had a specific walk to him, striding proudly and with purpose, but with also a smirk of a smile, always having a bit of fun with whatever life threw at him. Maccabee was a great soul and I’m glad I was able to meet him and have him in my life.

Lots of words expressing loss and sadness were written immediately after Jonah died. But Genevieve Van Dussen, a fellow student at UB, wrote some words in those early days of March 2009 that provided us with some terrific images of Jonah. I loved reading them then, so I include them here:

You were truly one incredible person. You were always able to put a smile on my face and reverse my bad mood into a good one. You are not like anyone I have ever met. I will never forget our ridiculously long walk from South Campus to North Campus when I asked you if you would tell me a story and boy, did you. I never laughed so hard. I will also never forget that “V for Vendetta” mask in your room, watching random movie clips together on your computer, your walk (or should I say your “swagger”), your checkered hat, red aviators, the many trips you made to my dorm (you were such a gentleman and always walked me to my room), your guitar playing with that bright red guitar of yours. You asked me if I wanted to buy it, but that guitar could only fit one person — you and nobody else. You were such a lovely person inside and out. I will miss you so much, Mac.

Jonah and friends
UB 2008-09

So much of this feels familiar. After all, Jonah had only been out of high school for six months. But he’d carried that big, bold, beautiful, spirited personality of his to Buffalo. And in the few months he was there, touched lives in some gigantic ways. I’m so proud of him for having been that kind of a person (that kind of a kind person). Some would say, “One of a kind.” But that’s never been important to me. That Jonah had become so comfortably happy with himself, and selflessly shared his joyfulness with others, these are two of life’s greatest achievements. And in only nineteen years, he got it. And we, who are still around trying to figure life out, can learn a few lessons from Jonah Maccabee about how to really live.

As May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

Kayla White graduated from UB in 2010. She’s been working as an Assistant Manager at a 7-11 and is soon moving on to the Adirondack Heart Lodge where she’s excited to be living in a cabin or a tent, and enjoying nature to the fullest. She’s promised herself that she will try to climb every mountain there.

Kayla writes:

The memory I would like to share is the first time I met Mac. I had just gone downtown with my friends Danielle and Tyler to attend the Buffalo Chicken Wing Festival (buffalowing.com). We were on our way home riding the Metro when I noticed a group of hippies sitting across from us. We were juniors at the time and although they looked younger (and were, in fact, freshman), they looked like an interesting bunch. That was the first time I met Leyna, Cydney, Jimmy and, of course, Mac. I even remember what he was wearing: jeans, a white t-shirt, and aviator sunglasses. Cydney was the first to respond to us and tell me that she liked my peace sign necklace. I responded that I liked her India-inspired bag.

We started chatting with the bunch and they seemed really cool. We invited them to our party that we were having at Dani’s and my apartment that night. Surprisingly, they came. I hadn’t thought they would. Leyna and Mac brought with them an Alex Gray book and a mask. I remember sitting in my room and everyone was taking turns wearing the mask and saying what they saw. It was such an interesting concept, but Mac and his friends were into all the psychedelic and philosophical stuff. Having been a philosophy major and a comparative literature minor, I understood. He reminded me of myself as a freshman.

What they also brought with them was body paint. Over the years, I have had many, many body painting parties and I owe it all to Mac and his friends. We had such a great time that night, and Leyna and Mac became regulars at our get-togethers.

“Hippies.” I’ve heard this descriptor often regarding Jonah’s time in Buffalo. And what fascinates me is that, for Jonah, it hadn’t begun there. He’d been in a production of “Hair” during his senior year of high school, and the entire cast had become a community of hippies, and not just onstage. They really seemed to coalesce as a very special ensemble of caring, giving, loving human beings, and (at least, as this dad watched from afar) it permeated their relationships offstage as well as on. That he carried this with him to college suggests to me that the “Hair” experience may have deeply affected Jonah and his view of the world. I’ve no direct proof that this is what happened, but “Hair” had a lot to say about the way we interact with the world around us, and as impressionable teenagers, I think they got swept along by something quite beautiful. Jonah already had a proclivity for embracing the very human and very emotional dimensions of life. That these were embodied in the script of “Hair” would probably have reinforced his fondness for the outlook of the “hippie.”

Jonah, June & Kayla
UB 2008-09

Oh, and while there was something familiar to me in all of this (after all, I had grown up in the “Hair” era), I think my appreciation went beyond nostalgia. The sixties really offered some exceptional ideals and seeing Jonah and his friends embrace those ideals made this father very happy and quite proud.

Jonah had gone to UB to study engineering. That changed very soon after his arrival, and I wasn’t surprised. Jonah hadn’t seemed like an engineering student to me. I knew he could intellectually appreciate it, especially the intricacies that lay behind everything people build. When he told us he was changing his major to philosophy, that sounded more like my boy. But who knew? He might just as easily been excited and inspired by a spunky chemistry professor who pondered the molecular foundations of existence. As always, time would have told.

The “hippie” thing didn’t quite get as far as “turn on, tune in, drop out.” I’ve got the papers to prove it. Jonah did actually do some college-level writing. And he was in touch with his advisor in a very cordial way. This hippie was on a journey, but not to oblivion. He was on his way to discovering what would resonate in both his heart and his mind. And as I’ve written before, I’d have loved to have seen what that would have become.

Kayla shared an additional memory with me. A bittersweet one:

The last time I ever saw Mac was on UB North Campus in front of the Student Union. I hadn’t seen him in a little while since we were all preparing for midterms and things like that. I’d been walking when all of a sudden I heard my name — “Kay!” — being yelled at a distance. I turned around to see Maccabee running toward me at top speed (nearly taking me out), picking me up in a hug, and twirling me around. We’d missed each other but chatted only for a little bit. I was on my way to class so I couldn’t talk long. Mac promised he’d see me very soon. I gave him a look that said I didn’t believe him, and he frowned at that for a moment. I can see it clear as day in my head, even now. Then, in a goofball dramatic tone, he promised that we’d see each other again, saying it’d be wonderful and everything I’d hope it to be. We hugged and the last thing we did was grasp each other’s hand as we separated. I remember smiling and turning around one last time and then we let go.

That night, I was going to call him and invite him over to hang out with me and Tyler, but no one was hanging out until the next night. So I thought, “I’ll just call him tomorrow.” I didn’t know tomorrow wouldn’t come. I wish so badly I had called him.

How many of us feel that way? I last spoke with Jonah on my birthday, twelve days before he died. It had been three months since I’d last seen him. But life is always that way, isn’t it? When we lose something/someone we loved, don’t we always regret that there hadn’t been more? I could never have gotten enough time with Jonah. My heart will always yearn, always miss him. But those hugs were so huge. That smile was so beautiful. That laugh, so infectious. That makes him an extremely memorable guy. I’ll be holding onto all of it. As I suspect Kayla will be doing. And so many others who loved Jonah Maccabee.

Kayla concluded her writing with these words:

Looking back on the last time I saw him means so much and I do truly believe that I will see him again and it’ll be amazing and everything I’d hope it to be.

Jonah touched our lives in astonishingly gracious ways. He is so very much worth remembering. And, as does Kayla, I hope there will indeed be a time when we can see each other again. That would be amazing, and even more than I could ever hope would be.

As May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

Matt Yaeger was one of Jonah’s three roommates at UB. He majored in Business Administration and graduated in December 2011. This past January, Matt began working for GEICO in their accelerated leadership program.

Matt writes:

My roommates (Chris, Matt K and Mac) and I were hardly ever in our room at the same time, let alone all going to bed at the same hour. However, one night I remember us lying in our twin-sized mattresses talking about school, girls, and life in general. We were, for once, insulated from the noisy surroundings of the dorm life and really connected with each other. That kind of night honestly never really happened ever again – usually we’d all come into the room at our own separate times and sleep whenever convenient.

Mac loved to sleep. Freshman year I was, for whatever reason, obsessed with rising early and getting to campus. Maccabee, in stark contrast, cherished his beauty sleep and always insisted on getting ten hours! One day, I remember coming back from a morning class around noon and recall carefully closing the door to the room so as not to wake Mac. As I walked into the main room from the walk-in closet area I remember seeing Mac’s eyes flutter open in a moment of horror as he realized that he was late for his class. For underneath storage purposes, we all had our beds bunked as high as possible, maybe four feet off the ground. As Mac went to hop out of bed, he tripped on his blanket and fell to the floor, where he immediately bounced up and ran to the closet to throw on some clothes and race to class. All in all, this whole encounter probably lasted ten seconds but I remember it as being one of the funniest things I’d seen in a long while.

Prior to college, Jonah never demonstrated a strong commitment to academics. It’s not that he didn’t love to learn; he did. But no teacher could evoke a loyalty to study, and would have to (hopefully, his parents prayed) settle for Jonah’s natural curiosity (which was ample) and his love for debate (which was also ample) to get him through any course. That said, Jonah almost never missed a class during high school. He rarely got sick, and he never complained about going to school (which always amazed me). He wouldn’t get up on his own but once he was out of bed, he moved into each school day without a moment’s resistance.

College, with its lack of parental oversight (ie, wake-up calls) and its abundant assigning of papers, must have been a very different and challenging world for Jonah. As I often do about so much of his life, I now find myself wondering where Jonah’s college years might have taken him. In time, I believe he would have found his passion and immersed himself in learning (and maybe even study!) with everything he had. I’d always pegged him for a future teacher, and he himself once said that he’d be the coolest college professor ever.

In the days after Jonah died, Matt left the following note online, providing additional details of the dorm room dynamic:

As a roommate, Mac was a great person and as a friend even better. I can still see him at his desk late at night playing his guitar, bathed in the light from his lamp. His music, his humor and his personality have affected me in a way that not many others have. The beautiful thing about Mac was that he was never captured by any sort of constraining ideology or paradigm – that was too earthly, too predictable for an individual like him. Whether it be our slight differences over politics or other petty things, Mac always thought out his own ideas and was never afraid to express them. It would never tire me to see him waking up at noon every day; it made me reevaluate myself. He had his own idea on how life should be lived; he didn’t give a damn how that fit or didn’t fit with society.

What amazed me about Jonah’s approach to living was that, even though he thought and acted in a very individualistic and (I daresay) contrary manner, he was never angry or mean about it. He thought the education system left much to be desired and, for his type of personality, he was very likely correct. Our classrooms in America are designed for the kid who can sit still, take notes, and do homework. That leaves out a whole lot of young people who need a different kind of stimulus, a different kind of information input. It can be done but, by and large, American schools have little or no knowledge how.

Jonah was always a mystery to me. The good kind. Like a present, beautifully wrapped and sitting in plain sight for days while you wonder what’s inside. Jonah had so much that was getting unwrapped, so much inner beauty that was steadily emerging from him, steadily gracing all who gathered around him. It had begun in high school and continued in college. One of my greatest sadnesses is losing him before all the wrapping came off. There was something incredibly special in there and I think there was a great deal more to be uncovered.

Rather than stay sad (which I could certainly do), I enjoy ruminating about the possibilities. What might he have become in the years ahead? What profession might he have selected? Where would he have chosen to live? What kind of clothing would he have preferred? Would he have shaved his beard? What role would music have played? And whose lives would have been affected by the way he lived his own?

Matt’s writing just after Jonah’s death concluded with the following:

In a way, Mac’s brief tenure on this planet was fitting – he came and blessed us with his charm and intelligence. Now he is seated in the house of the Lord, cracking jokes amongst the angels.

It’s a great image. Jonah in the Great Beyond, entertaining the heavenly hosts. Of course, I’d rather have him entertaining us, but Matt’s image brings a smile to my face and acknowledgment of likely truth in my heart.

About a month before Jonah died, his roommates, along with some other guys on his floor, shed all but their boxers, donned lampshades (!) and headed down to a girls’ floor for what I imagine was one of the strangest raids in college history. Jonah assumed the role of videographer as this odd troupe scampered through groups of very surprised young women. In the film, I hear Jonah’s distinctive laugh (I always loved that laugh) along with his response to the posse’s question about how they could possibly move with lampshades covering their faces. He said, “You just gotta look once and run straight.”

This, I think, turned out to be far more than a suggestion for their ten minutes of silliness. It was pretty close to how Jonah lived all the minutes of his nineteen years. “Look once and run straight.” He had such a clear idea of what was important to him. And he followed his own lead, forging a path that others were only too happy to join or, barring that, to at least watch in surprised but appreciative wonder. Matt Yaeger noticed the phenomenon that was his roommate, and he was grateful for the opportunity to spend at least a little bit of his life sharing in the wonder that was Jonah Maccabee Dreskin.

As May 13, 2012, approaches, these are a few more of Jonah’s commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

Andrea Zlotowitz goes way back with Jonah, long before UB. Andrea and Jonah pretty much grew up together in Ardsley, NY. I watched them wrestle and laugh their way through adolescence, having a blast in each other’s company (even if at times, like brother and sister, they pushed apart). They went to summer camp together, school together, and temple together. And as you’ll read in Andrea’s story below, when they went off to college, they really enjoyed each other’s company there as well. While they’d made plenty of new friends, there was comfort in knowing the other was close by.

Jonah and Andrea, Confirmation @ WCT
June 2006

Andrea is graduating from UB on May 13 with a B.F.A. in Printmaking and a B.A. in Art History. Soon after, she’ll be moving to New Orleans, LA, where she’ll be working for the Degas Foundation.

Here are some memories that Andrea shared with me.

It was a Wednesday. I was quickly walking through the student union to avoid the crowds, when I stumbled into Jonah who immediately hugged me and invited me to join him as he noshed on his lunch. I gladly accepted. Our conversation was flowing, as it always did, and the laughter was unending, as that also always was. In fact, we were so excited about this funny encounter that two incredible things happened. First, we decided that the following week would consist of us hanging out daily (it being Spring Break and each of us planning on being back at the good ol’ homefront in Ardsley, NY). And second, we agreed that we needed to make plans for that very evening following my class. Around 6 pm, we met at the dining hall in Richmond and had dinner with some good friends. Afterwards, Jonah made us participate in something he was very excited for — a Purim carnival. We followed him there and played arcade games and dressed up in goofy, dollar-store costumes. Our laughter only grew louder and our cheeks began to ache from the smiles that never left our faces. Jonah had always been able to generate this exciting gust of energy that never diminished or fluttered away; it just grew stronger and stronger. This had been a night full of goofy performances and endless laughter between the best of friends.

I knew the Jonah who had gone off to college. In the six months he was at UB, he undoubtedly changed in those small ways that every kid does. But from all of these stories, it was definitely still him. The moment that Andrea recalls in her writing above, this could have happened during any of the years that she and he shared while growing up. This was the Jonah who had emerged from his brooding childhood, blossoming into a funny, caring and fearless young man, and taking his new community by storm. A very brief six months at UB, but with an impact that, for his new friends, might possibly last a lifetime.

For Andrea, those six months were built atop a decade of close friendship. No one could have known that this half a year would be the icing on the cake. It’s especially gratifying to know they created such great memories together.

The fall semester after Jonah died, Andrea wrote these thoughts to me:

I remember moving day last year when I was a freshman. I was walking to the UB bookstore with some friends when Jonah and Ellen were walking toward me in the parking lot outside the store. It was the first time I’d seen them in a while and without any sort of enthusiasm or crazy energy, we said our hellos and quickly shared our excitement for college and went on our way. Every time I saw Jonah (or Mac) after that, I was ALWAYS really excited and happy. We were always very glad to see each other.

It’s weird to start off this semester without the one friend I always had growing up with me. Every time I see his friends in the hallway, we share a remembering moment and then continue on our way. That’s the one thing I learned from Jonah; losing him was, and still is, beyond tragic. But being able to walk through the same halls he used to strut makes being here a little bit more comfortable. Jonah’s spirit is all over this place. The interactions everyone here seems to have with his spirit are incredible!

So what did I learn? I learned how to keep going and to bring parts of Jonah with me. He was a very inspiring person and I think he has a lot to do with the person I’m becoming.

A few months after that, Andrea wrote me again:

Billy, your son was so incredible and full of life. He taught me how to take every moment and to live it to its fullest, that we shouldn’t take things for granted and we should realize that we are given one life. Making that life count is our goal and our hope forever. Even though Jonah can’t be here, I think it’s important to keep his outlook on life in mind and to take every bit of Jonah with us as we grow. I plan on swaggering down hallways and streets for the rest of my life. And no, I will never be able to do that as well as Jonah but it’s worth the try.

I told Andrea that I won’t even try to imitate his swagger. It was his signature. He and I may have shared a whole lot of DNA, but there’s no way he got that walk from me. There was a while where I think the strut may have served to help him feel bigger than others around him. But by the time his spirit had grown to its epic proportions, the swagger had become a genuine symbol and expression of Jonah’s huge personality. I’ll never forget the way he entered a room, and I too will try and remember Jonah’s great lesson to us (which Andrea very accurately relates) — that life is time to be present, to be alive, to be authentic, and (most important of all) to be kind.

Not a bad legacy for that boy to leave us. As May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

On May 13, 2012, Jonah would have graduated from the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. To mark this occasion in a meaningful way, I have invited friends from his freshman year (who knew him as “Mac”) to share memories about him. These young people have opened for me a small window into the life Jonah had begun away from home. I hope this collection of stories opens that window for you.

Meet Tracy Questel. While she started out at UB intending to major in psychology, Tracy’s path carried her far beyond Buffalo, to the great land of Pittsburgh, PA. She currently works in billing for a company there, which gives her a fine excuse to spend lots of time with her fiancé, Bill. Going back to school, she tells me, is not out of the question. She liked to call Jonah “Macintosh.”

Here are some memories that Tracy shared with me.

When I was at UB, I was a lost soul, not attending class and not caring about school work at all. I only wanted to have fun and to hang out with friends, enjoying my freedom (being away from my parents) as much as I could. When the first semester was coming to an end and it was time to register for second semester classes, Mac went with me and we ended up having most of our classes together. I hadn’t realized his reasoning in doing this until now. He wanted to make sure I was going to class and doing the right thing.

A few weeks into the semester, even though I had Mac coming with me, I again stopped attending classes and stopped doing my homework. He became extremely upset with me and I didn’t understand why. But now I know that he was the only person I was friends with at UB who tried to help me be a better person. He cared about me, tried to encourage me and, most importantly, was a true friend.

Jonah and Tracy at their favorite table
Fall 2008

A second memory I have of Mac takes place one day when we were on our way back from English class. We were walking through the halls and Mac started singing ACDC’s “Big Balls” song VERY loudly. If you know the lyrics to the song, you would understand that this was very, very funny. Not only did he make me laugh hysterically as he kept singing the song word for word, strangers passing by would laugh too and I’m sure this had to brighten up someone’s day.

I had three roommates when I was at UB (as did he) and my roommates were very different than I was. They listened to pop music, liked everything to be pretty, pink and perfect, and would occasionally judge me because I was not like them. When they would start to gang up on me (which they did at times), I would leave my dorm room and Mac would be the first person I would text or call to go get coffee because I needed to vent. He would always drop what he was doing and meet me so I could talk to him. The funny faces he would randomly make, the way he would listen to music and pretend he was playing the drums, the way he would stand up for what he believed, and the way he was such a truly inspiring friend — these are all reasons why I can’t stop missing him, even though I’d only known for a brief period of time.

Jonah could be outrageous, that’s for sure. He had an overabundance of kinetic energy, and a powerful desire to be funny, so he’d resort to slapstick and vulgarity (see above) if that’s what it took to entertain his people. Not long after Jonah died, Tracy sent me a video she’d made of him on her phone. The images came from a bus ride, probably the return trip from some class they’d taken together. In it, she bade him, “Do something funny.” Never one to disappoint, or to back down from such a challenge, Jonah proceeded to fill the recording with very odd faces he’d somehow learned to make. There was much that Jonah knew how to do which I never realized he’d learned. He could fashion intricate origami designs which I’d find around the house and even in my study at temple. But even more surprising was that he’d somehow learned to play the piano. How is that even possible? I’ve played piano all my life, one has resided in our living room for nearly thirty years, and the first time I saw him sit down at it, he could play it!?

So a couple of funny faces I’d never seen before? I guess the only response would be, “Why should I know? I’m just the dad.”

Alongside this kid’s extreme silliness, there was always an earnest kindness, an authentic goodness that I don’t think he ever withheld from anyone. It’s a story I’ve heard, by now, dozens and dozens of times. Jonah dropped everything to be present for someone else in their moment of need. He did this for his friends. He did this for his family. And he even did this for strangers.

I wondered about what Jonah might say to Tracy, after haven taken her by the hand to get to classes and then finding out she’d not finished the program. I tried to channel him when I wrote these words to his college friend: “Different paths, Tracy. They’re all the right ones if they bring you contentment and joy. I know one of the happiest garbage collectors in the world, because he enjoys his work, the people he works with, and the life that surrounds it. The job’s not the goal; life is.”

Jonah’s path was not my path. His choices were not my choices. But when I find myself wondering what he might have done with his life had he been around to live it, I keep coming up with the same answer. He’d have been a great friend.

We miss Jonah, but as May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

This is probably a surprising statement to hear a father say about his son who died young, but Jonah was a very lucky guy. I mean it. He possessed some very special gifts. Like an electrified and magnetic personality. And a heart of gold. We don’t all get those. Jonah did, and he used his gifts well. But there were more. Each one of Jonah’s friends had been a precious boon to his life. And he had a whole lot of friends. I suppose it was only natural, owing to his being both goofy and kind in one package. Who could resist that?

On May 13, 2012, a little more than a week from now, Commencement Exercises will be held at the State University of New York’s University at Buffalo. This was to have been Jonah’s college graduation. I’ve had the date in my calendar since Jonah started UB four years ago. It is certainly an understatement to say that Jonah won’t be there.

In trying to figure out what else I might do (besides cry) to mark this first significant moment in Jonah’s post-March 5, 2009, timeline (which, for me, continues forever, even without him here), I thought it might be meaningful to reach out to some of his friends from freshman year, and ask them to each share a memory about their college chum. So this next bunch of entries in “A Thread That Has No End” will feature words written by Jonah’s college friends. I hope they open for you a small window into the life he’d begun there.

I have to tell you, though, as much as I enjoyed being in touch with these young people (most of whom I met when my family and I flew to Buffalo upon learning of Jonah’s death), I’ve learned something from them about perspective. While Jonah’s going off to college was a BIG deal in my life, the actual time he spent there was not. A mere six months. No big deal. In the four-year experience of a college student, those six months were brief and long ago. But Jonah’s time with this group was good, and it was affirming. It left deep impressions. On Jonah. On them all.

Meet Lexi Milford. She graduated from UB last Spring (2011), with a Bachelors of Arts degree in photography. She’s hoping to pursue a Master of Fine Arts, possibly in the field of Medical Illustration. She had been a good friend to Jonah. He felt grateful to have her in his life.

Here’s the memory Lexi shared with me.

It was late one night, probably closer to the early hours of the morning. I was awake for no reason really, finishing a drawing or just monkeying around on the computer, when I received a text message from Mac. “Meet me in Fillmore in ten.” He knew of my insomniac behavior and knew as well that I would respond (he was probably bored on his computer as well). So off I trotted from the Porter dorms to the Fillmore lecture hall, a common hang-out spot for us. We sat in the furthest seats facing the blackboard, talking about nothing in particular, and musing how quiet it is in the dorms this evening. The conversation turned to how we always seem to stay in only one section of the dorms. Why don’t we ever explore? And with that, we left the lecture hall in search of somewhere new.

A frequent theme in our conversations was the perception of reality. So as we walked through the empty halls, I joked that we were really the only people living in the dorms. He took it a step further, bringing up the “brain in a jar” theory, that this was all in fact in his imagination. Like a video game, each section of the dorms, and of reality, loaded as we moved into it. None of it had existed until his mind had created it.

Surprisingly, we came to a door that, in our previous adventures, had been locked but was now ajar. We went in, of course, and it turned out to be a rather beautiful theater. We climbed up into the rafters and looked down at all the seats. Mac had a big grin on his face as he moved from the stage to the seats and then to the sound room. Occasionally, he shouted something to listen to the echo, testing the ambiance I’m guessing.

Continuing our conversation, I questioned how he knew it wasn’t me who was creating this instead. If his mind had created it, how could I go and do things apart from hanging with him? As clever as ever, Mac responded that his mind would use logic, of course, and have her send a text message and create other moments “outside” of his view. It was only natural. He further explained that his own consciousness was like an audience member attending a movie or a play. His subconscious was the director, controlling each twist and turn of the story. That way, the audience (the conscious Jonah) always remained surprised, all of life’s experiences new and interesting. But I, Lexi, was merely a player in his story. All of my emotions and expressions were exactly how one should feel. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been a convincing movie.

I remained silent and we left the little theater we had found to continue walking and talking. I never was able to refute his idea. He kept me mildly wondering (for a good week after) whether I might in fact be that imaginary friend. Our debate of who was real and what was real continued for some time after that particular evening.

In addition to our conversation, I love this moment because of the expression of sheer joy Mac had in that theater. The look on his face was that of a kid in a candy store (though he often seemed amused by things, like he had some sort of joke none of us were getting). I didn’t know until later that Mac had loved theater. Looking back, I now understand why he was so pleased by our finding that theater in the middle of the night.

Late-night philosophy when we’re young is the best! But it’s also the stuff of lifelong memory. I recall (with great affection) spending a night between floors in an elevator (voluntarily) with two of my best friends. It was in that tiny, cramped space, in the wee hours of the morning, that we pieced together the wisdom of the universe (well, as much as our 16-year-old minds could fathom). To this day, that conversation remains a treasured image from my youth. Jonah and Lexi gave this same gift to each other in that inadvertently unlocked theatre, and she may very well carry that gift forever.

Jonah’s love for theatre had really defined his high school years. We’d never expected him to pursue it professionally but we kind of knew he’d always love it deeply. Chancing upon that stage in the middle of the night would have triggered a wonderful moment for him. Nothing more magical or enchanting could have been hidden behind that door!

To me, memories of Jonah in college seem like only yesterday. And it feels like he was there for a long, long time. But that’s my mind and heart magnifying those final moments of his life. As Lexi and Jonah’s other friends have taught me, it was really only a brief moment that he was in Buffalo. A cherished memory, to be sure, but only a brief one.

Philosophers and playwrights will tell us that life is brief no matter how many years we’re permitted to live it. The key is to live each moment well, and to cherish the memories that follow. Those of us who knew Jonah, we got to watch a master. In his short life, he had learned to live more fully and genuinely than many will do in eight, nine, or even ten decades.

We miss Jonah, but as May 13, 2012, approaches, these are some of his commencement gifts to us.

Billy

P.S. “Commencement Gifts” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s very first fundraiser. Thinking of what might have been Jonah’s graduation on May 13, 2012, we “commence” the work of what I hope will be a worthwhile participant in the not-for-profit community. Please consider making a tax-deductible gift at https://www.jonahmac.org by Sunday, May 13 (okay, or any other time). Thank you.

Since Jonah’s death, there have been any number of activities I’ve not engaged in, some because I haven’t been ready, and others because I’m basically a very lazy person and haven’t wanted to expend the energy. This story fits into both categories.

When I was a little boy, I loved when my dad would cut up celery and throw the pieces into a jar of pickle juice (minus the already-eaten pickles). He grew up poor in New Jersey and I imagine this was one of those “delicacies” his family could afford back then. Also, since a child’s favorite foods seem to remain that way for life, pickled celery found a new shelf-life in the fridge of our upper middle-class home. So many times, I witnessed him continuing the practice that had been a tasty part of his own childhood. This, by the way, was also how I came to enjoy jelly juice (I can remember, as a young boy, watching my dad sit at the kitchen table with a tall glass of water, stirring in a spoonful or two of grape jelly) and chewing gum (boxes of which he always kept in the left-hand drawer of the desk at his office).

Jonah loved pickled celery too (see “Shout-outs,” March 9, 2010). As he’s the only one of my three children who ever cared for it, it certainly makes me wonder why. But actually, I was such a picky eater, it’s a curiosity how this peculiar little dish ever found its way into my life. Jonah had been a little more adventurous with food so, once it arrived to our home, it’s not so surprising that he gave it a try. Because he was enthusiastic about continuing this old-time, somewhat quirky tradition, I reveled in serving as the bridge between the generation before me and the one after.

G’pa Herman shares first secrets of pickling with Jonah
February 1990

I suspect that, given time, we’d have discovered more commonalities between Jonah and his Grandpa Herman. There had been more visits with Ellen’s parents when the kids were little, so we got a chance to see that Jonah had shared with Grandpa Jake an insatiable curiosity about how things work, an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and an unremitting passion to make sure that people are okay. But as far as Grandpa Herman’s interests were concerned, we can only wonder. Jonah never much cared for golf or tennis (or any other sport, for that matter … although he would have delighted in the time my dad put the wet golf balls in the oven and nearly burnt our house down). Academics, in Jonah’s eyes, were a universe away from curiosity and knowledge; my dad would never have been pleased with Jonah’s schoolwork, but I have a feeling they would have eventually shared a love for reading. And Jonah would simply never have tolerated my dad’s willingness to lose money in the stock market; Jonah held on tightly to his savings and, despite his distinctly liberal political views, was very much a fiscal conservative when it came to his own purchasing power (see “Eating (In and) Out of House and Home – Part Two,” August 13, 2010, for more about Jonah and spending money).

But pickled celery? My guess is, it hasn’t skipped a generation of Dreskin men yet (even though Aiden may never let it sully his own gastronomic purity). Since Jonah and I were both great practitioners of slothness, it would always take a long time before we’d muster up the ten minutes to clean, slice and immerse the celery into the juice. We’d then keep a close eye on one another throughout the three days of the pickling process. Our motto was, “No pickled piece of produce before its time.” And woe to the soul that got caught with his fingers in the pickle jar before three days had come and gone. When the celery was ready, we’d heartily consume the batch in just one or two sittings. I relished these moments with my son. 🙂

A week or so back, for the first time in the three years since Jonah left us, I made a batch of pickled celery. The ten minutes of preparation time went smoothly, though not without a sigh or two that he wasn’t there. Three days later, I ate the celery. It was as good as ever. Maybe even a little better, because there’s a remembering that now goes along with it (and a tiny part of me really liked that I didn’t have to share it with anyone). But I get what’s going on: I’m eating for two now.

It’s kind of nice not having anyone stick their fingers in the jar. I interrogated the rest of the family to assess any likely threat that others might make a grab for the tiny, marinated morsels. But they’re all mine now. For better and worse, I’m on my own.

I’m glad pickled celery has come back into my life. I used to smile as Jonah and I prepared the concoction, thinking of how much my dad had enjoyed it. Now, I’ll smile when I think of how much they’d both liked it.

And if you should happen to stop by when a batch is ready, I may even let you have a piece of two.

Billy