KaddishJournal.com

It was one of the big days in Dad’s life. We were in Grandma and Grandpa’s kitchen and he came to say, “I love you” to his parents for the first time. I was a teenager, close to twenty, so that made Dad around fifty. I remember noticing how nervous he seemed as he was mustering up the courage to say it. He put his hands on his hips (which I had never seen him do, before or since), and said, “I realize that I’ve never said this to you, but I want you to know – I love you.”

 

What a moment! I could see the relief on Dad’s face and his nervousness melted away instantly. I don’t remember what they said, in return. I was just so focused on the magnitude of his life event, and my realization that “I love you” was something that we never said at home.

 

But Dad (Bernie – or Buynahd, as his parents called him) changed. He told his parents, “I love you,” and then I found the courage to say, “I love you,” and we’ve been saying it ever since. If I hadn’t witnessed this moment in my father’s life, and made a change in myself, I would be a much different person and a much different mother. I am so grateful to him for that. I thought that we had said everything to each other – that there was really nothing that was left unsaid – but now I realize that I never said this to him. “Thank you, Dad, for teaching me how to say, “I love you.”

 

Dad was a loving father, and always said, “I love all of my children, and all of my grandchildren.” When I was young, I didn’t want to share him with anyone - From the time I was little, he was tall, dark and handsome, with a voice that touched my soul – and of course, I had to get over the stage when I’d dream that Mom would die, so I could marry him.

 

Although I always loved Dad and knew that he always loved us, when I was young, I never realized that he loved being a father so much. As he got older, he talked about how much he loved his children and how he felt they were his biggest accomplishment.

 

Then, last year or so, he said to me, “You know, there comes a time in a parent’s life when he has to come to terms with the fact that his children will be a disappointment to him.” Not quite believing what I just heard, I asked him to explain – and he did – about how you have to come to terms with the fact that you have certain expectations or fantasies about what your children will grow up to be – and then they grow up to be different from that. I said, “Okay Dad - but I’m not sure that’s something you should share with your children!”

 

Whether you liked what he said or not, he made a big impression. His closest friend, Herb Shook, said that he was always drawn to him. His charisma, his musical talent and his emotional accessibility drew people to him. He enjoyed the attention and he enjoyed showing people a good time.

 

My father was born a musician. He wrote the school song for his high school, he attended New England Conservatory to study music composition, and then Hartt School of Music. His first instrument was the clarinet, and he played in orchestras and bands to earn money. He taught himself how to play the piano when he was in his twenties, and he’s been playing it ever since. He composed, arranged and orchestrated music. He could play most of the instruments, and he could teach them all.

 

Dad loved being a musician. He liked to tell this story about the time he was in the Navy. He and his crew had just come on board and the officer in charge got them together and said, “Do we have any musicians on board?” He and some other musicians proudly shot their hands into the air - and the officer said, “Good. Come with me. We have a piano that needs to me moved.”

 

It didn’t take the young Bernie long to figure out that it was very difficult to make a living as a musician, and he decided to go into business. When we were little, he opened a toy store on Main Street called Kiddy Fair. Cousin Martha has always talked about her precious memory of her Uncle Bernie. He gave her a dollar and said, “Okay, now you can buy anything you want in the store.”

 

He’d tell the story about how Grandma would help out in the store. She was a great salesperson. She was working at the register. A woman was trying to make a decision about a potty seat. Grandma said, “It does EVERYTHING.” The woman made a NEGATIVE comment, and Grandma said, “In that case, I’ll wrap it up.”

 

Anyway, the big toy store chains moved in and Kiddy Fair went out of business. Along the way, he was in sales, and he stumbled upon a company that gave him an idea for a business – which he started when he was 45. It was a success, and he was generous.

 

One day, just last year, when I was making phone calls for work, I came across an old neighbor. I asked if she knew Bernie Karlin, and she said, “Of course I know him. He was our neighbor.” I said, “He’s my father.” She said, “What a wonderful man he is. When he heard that my husband was out of work, he came over, knocked on our door, handed my husband $3,000 and said, ‘I’ve been there. I hope this helps.”’

 

Dad loved tennis, and in Colorado, he could play outside, all-year-round. He talked about how sunny it always is in Colorado, and the altitude makes it warm – even in the winter – and he loved to be able to play tennis 3 times a week. He enjoyed his tennis friends. He talked about how KIND they were to still play with him, even though he couldn’t run anymore. He said, “They’re nice enough to hit the ball to me, and I hit it.”

 

We had a good laugh about the sunny days in Colorado. For a long time after he moved here, every single time I talked with him, he mentioned how sunny it was. I came to visit, and it was cloudy for a whole week – the sun didn’t come out once. From then on, I said that I didn’t believe him when he said that it was always sunny there, and he laughed every time. He laughed more and more as time went on, and said, “yes sir – life is meant for us to have fun. You have to have fun, honey.” I said, “Gee, Dad – you’ve gotten so happy. He said, “ya – I guess I wasn’t always like that, was I. What a blessing that he had become a happy person.

 

Dad spent his adult life in a battle with his body. He had knee replacements, hip replacements, shoulder surgery and a quadruple by-pass. He had adult diabetes and then beat it. He lost weight, and gained weight and lost it – over and over again. A few years ago, he gathered his children together, told us about all of his health issues, including a few that he had kept from us, and he pleaded with us to eat healthfully, so we would be free from the same pain.

 

His sister, Phyllis, said “He had an interesting life – a lot of pleasure and a lot of pain.”

In the middle of conversation, Dad would be reminded of a poem, and he’d start reciting it. He told me to focus on one of his favorite poems:

Invictus

By: William Ernest Henley; 1849-1903

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

 

Dad spent his last years on earth doing what he loved – teaching music – and he rejoiced in his students’ accomplishments. He spent many happy years with his best friend and great love, Lynn. He was at peace with the decisions that he made in his life and every day, when he woke up, he was grateful for another day. He became a happy, contented man. He died without suffering and without the pain that he feared. He loved and was loved by many. What more could anyone ask for – except more time.

 

Dad always talked about how much he missed his father – how he thought about him everyday. Now I will miss my father, and think about him everyday.

 

When Dad touched people, he touched them on a very deep level and a very permanent way. While I believe I’ve always known that, when I spoke with my cousin, Brian, from California – who is here with us today, I was once again reminded of the very special role my Dad played in each of our lives.

 

Dad was not one to make distinctions. When I was younger, this was a difficult concept to grasp, because, like every little girl, I wanted to be his one and only. As I grew older, I was proud to realize that there was enough of Dad to go around for everybody – and that included my cousins, my brothers and sister – and their families. He loved all of us as his children. Now, what was once jealousy, is a legacy – appreciation, respect, and love for an open heart.

 

He had a very special place in his heart for all of his friends and students, who continued to give his life a daily purpose. He loved the feeling of helping his students, and he was very proud of them. He cared about them SO much.

 

“It’s a Wonderful Life” was our favorite movie together for many years. We never know how many lives we touch.

 

Let us spend this day celebrating his very special life, the life of Bernie Karlin - and our very special connection to him - and let us remember how he touched all our lives.