A Walk Down Memory Lane

Shabbos Nachamu is even more special for me than for most as it’s my bar mitzvah parsha. I remember how 55 years ago my parents hosted a magnificent kiddush in Saltzman’s bungalow colony even though two weeks later they would make an elaborate bar mitzvah weekend (as was the custom at the time) in the Pine View Hotel. I still recall my mother preparing a gigantic and beautiful salad with vegetables of every possible color. It was simply magnificent to look at.

Recently, after I gave an interview, one listener left a very meaningful comment. He wrote that he remembered listening to me give drashos in the Granite Hotel 50 years ago. He also included that he was inspired by me then and is still inspired by me to this day.

This kind comment jogged my memory of how my father, Reb Aron Tzvi ben Reb Meir, Heshy Weiss, zt”l, zy”a, brought our family to a Pesach hotel (although we certainly were not rich). We went for the specific purpose of launching my harbatzas Torah career. And how he succeeded! Those years in the “Granite” gave me the confidence and experience to prepare shiurim for large audiences which propelled my lifetime as a marbitz Torah. As it was recently my father’s yahrzeit, on gimmel Av, this remark from the interview generated a pleasant and meaningful walk down memory lane.

I remember that we lived on 14^th Avenue and 46^th Street in Boro Park. And on Ft. Hamilton Parkway, there were fabulously sumptuous cinnamon buns, thick, sweet and juicy, that were baked at a bakery called Sable’s. Every Friday, Daddy went far out of his way (this was definitely not the closest kosher bakery) to buy these cinnamon buns for our Shabbos pleasure.

In the 60s, like most young children, my brothers and I were into baseball cards. We used to flip them at recess and trade them, trying to get an entire team. I remember one time, Daddy came home wearing a thick overcoat and, as we greeted him, he said, “What do I have in my pocket?” and he pulled out a pack of cards for each of us! As we squealed in delight, he rattled his other pocket and said, “Wait! What do I have here?” and pulled out another two packs of cards. How happy he made us, and look how I remember these joyful occasions and emotions 55 years later!

This is our job as parents: To make memories for our children. We never know when we will hit a home run and a particular memory will impact a lifetime.

As children of the 60s, we enjoyed reading Hardy Boys books. Daddy would regularly check Linick’s Toy Store to see whether the newest book in the series came out, and he would promptly buy it for us to our great enjoyment.

Daddy would attend all my shiurim. I still remember how he complimented me on a well-prepared and structured shiur. I also remember how, during one drasha, I mispronounced the word “catholicism,” saying instead “catholokism.” After the shiur, he came over to me and told me, “That can’t happen again. If you’re not absolutely certain how to pronounce a word, then don’t use it.” Once again, Daddy gave a lesson that served me well for over half a century.

I want to share a story with you of what a father’s reaction can accomplish even if it’s given at a moment where rebuke might be called for. This story has been preserved in the Otzros Peninei HaTorah. When the incredible Skver Village of New Square, N.Y., was opened, the late Skverer Rebbe, HaRav Yakov Yosef Twersky, zt”l, zy”a, spoke at the groundbreaking ceremony. He proclaimed publicly that this tremendous milestone was made possible by the tutelage of his father. He cited the following amazing anecdote.

When the future Rebbe Yakov Yosef was a young child, he had a very rambunctious nature. His father, the Rebbe, had on his stately desk an inkwell and quill. The curious future Rebbe desperately wanted to use it. The Rebbe, however, didn’t let him, because ink was very expensive in those days and also because of his fear that his energetic son would proceed to write on the walls or on his clothing, etc. The Rebbe, therefore, would keep the inkwell and quill on the highest shelf of a locked closet. The young lad, however, was patient and waited for his opportunity.

One day, the Rebbe had to leave suddenly. In his haste, he put the inkwell on the top shelf but didn’t lock the closet. The young Yakov Yosef promptly seized the opportunity. He pushed the Rebbe’s heavy desk toward the closet and climbed on top. However, alas, he still couldn’t reach it. So, he brought the Rebbe’s coveted chair to the desk and somehow managed to place it on top of the desk. Next, he climbed onto the chair, and finally, cradled in his hands, he had the coveted inkwell.

Just as he was about to descend, still holding the inkwell, the door opened and the Rebbe walked in. Yakov Yosef was so panicked at the pending reaction of his father that he dropped the inkwell which shattered on the desk and, even worse, the ink splattered upon some of the Rebbe’s precious seforim. At that moment, his holy father walked over to the child and, with a smile, gave him a kiss on the forehead and said, “Yankele, with such a powerful ratzon, there is no end to how many wonderful things you will be able to accomplish.”

Years later, HaRav Yakov Yosef, now the Grand Rebbe, at the groundbreaking ceremony continued by declaring how his father’s words germinated in his mind and he made a commitment to have the will to achieve many good things. And it was only because of this lesson that he was able to accomplish the almost impossible task of creating Shikun Skver.

This is the power that we, parents and grandparents, have: To make memories and launch careers and ambitions with the seeds that we plant, with what we say and do, for our descendants.

In the merit of striving to leave our mark on our progeny, may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

Transcribed and edited by Shelley Zeitlin.