When Your Father Is An Actual Superhero
And Nothing You Do Will Ever Measure Up, Then What?
Well, you start by going into a total depression because you decide—early on—life is unfair. Though it isn’t really, it just feels that way because whatever you attempt to become will always pale in comparison. But you don’t give up, you don’t off yourself either because that would be lame, so you keep moving forward.
Fifty years ago today, my dad passed away weeks before my high school graduation. To be honest, having cut 122 days of school that year, it would have been one of the few days I’d have actually shown up. Yes, I was a cutter because that was the one thing I managed to excel in for being the son of a superhero. I became an antihero.
Let me clarify. My dad (that guy pictured above) was sent to a work camp in Siberia during World War II. After surviving the gulags, my father joined the resistance group Bricha (translation: Flight), which saved over 300,000 Holocaust survivors by shepherding them through the Austrian Alps and down the length of Italy to boats on the Mediterranean, waiting to take them to freedom in what we now call Israel.
[SIDEBAR] Survivors of the Holocaust—having suffered ACTUAL GENOCIDE—had their hearts set on returning to Mount Zion, where the Jewish religion originated over 3,000 years ago. Centuries before Christianity and Islam were even a fleck of dust on this planet, mind you. The term Zionism is a made-up political football that Jews don’t historically play well. So throw that bullshit to someone else.
[SIDEBAR CONTINUED] Jews yearned for the freedom to return to their ACTUAL HOMELAND. But rather than go into a soliloquy about why all you people better shut the fuck up about who belongs where, just take your newfound LACK OF compassion and understanding about that region and register to vote BLUE. But I digress.
Back to my needing not to be depressed about knowing I will never measure up to the fabulosity that was my dad’s superhero-ness. A man who gave my family a beautiful life worth living. Who also lent a hand to those in need on countless occasions. I remember being in awe of his generosity as a child.
Finishing my book Won't Be Silent—Don’t Stop ‘til It Matters has helped me come to terms and move through the angst of never feeling like I would be enough into this beautiful space of joy, self-love, and respect. It’s an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling that I’ve earned my place here while I am still here.
In any event, may you live up to your potential and be your best self no matter what you decide to do. If you can look in the mirror and say I love you and mean it, that’s a major accomplishment right there.
Peace—literally & figuratively…
Abe
PS…Listening to my Audiobook while walking can be very meditative and hilarious.
“Won't Be Silent—Don’t Stop ‘til It Matters”
Embracing my superpowers of humor and optimism to survive being a second-generation Holocaust survivor, coming out, addiction, and endless unbelievable obstacles.”
You fight for justice, too, Abe. Your dad would be proud!
Abe, your Dad would be proud of you now...fighting as he did for Truth, Justice and the American Way.