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In Memory of My Father (July/August 2008)

A true story is told of a wealthy and powerful man, who owned a great factory. Each day, as he entered the gates of his factory, he would stop for a few minutes and talk with the guard, inquiring about the guard’s family, his health, and so on. And each night, when he left the factory to go home, the owner would stop at the gate, ask the guard about his day, and say goodnight.

One late afternoon, the owner of the factory was in the basement, and became accidentally locked in one of the large freezers. He yelled for help and banged heavily on the steel door, but it was in vain, for no one could hear him. After a few hours, he sat down on the cold floor, and resigned himself to freezing to death. But suddenly, the large steel door swung open, and there stood the guard from the front gate.

“How did you know I was down here?” asked the factory owner.

“Each night, for twenty years, you have stopped to ask about my wife and family in the morning, and to say goodnight to me in the evening. When you didn’t stop by this evening, I knew that something was wrong, and came looking for you.”

And the owner’s life was therefore saved.

What a wonderful story this is about the importance of the connections we make with people – all people - who make up our lives. What a wonderful lesson it holds about taking the time to connect not only with our family and close friends, but also with each and every person we encounter every day.

This story was told by my sister at the memorial service held in honor of my father, Dr. Alvin Finestone (z”l), who passed away last month. Although he never owned a factory, my father always took the time to get to know each and every person he encountered each and every day.

Throughout his years as a physician, my father took the time to talk with and get to know each one of his patients, remembering the details of their lives when he would see them months or even years later. Throughout his years as an avid gardener, he took the time to talk with and get to know the neighbor who swapped cuttings with him, the owner of the plant nursery where he loved to go, and the young man who would help him plant his seedlings and trim his fruit trees.

Throughout his years as a passionate and knowledgeable Zionist, he would take the time to talk with and get to know Christians and Jews, from all parts of America, who shared his support of Israel. And throughout his final months, he would take the time to talk with and get to know the nurses and caregivers who helped him during the day, and, at times, in the middle of the night.

Throughout that memorial service, person after person, from all aspects of my father’s life, stepped up to the podium, and spoke of how my father always knew them, remembered them, of how he would always ask about their family and their lives, and how he would always make them feel noticed, important, and cared for. It didn’t matter whether it was the head of the hospital or the janitor who cleaned the hospital floors at night – my father made a connection with them all. I know that my father touched many lives as a physician; but he touched even more as a person who always took the time to notice the other, and to make that connection.

This is part of the legacy my father gave to me, and to all who knew him. In memory of my father, may I endeavor to take the time to always notice the other, to talk with them, to get to know them, whether that person is a colleague, a neighbor, a student, or even the mail carrier. In honor of my father, may I try to make each person I encounter feel important and cared for, just as he did. And with the gifts my father gave me, may I help guide others to do the same.