As a child I didn’t encounter that many other Jews. On my mother’s side of the family, I met only adults who were fully Americanized originally from 19th century Germany, whose connection to Judaism had only faint connections to Jewish life. I am sure that there were children from my mother’s side of the family, but I just don’t remember any interactions with them. My maternal grandfather had died in the early 1930s when my mom was only five years old. His family had settled in Cincinnati, 100 miles to the northeast of my home in Louisville. I recall one visit to Cincinnati when I was 5 or 6 and hearing about a male relative who had lived to age 95. I claimed that age as my goal in life since it seemed like an eternity at the time! Of course, I will turn 76 next month with 95 two decades off. Hopefully, I will be finished writing my story by then! If not, then I will switch my goal to match the goal of many Jews—the 120 years that Moses lived!
My father’s parents came to America from traditional Orthodox Jewish life in Ukraine in the first decade of the 20th century. They had also become Americanized, but had stronger connections to traditional Jewish life. I never met my paternal grandfather. He died in his mid-fifties when my father was only 10. [Neither of my parents had a father present in their formative years. Maybe that explains why they couldn’t make their marriage work. They had no model for the male parental role to emulate.] My Uncle Herman Wasserman was 17 at the time and he stepped in to help my grandmother Sarah in raising my dad, Marvin.
Uncle Herman was an important influence in my life, more so than my father who began to find his way to shalom late in life. Herman was the most loving, caring, generous and gentle person I have ever met—he radiated shalom. Friday Shabbat meals in his home with Aunt Blanche and their children, Neil and Janie, along with grandma Sarah, constituted the most powerful Jewish influence in my life. It wasn’t the outward Jewishness that they exposed me to. Rather it was something appealing in the way they lived. To this day, the life I experienced with them is my most treasured Jewish memory and one of the standards by which I evaluate my own life.
Left to right: Jeff - Grandma Sarah - Marvin (Dad)
1967
My high school circle of acquaintances included a half-dozen Jewish kids who were mostly from assimilated and strongly secularized Jewish families—culturally and intellectually disconnected to traditional Orthodox Judaism. At that time, Orthodoxy represented only about 10% of American Jewish life. Other Jewish kids that I encountered were forced to attend events and classes at the Reform congregation where my mother and step-father were members. That didn’t work or even appeal at all to me, my Jewish acquaintances or even to my step-brother or sisters.
I don’t remember ever attending a Bar Mitzvah (Bat Mitzvahs for girls were not a “thing” for my social circle in the 1960s). I did attend some Bar Mitzvah parties—dances at Standard Country Club, a Jewish country club where my mother, step-father and my father had membership. I had a few acquaintances I met there around the swimming pool and tennis courts during the summer months. Those dances featured leading local rock ’n roll bands on the Louisville scene. The two I remember the most distinctly were The Epics and The Monarchs, both of whom had recordings in the pre-Beatles 60s on national Top 40 radio. This was in the days when musicians had slicked-back oily hairstyles. In spite of the “greaser” personas, I was drawn to the simplicity and rawness of the music.
When I was in 7th grade (1961), my mother, who played piano by ear, suggested that I could quit my struggles with piano lessons. She suggested that I could take guitar lessons instead. That energized me and I started lessons on a $5 rental guitar. For my birthday that year, my father bought me my first electric guitar and a tiny amplifier. I remember the day when we went into Durlauf’s Music Shop and came out with a Gibson 330 in cherry red. This guitar was an expensive top-of-the line model that the pros played! I could barely play two of the six strings, but I treasured that guitar.
Durlauf’s Guitar Shop
My guitar and me
By 1962, I was playing in a neighborhood rock bands and in 1965, we were the band playing at the country club Bar Mitzvahs, as well as school dances, parties and even at “band battles” at the Kentucky Fair and Exposition Center twice. Three years later, we took first place and were rewarded with a big trophy and an appearance on a local TV music show. At the peak of our success, we graduated high school and left for different universities.
(Left to right) Simon - Jeff - Ron
1962 neighborhood jam-session
(Left to right) Jeff - Buzzy - Ray (drums) - Randy - Ben
Battle of the Bands -1965
Jeff Buzzy Ben
Ray
Buzzy Jeff Ray
At Westport High School - 1967
With Jon (bass) and Bruce (vocals)
At Westport High School - 1967
My closest friendships were with my fellow band members and my high school basketball team. None of them were Jewish.
So, why tell you all of this? Well, at age 50 in 1999, I was finally in a circle of Jews. Instead of being tossed into the pool of Jewish life as my father had tossed me into that pool in Miami [111 — Teaching Myself to Swim (Fall 1987)], I was wading into Jewish life and would learn to swim in a Jewish “circle” (Hakafa) by my own choosing and at my own pace. After all, a journey is best undertaken one step at a time.
