Thomases Promises, by Martha Thomases – Brilliant Disguise

August 22, 2009 Martha Thomases 9 Comments

Today is my Dad’s birthday.  So instead of another scream against the despair that is our national conversation on health care reform, I thought it would be more pleasant and more upbeat to talk about him.

 

On August 22, 1923, my father was born to Clayre and Arthur Thomases. For some reason (I can only infer they were horribly cruel), they named him “Irwin,” and then gave him no middle name.  Yes, my father is an IT.  

 

Irwin went to school, went to summer camp, went to Yankee games  – all the things young boys from the Bronx did in their youth at that time.  His Bar Mitzvah was at camp, and his party consisted of giving all his fellow campers ice cream bars (at least as far as family legend has it).  It wasn’t Andy Hardy, but it wasn’t the Dead End Kids, either. 

 

Like so many of his generation, he served in the Army during World War II.  He was stationed in Harlingen, Texas, where he saw no combat and learned how to cook.  

 

When he returned to New York, he went to City College.  He met my mom a few years later through a blind date.  My parents were married in 1950.  Soon after I was born, they left the city.  

 

My dad then took the first steps to building his new career as a shopping center developer.  There weren’t many shopping centers at the time, because there weren’t many suburbs.  He tells me stories about riding around in his car with Hank Goldberger, president of Hills Discount Department Stores, his biggest client.  They’d be in the hills of West Virginia, or Kentucky, or some other unde-reserved area, looking at lots and traffic patterns, trying to find the right place to build.

 

In the process, my dad made a living.  He also built something that served the needs of the people of these communities, including providing much-needed jobs.

 

My parents were together for more than 30 years.  My mom was no shrinking violet.  Instead, she was opinionated, intelligent, and curious.  Their marriage wasn’t easy, but they stayed together, showing me that love will win out.  When my father re-married, it was to another intelligent, curious, opinionated woman.  His example proved to me that good men value women who are individuals, not reflections or trophies.  

 

His friends were all different kinds of people.  At work, his partners were two Lebanese brothers and a WASP from Pittsburgh.  He was friends with other people who belonged to our synagogue, parents of my friends, and people he met through work.  He always said that he thought people from Youngstown, Ohio, are the most interesting in the world, but I think he’s just so curious and open that he finds everyone’s unique story.

 

And, unlike a lot of men of his generation and level of success, my dad enjoyed his kids.  He’d take us to the office with him when he had to go in on Saturday mornings.  He and my mom organized Sunday night squirt gun fights in the summer, so all the neighborhood kids could come over to get drenched.  He’d take us trick’r’treating on Halloween.  We’d walk the dog together after dinner, discussing whatever news of the world we finished hashing out over dinner.  He showed me people could disagree without being disagreeable.

 

He also showed me how to be agreeable.  If you talk to my father for any longer than five minutes, he’ll tell you a joke.  It will be terrible, but you will laugh at its awfulness.  

 

Most important, he showed by example that the purpose of a Jewish life is to leave the world better than we find it.  Through his philanthropy, his generosity with his time as well as money, his work and his relationships, he does that every day.

 

Happy birthday, Daddy.  Here’s to 86 more.

 
 

Fort those who wish to continue to discuss health care reform, Media Goddess Martha Thomases suggests this as a starting point.