I’d like to think that if there is an afterlife, I’m glad this funeral isn’t on a Sunday. Dad would be flipping the afterlife remote control between being here with all of us and the game. And of course, he would be doing so for two reasons… first, let’s be clear, he’d want to know the score of the game, but second, Dad would be profoundly uncomfortable with all of us saying really wonderful things about him. So, as we say goodbye to Sheldon and say all the things we love so much about him, I just want you to imagine that great laugh of his – and picture him changing the channel to the Giants game or his beloved adopted Miami Dolphins, because he could have never sat through this.
Dad was one of those people who had no idea how wonderful he was. He was the most down-to-earth person you could know. A WWII veteran. He was more learned than most people with college degrees-self taught-an autodidact.( I heard that term in a recent movie and thought That’s what Dad is) The absolute joy he had in learning new things was infectious. He conveyed the utter privilege in a formal education-one he so sadly was denied in this life. Sitting in the evenings studying the law with him. Those are the moments with my Dad that I cherish the most, because it was this window that let me know that as important as it was for me that he was proud of who I was, he wanted me to be proud of who he was as well. Needless to say, I was always incredibly proud to call Sheldon Wolt my Dad.
How could I not be proud of Sheldon? He spent his life taking care of his family, loving his Wife and learning . . . always learning. I hope there is an afterlife. It would be nice to think that Sheldon could have another life and have all that he missed in this one, but one thing he did not miss in this life, was the undying, loyal and consistent love for one woman, his wonderful wife, and the love of his children. Jay who sadly could not be here today because of his own serious health problems. He had a considerable, powerful intellect and I have no doubt that he could have been anything that he dared to dream of being and I know he’ll take that with him. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. And more than that, he had a fundamental and powerful respect for the people he loved. The people he called his family and friends. He never put on heirs, he never pretended to be anything he was not. It was take him or leave him. He was what he was. The lucky few of us that got to experience that are all the richer for it.
Because Dad’s intellect was really only matched by his humility..a humility that came from a few deeply held beliefs. One was the idea that the purpose of life was that you should try to leave the world a little bit better off because you happened to live in it, and the other was that every person had a right to dignity and a fair shake at life. He always remarked that he was on borrowed time having suffered heart failure in his 50’s and having one of the first by-pass surgeries in the country, I think he thought he cheated death. What he didn’t realize was that people in his world needed him and that’s why he stayed with us so long.
We were kindred spirits in a way both having been reared by cold and distant fathers. Having both worked hard and achieved some measure of success, yet always feeling a little less than equal because of our humble pasts. I believe those roots taught him to respect everyone. To never cheat anybody. I think he learned that idea first from his own mother - it came from her belief that you should never intentionally try to hurt another person. He had a fundamental and abiding respect for all people - or most anyway. He couldn’t believe or understand or forgive those who occupied a place of privilege–whether by birth or through their own success–and did not use their position to better the lives of others. It simply made no sense to him.
And so it was from my Dad that I learned that kindness has to be tempered by true steel in your spine – a lesson that has proven invaluable to me as an attorney. But Dad’s steel - his acceptance of things as they are - was incredible. Last year, after most people with a terminal cancer diagnosis would’ve been feeling sorry for themselves, he worried about how to make things easier for the people he loved-his beautiful Wife, his sister-in-law, his children. We should all wish for one-tenth of the courage and the steel and the resolve that Dad had.
That resolve that belief in standing up for what is right was who he was, that is what he passed on to me and to his sons- who probably understood that lesson better than I did. There was no delineation between the morality of his work life and the morality of his private life. He was who he was in all aspects of his life, deeply committed to fairness, deeply committed to honesty.
And he was so much more. He also loved the life of the mind, and there was nothing more fun than great passionate debate. That love of the give and take of a debate — that willingness to learn from others while you were debating, even if it meant you didn’t “win,” I learned that from him. It was from my dad I learned how you can argue to learn, not just argue to win.
The list goes on and on…. He was my moral compass. And as my life and my career has become what it has become, he was my best advisor and strategist. In one of the great joys of my life, over the past decade, I was able to be a strategist and sounding board for him as well. And he has been the most amazing grandfather to Marty and Vanna. He is one of the truly greatest men I have ever known – and likely ever will.
I haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that I will never have another conversation with him again. I know that I am who I am in large part because he believed I could be. I am sure I share that with many of you. And as much as anything else, I am angry that we were robbed of his third act.. Let us all – to quote my Dad – remember how important it is to go out without having ever cheated or fooled anyone-although he used a language a little more colorful.
The one thing Dad could never quite grasp in this life was forgiveness. He really struggled with it and we talked about it a lot. Dad loved watching WWII movies. I don’t think he could ever grasp the anormity of man’s inhumanity to man. We rolled our eyes at Dad when he went up to his den to watch his war movies, but the other day, I had a compulsion to go to the movies and I saw Railway men. A great movie-I hope you’ll all go see it. I don’t know why I went I hate war movies, but after it was over I felt like it was Dad’s way of telling me he got it. The movie is a true story about unbelievable forgiveness. So as we leave here today let’s all try to work just a little harder to make the world a better place because we happened to have lived in it. To be forgiving.To do that is to honor his life and honor his memory. And it has the added benefit of being the right thing to do, too.
Thank you, Dad, for being one of the most incredible people I have ever known. Thank you for making me want to make myself a better person and believing in me and being proud of me. Thank you for being on a very short list of people whom I have known who really loved me.
I love you, Dad, and I’ll miss you more than I can say.
Thank you.
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