The Torah says in parshat ki teztzey:

“כי תידור נדר לה' אלוקיך לא תאחר לשלמו כי דרוש ידרשנו ה' אלקיך מעמך והיה בך חטא. וכי תחדל לנדור לא יהיה בך חטא. מוצא שפתיך תשמור ועשית כאשר נדרת לה' אלוקיך נדבה אשר דיברת בפיך" .

Dad, you were the embodiment of מוצא שפתיך תשמור""

Your word was a commitment. There was no reneging on promises. and no delays. If you got an aliya to the Tora on shabbat and promised to make a donation, a check for that donation was written, entered in your ledger, and in an addressed envelope within minutes of havdala.

You were a scientist and a thinker. I can envision you, seated at the dining room table totally focused on your work, with sharpened pencils, slide rule and book of logarithm tables in a fortress of fat reference books.

You pursued endeavors with your whole self, never half-way. Your meticulousness, vitality, and drive to learn and achieve daily defined your life-view. You taught that outlook to me and my brothers, Randy and Brad.

I’d like to meander through some of my memories growing up.

During the cool autumns in Boston, we built the succah you designed from two by fours, dowels and. turquoise fiberglass.

In the winters we shoveled the snow together out of the driveway.

When I was a chubby 9 year old, you took me to play tennis, and gently admonished “ Val, you’re not a magnet, the ball is not going to come to you.

On the way to shul, you had me, Brad, and Randy recite the list of American presidents, and the periodic table of elements. You and I also memorized poetry.

When I was eleven, you had me proofread the galleyproofs of your book about computer calculations of phase diagrams.

I was a rather clumsy pre-teen tomboy. The walls of my room were covered with posters of baseball players. For my bat mitzvah you encouraged my interest in sports and took the whole family to Red Sox baseball games.

In our house, sleeping in was not an option, not even during school vacation. Every day during the summers, after minyan, Randy, Brad, and I trooped off to summer school.

It didn’t matter that I was a girl, you ensured that I knew the difference between a phillips-head screwdriver and a regular one.

You supported me in my decision to study at MIT and warned “Val, you can’t read an engineering book like a novel.”

Your vigor, exactitude, and love of learning were pillars of my childhood and youth. You said of me that I had True Grit, or perseverance. If I have it, I learned it from you.

During the past few difficult weeks, when I got to the point that I could navigate the halls of Hadassah Ein Karem blindfolded, I often pondered – how would it be if another family member were lying in that bed, and you were able-bodied. I knew that you would have done you utmost to make us comfortable, and sooth us. I hope that I lived up to your standards.

Love

Valerie