The Lessons of Joseph

 Each Friday I enjoy the weekly emails I get from Rabbi Yossi and Chabad. They have the day's Torah portion, and well as a topical message, and they end with a joke, most of which were first told during the period between the World Wars -- so I know them at word 5.

It's funny -- when my California sister was at her life's low point -- with her son in jail during Covid, and dwindling friends who had tired of hearing her tales of woe,  I suggested maybe she do some learning with Chabad. It went over like a lead balloon, as she reminded me yesterday, as she has interest in the Bible like I have interest in the latest European fashions coming next Fall. And that's ok -- but the wisdom and messages totally resonate with me.

And yesterday's portion was about Joseph, who endured an absolutely terrible life -- mother died when he was a child, and he was his father's favorite (Dad made him the famous many colored coat) which caused jealousy among his brothers, who sold him into slavery, which led to prison in Egypt. Of course, G-d noted that he was "successful in prison," and Joseph, through his gift of seeing the future, rose up to become a major leader, and had the opportunity to avenge his brothers' selling him into slavery. Instead, Joseph chose to believe that even his suffering was part of the Big Man's plan, and actually thanked all those who had hurt and tortured him -- these great valleys had led him to the top of a mountain.

It caused me to look back on my life, as I slog towards my, hopefully, 64th birthday next July. 1982 was the worst year of my then young life. At the beginning of the year, I felt heartbreak, real heartbreak, for the first time -- my girlfriend, who I thought might be "the one," dropped me when I was no longer headed to med school, and instead chose to study English, with no solid plans intact. She was from a richer background than I -- her mother married to a much older, established man, and her parents encouraged her to drop the boy with the uncertain financial future.

By the next Summer, I was over her, and came off my first 4.0 GPA and President's Honor Roll, since I had found myself academically and intellectually. And then my beloved Dad -- grandfather, father, and best friend all rolled into one, died in my arms -- 4 days before I turned 21. Yeah -- that was a lot worse than being ditched by a girlfriend -- I can now say empirically.

I somehow slept walked through that next semester of college -- applied to UF and UM law schools, and realized it was going to be Coral Gables, as Mom needed the help and support and Gainesville was too far away. I reflect back sometimes about what might have been had I had those 3 years in Hogtown -- how might my career and personal path have been different?

As it was, within the same week I met Mike, Jeff, and pre-Wifey -- 3 people who have had a profound impact on me -- most of whom Wifey, since we built a life together.

I was lucky. Even in the depths of my despair of 1982, something deep inside told me to play the long game -- things would get better. I now realize I had some dissociative disorder -- I would sit in class and feel I was looking down on myself -- I wasn't really there. But it passed.

Well, although 10 years seemed an eternity to a 20 something, 10 years later, in 1992, I had one of the best years of my life. And it's funny -- a major event was the total destruction of our house in a tropical cyclone commonly known as Hurricane Andrew -- a literal typhoon of deadly force that reduced all our possessions to rubble.

On the other hand, I brought in my first huge case, and the free flowing money from the insurance company turned a lot of our crap into shinola, in the form of stocks and bonds and better real estate. I was 31 and feeling like the king of the world, without the bow of the Titanic and Kate Winslett behind me. Most importantly, our band found its 4th member -- D2 -- and life was grand.

And now, I truly have the time to gather wisdom -- what to leave in, as Bob Seger sang, and what to leave out. The other day I got a text from a cousin who always reaches out with problems, and I dutifully answer. I called him -- no answer. So I texted yesterday to tell  him I called, and he responded that he wished my advise, but thought maybe better he not.

Younger Dave would have taken the bait. The classic NY Jewish "OMG -- DON'T Ask what happened," is, of course, the invitation to ask what happened.

But this time I took a step back. The fellow was giving me the opportunity to NOT get involved -- and I took it! It was so freeing. From now on, when I hear "Don't ask!" I plan to take that as a true bit of good advice -- I won't!

But Joseph triumphed, biblically, by knowing control is with the Big Man. Yep -- that resonates with me, and I needn't proselytize to others. They can find it or not -- last time I checked, it wasn't in the Jewish playbook to gain converts.