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My father was my hero and, when he was dying, I wrote this song for him
I was 18 when my dad discovered a lump on his neck. He’d been doing sit-ups with my mom in their bedroom.
He was 49 years old.
First, a word about my dad. It’s sad when anyone’s parent dies, more so when they are still young. Tragic when your dad is your hero.
If I had to describe my dad in one word, I’d say he was strong. Not only was he an Eagle Scout, a United States Marine, not only was he once a deputy sheriff at Medicine Lake with his own rifle, and not only did he have huge arms and could rip a phone book in half; my dad was strong enough to be self-effacing and terrifically kind. He was not didactic in the least. He taught his curricula in one way only, by example. The lessons I learned from him about the nature of strength, real strength, are ones I try to carry with me each and every day.
At the conclusion of every marital spat he’d have with my mother I used to hear him say, “Ok, Bevy, you’re right and I’m wrong.” I never knew what that meant. Was he folding, caving in? Where was his spine? His balls? I was never quite sure if there was just a trace of contempt or anger in that statement of his, or was it, as I’d learned much later, really a pure recognition that he’d seen things her way and that her way was just better?
It strikes me now that the essence of his strength, his manliness if you will, was a sense of self-effacement and humor that bordered on genius.
At 17, I took the liberty of hosting my girlfriend in my parents’ bed while they were away on a trip to Chicago. They’d come home a day earlier than expected and caught the two of us, just moments… afterwards. My dad was standing behind my mom, trying to bottle up his laughter. It was especially difficult for him to keep from laughing after my mother said in her serious voice, “Peter, I would hope that in the future you’d entertain your guests in your own room.” In my defense, my own room did not have a color TV set.
All of my cousins, even the ones that weren’t my dad’s blood relatives, were crazy about him. They sought his counsel like he was a tribal sheik. I remember many nights where one cousin or another would be huddled around our kitchen table with him. He wasn’t doling out advice. Advice is overrated anyway. Any asshole can give good advice. It’s the way my dad made you feel that made him so special.
At the time, I was playing in a calypso and reggae band with five grown men, and one woman, Cheryl, who played the Hammond organ. She’d come from Jamaica, the others from Trinidad. But that’s for another story.
I was also writing pop songs with my band Sussman Lawrence, supposedly having the time of my life. But I was in deep emotional pain.
My dad discovered a lump in the back of his neck in the autumn of 1979. It took the doctors a week to determine that he had stage-four lymphoma. They figured he had six months, tops. They were wrong by almost three years.
At the time I barely reacted to the news. I told myself it was strength, composure. I understood later it was something else entirely — a tendency to go inside myself, to stay as far away from my feelings as possible. It was as if I’d been playing a sort of double role. In some moments I was hypersensitive and deeply connected to the grief. In others, I was completely divorced from it. Some four years later, toward the end of my dad’s life, those two halves would finally collide.
It was 1983 and our band was in Amery Wisconsin, finishing our last set at a bar called The Country Dam. It was late and the crowd was so drunk they were falling over one another, screaming for one more chorus of “I’m Your Fireman.” At four in the morning I pulled up to my parents’ house behind my dad’s white ’83 Chrysler LeBaron. He’d gone all the way to Mankato with my mother to buy it.
Tired as I was, I couldn’t stop looking at that car, wondering how I’d feel about it when he died.
It was Father’s Day, and my mom had planned a big brunch for him in just a few hours. Cousins, aunts, and uncles — everybody wanted to be there to cheer him up. Even though my dad had outlived the doctors’ dire predictions by four years, we knew that the disease had progressed to the point where this was very likely his last Father’s Day.
I was pretty wound up from the performance the night before and since the sun was coming up anyway, I couldn’t see any reason to try and sleep. I picked up a guitar. It was an old acoustic that hardly played in tune. I started picking through some chords in a half-trance and singing softly to myself, just thinking about that LeBaron and how my dad really liked that car. The words came fast and the melody started to take on a shape. Each new line generated more melody, and the melody inspired more words.
“When no one is forgotten and nothing goes to waste, when sadness turns to laughter, when anger is defaced, you’ll start to know the way I feel about you.”
When a song comes to you like that, it’s best to get out of your own way — to be as detached as possible — and yet I couldn’t help feeling excited that this was a song for my dad. I thought, “At least now I won’t be the only fool at the brunch without a Father’s Day present.”
“And if I could, I’d run out into the world and tell every boy and girl to love before love takes itself away… just like I’m loving you this Father’s Day.”
I made a quick recording of the song, and I was so tired and so emotional that I started crying in the last chorus. I didn’t want to let everyone hear me blubbering on tape, so I reached over to erase it and sing it again, but at the last second I decided to leave it as was, tears and all.
The next morning I brought the cassette upstairs. The brunch was in full swing: The lox and the smoked whitefish had been taken out of the refrigerator and arranged on platters. The scrambled eggs and onions were warming on the stove. The cinnamon rolls and the cartons of Minute Maid were on the table, and the brunch-goers were trying their best to slap on their happiest faces.
I put the cassette in the stereo, and I swear it took no more than ten seconds for everyone to break down in tears and exit the room.
Now it was just my dad and me — both of us staring out the big picture window of our den, listening as the song played.
As it ended, we held each other and cried. Whatever façade of normalcy we’d been putting up over the last few years washed away in the emotion of that song. I’d wanted to say so many things to him, and for so long. Somehow the song expressed everything so well.
From that morning on, my dad carried the cassette around with him in his breast pocket.
He died a few months later on Thanksgiving night. We got a call from the hospital as we were sitting at the table; the turkey had never even been carved.
As tragic and sad as his death was, I’ve never felt remiss for not expressing how I felt.
This, I think, is not only the utility of music (a harsh word, I know), but its spiritual power — to say what cannot otherwise be said, and to leave nothing essential unspoken.
The post My father was my hero and, when he was dying, I wrote this song for him appeared first on The Forward.
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Irish national soccer team won’t shake hands with Israel after win
(JTA) — It only took 25 minutes of play for the Irish national soccer team to build a 3-0 lead over Israel in the countries’ UEFA Nations League B match on Sunday. But there were decades of bad blood that preceded Ireland’s shutout victory in a game dominated more by the geopolitics of the Gaza war than about sports. One soccer writer described it as “arguably one of the most contentious football matches of this century.”
At the match, held in a mostly empty stadium in the neutral site of Debrecen, Hungary, the Irish players wore black armbands and bowed their heads in protest during the Israeli national anthem. There were no pre- or postgame handshakes, and one Irish player declined to participate altogether, citing his “personal belief that the killing of innocent people is wrong.”
Ireland’s soccer federation did not reserve tickets for its fans, and the country’s public broadcaster scaled back its coverage of the game. The teams are set to meet again on Oct. 4 in Serbia, this time with Ireland as the “home” team.
Ireland and Israel have a long history of icy relations. Ireland became the first member of the European Union to call for an independent Palestinian country in 1980, and was among the first of the Western European countries to recognize an official Palestinian state in 2024. Israel closed its embassy in Dublin in response. Irish Prime Minister Micheál Martin has rejected claims that his country’s sharp criticism of Israel bleeds into antisemitism.
In the months leading up to Sunday’s match, Ireland’s football governing body faced intense pressure to boycott the match. At a meeting in July, the Football Association of Ireland voted 75-32, with three abstentions, in favor of proceeding with the match, “while acknowledging the strength of feeling regarding support for Palestine.” The motion also noted that a boycott would come with UEFA sanctions, both financial and competitive: In League B matches, mid-tier nations seek to advance to the top division and boost their chances of qualifying for the quadrennial World Cup tournament. The Irish team itself also held a last-minute vote over whether to participate.
Earlier this month, more than 160 Irish athletes and sports figures signed an open letter calling on the national team to pull out of the match. The signatories included former Irish national team head coach Brian Kerr — who had led Ireland to a 2-2 draw against Israel in a 2005 match in Dublin that also took place amid protests.
Former Irish national team star Kevin Kilbane also authored a column in The Irish Times, writing, “Ireland should not play Israel. Not in Dublin, not in Hungary, not in Serbia. Not when Israel is committing genocide.” Israel denies the charge of genocide.
There were also a number of public barbs exchanged between leaders of the two countries and their football associations.
At a press conference last week, Irish coach Heimir Hallgrímsson replied to questions about the match by saying, “We are not playing with genocide, we are playing against genocide. We are playing against Israel; we are not playing with Israel.”
Israel’s football association responded to that comment with a post on X, writing, “We have contributed to the world and humanity in countless fields, earning an impressive number of Nobel Prizes along the way. Unfortunately, we have not yet found a cure for stupidity, ignorance and hypocrisy displayed by the @IrelandFootball team coach. We’re not playing with ignorance, hypocrisy and stupidity. We’re playing against the coach who embodies them.”
That drew a rebuke from Martin, who told reporters, “They are unacceptable remarks and should be withdrawn.”
And on Sunday, the morning of the match, Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar posted a lengthy tweet referencing the 1939 Irish squad that gave a Nazi salute before a game against the German national team.
“Almost 90 years have passed. Ireland’s unique talent for finding itself on the wrong side of history remains intact,” Sa’ar wrote. “Back then, they gave the Nazi salute. This time, they stand on the side of Palestinian terrorism. Above the black armbands the Irish players will wear tonight flies the black flag of jihadism.”
After the match, Israeli captain Manor Solomon said the Irish players who bowed their heads during the Israeli anthem “don’t interest me.”
“We have a country 10 times better than theirs, stronger, an amazing country with amazing people,” said Solomon, who plays in the English Championship league. “We are proud to wear the team shirt and to be Israelis. We are proud of our state and of our soldiers. [The Irish] can play all their tricks. We are Israelis and love the country. And that will always be the case.”
The post Irish national soccer team won’t shake hands with Israel after win appeared first on The Forward.
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Why is Karl Rove supporting a progressive Jewish candidate in Texas?
(JTA) — Progressive Jewish Texas state Sen. Jon Rosenthal has earned an unusual distinction: He is the first Democrat to win the vote of GOP guru Karl Rove in more than 30 years.
What did the only Jew serving in the Texas state house do to earn this distinction? It’s more what he didn’t do: run for statewide office with a track record of spewing racially charged and antisemitic comments.
Bo French, the Republican nominee for Texas Railroad commissioner, has a history of rhetoric targeting people of color, Muslims and Jews, including a social media poll last year asking whether “Jews” or “Muslims” pose “a bigger threat to America.”
He also faced bipartisan blowback for a recent post targeting college students of color, and this week a CNN investigation revealed that French, in since-deleted posts, had called for public executions for former President Barack Obama, Jewish California Sen. Adam Schiff and government workers targeted by the so-called Department of Government Efficiency last year.
The controversy has elevated the race for an obscure statewide office – albeit one that regulates the state’s all-important energy industry – into a larger referendum on the GOP’s tolerance for bigotry, including antisemitism, among its nominees.
Rove, for one, has made it clear where he thinks the party should stand.
“The GOP has a growing number of Bo Frenches — and not only in Texas,” Rove wrote in The Wall Street Journal earlier this month in explaining his decision to back Rosenthal.
Rove singled out growing antisemitism in the party: “There are ‘just asking questions’ Jew-haters, misogynists who worship hypermasculinity, conspiracy nuts seeking clicks for profit, and religious bigots who won’t differentiate between Muslim terrorists and Muslim American patriots.”
Rove isn’t the only GOP stalwart to turn on French.
“Are other Republican elected officials going to condemn the intolerance and racism, or look the other way while it becomes normalized,” outgoing Texas Sen. John Cornyn wrote in condemning French’s social media musings. “This is how great political parties self-destruct.”
Cornyn has stopped short of backing Rosenthal, instead saying he might leave the ballot blank.
Texas Rep. Jon E. Rosenthal inside the House Chamber at the Texas Capitol in Austin on Aug. 18, 2025. (Mikala Compton/Austin American-Statesman via Getty Images)
Rosenthal and French have agreed to a debate on Oct. 22. French leads the race in polling released last week from Texas Southern University, but by a much slimmer margin than GOP candidates are accustomed to in Texas. Rosenthal’s campaign could also see a boost from fellow statewide Democratic candidate James Talarico, who is polling neck-and-neck with his opponent in the U.S. Senate race.
On social media, Rosenthal celebrated Rove’s endorsement, writing, “When GOP architect Karl Rove breaks a 30-year voting streak to endorse our campaign, it proves this race isn’t about party lines, it’s about competence vs. chaos.”
A former county Republican Party chair who defeated the incumbent GOP state railroad commissioner in a runoff primary, French spurred widespread backlash earlier this month after posting a photo of students of color at the University of Texas celebrating a football win to the social network X.
“I heard UT graduation this year looked like this. I didn’t believe it,” French had captioned the photo on Sept. 13. “The problem is now obviously far worse than anyone imagined.” He has since doubled down on the sentiment, replying, “I weep for the families in Texas who can’t get into UT because they prioritize foreigners over Texans,” and using the backlash to solicit donations.
Texas Gov. Greg Abbott and state House Speaker Dustin Burrows were among the other Republicans who criticized French for the post, though neither formally rescinded their support, and French continues to list Abbott’s endorsement on his site.
It was not French’s first brush with bigotry. In 2025, during his stint as Tarrant County GOP Chair, French posted an online “poll” asking his followers whether “Jews” or “Muslims” pose “a bigger threat to America.” In a follow-up post, he argued, “You may not like Jews, but to suggest they are a bigger threat to Americans is Jew Derangement Syndrome.”
French later deleted both posts, and has few visible tweets about Jews today. In later posts, he claimed, of himself, “There has never been any evidence of antisemitism. It would certainly be surprising to my Jewish partners.”
Jewish Republicans in the state and beyond are largely keeping their distance from French, with one exception. His campaign site currently touts an endorsement from American Jewish Conservatives, whose only listed chapter is in Dallas.
Neither French nor the group, formerly Dallas Jewish Conservatives, responded to JTA requests for comment on the endorsement. A spokesperson for the Republican Jewish Coalition also did not return a request for comment on French.
Last month French cited a desire to combat antisemitism when arguing that Texas should not use mosques as polling places. In other posts, he accused a university in the state of “harboring radical left/antisemitic professors,” identified himself as both pro-Israel and pro-Tucker Carlson, the talk show host who has platformed antisemites and anti-Jewish conspiracy theories, and told one follower, “I have never served Israel. Don’t be a retard.”
Texas Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick was among the GOP officials who condemned French’s tweet about Jews last year, calling on him to resign as county chair. “Antisemitism and religious bigotry have no place in Texas,” Patrick said then. French ultimately resigned months later in order to run for railroad commissioner.
Today, French lists Patrick as one of his endorsements. A spokesperson for Patrick, who recently told JTA he supported Texas schools assigning books on the Holocaust after public remarks apparently to the contrary, did not return a Jewish Telegraphic Agency request for comment.
French’s other listed endorsements include Texas congressional candidate Brandon Herrera, who has made jokes about Hitler and the Holocaust in YouTube videos.
Rove’s essay led to President Donald Trump wading into the controversy, calling Rove “so bad for the Republican Party, and completely wrong so often,” in a post on his social network Truth Social. Trump’s post did not mention French, nor address his past post about Jews.
The Texas railroad commission, composed of three members, oversees the state’s large and powerful oil and gas industry. It has no oversight into immigration or religion. Even so, French’s campaign has drifted far afield from energy issues: One of his pledges is “Stop the Islamic Invasion of Texas.”
French’s controversies have elevated the profile of Rosenthal, who was raised a Reform Jew in an interfaith household and whose Houston-area district is home to large Muslim communities. This year Rosenthal marked Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur by sharing links to Chabad-Lubavitch webpages about the holidays.
Rosenthal’s campaign did not respond to a JTA request for comment, but he told the Forward last year that he identifies as agnostic and “multireligious,” and attends synagogues as well as mosques and churches.
Rosenthal is also a trained mechanical engineer, a background he has drawn on in his bid for railroad commissioner: one campaign ad, quoting a conservative radio host, approvingly calls him “a ‘drill, baby, drill’ Democrat.” He has accused French of “overt racism,” while French has dubbed his opponent “Radical Rosenthal” and posted images, generated using artificial intelligence, of cross-shaped Texas oil wells to promote his blending of energy policy with Christian iconography.
Last year, Rosenthal cited his Judaism in response to legislation that would require the Ten Commandments to be displayed in every public school classroom. Rosenthal introduced an amendment that would have required a “Jewish” version of the commandments to be displayed alongside the “Protestant” one. The amendment failed, and the bill passed.
The post Why is Karl Rove supporting a progressive Jewish candidate in Texas? appeared first on The Forward.
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California Gov. Gavin Newsom signs bill to create safe spaces around synagogues
(JTA) — California Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, has signed a law that will create protective spaces around religious institutions, after a pro-Palestinian protest at a Los Angeles synagogue last year turned violent.
The legislation, AB 2664, establishes 100-foot zones around the entrances to houses of worship. Within the zones, no one will be allowed to come within eight feet of a congregant without consent to distribute leaflets, hold a sign or engage in oral protests that aim “to harass, obstruct, threaten or intimidate the person.”
Failure to comply could result in fines of up to $1,000 and/or imprisonment of no more than six months, with second violations raising those bars to $5,000 and one year, per the law.
“Every Californian should be able to walk into a synagogue, church, mosque, or other house of worship without fear,” Newsom said in a statement.
“California is continuing to protect these organizations and the people they serve, and we’re strengthening that work from the front door to expanding security resources to community events statewide.”
Newsom’s status as a leading Democrat – and one considering a 2028 presidential run – makes his enthusiastic endorsement notable. Progressives in other locales, including New York City, have pushed back against similar laws, saying they endanger speech protections.
The bill’s signing came less than a year after a violent protest rattled the Wilshire Boulevard Temple in Los Angeles. At the December event, pro-Palestinian demonstrators blocked people from entering the synagogue and cut off parental access to the religious school. Protesters destroyed property and assaulted a security guard; one person was arrested for battery and another for vandalism.
At the time, Mayor Karen Bass denounced the incident, which took place at one of the largest synagogues in the city, as both “abhorrent” and antisemitic.
The following spring, California Assembly member Rebecca Bauer-Kahan, a Democrat, introduced the legislation, drafted by Jewish California, a lobby representing a number of the state’s Jewish groups.Newsom signed the bill on Friday inside Wilshire Boulevard Temple, joined by Jewish California leaders, synagogue clergy and members of the California Legislative Jewish Caucus and the broader community.
The legislation advanced despite vocal opposition. The Council on American-Islamic Relations slammed the bill for infringing upon free speech by creating “new criminal penalties that would put peaceful protesters and community advocates at risk.”
In a statement following Newsom’s signing ceremony, the council’s California CEO, Hussam Ayloush, argued that some sales of “illegally occupied land” are occurring “exclusively to Jewish Americans at events hosted by American synagogues.”
“If a house of worship in America chooses to serve as a platform for illegal land sales meant to normalize Palestinian displacement, Americans should be able to peacefully demonstrate against that immoral activity,” Ayloush said. The protest at the Wilshire Boulevard Temple did not target land sales, but a public safety and technology event organized by the Consulate General of Israel.
Jewish California stressed that the legislation not only gained support from dozens of Jewish groups but also from Muslim, Sikh, Christian and Hindu organizations. Ultimately, the bill passed with 34 out of 40 State Senate votes and 61 of 80 State Assembly votes.
“With the Governor’s signature, California is sending a clear message: everyone has the right to practice their faith safely and freely,” Bauer-Kahan said in a statement.
“Antisemitism is rising, and so is hostility towards other religious communities,” she added. “This law protects all worshippers of all faiths, and it ensures that faith can be practiced without fear.”
AB 2664 was one of six bills relevant to the Jewish community that passed in California’s state legislature last month. Newsom signed one of the other bills, AB 1853, on Monday afternoon — enacting a ban on including misleading or threatening information, like hate speech, in California voter guides.
The governor has until Sept. 30 to either sign or veto the other four pieces of legislation. Among the most contentious is SB 1387, a bill that would expand the definition of ethnicity “to include Jewish identity” on state agency data collection forms.
The post California Gov. Gavin Newsom signs bill to create safe spaces around synagogues appeared first on The Forward.
