Farewell to a Summer Icon

Barry Konovitch saved me from drowning. Well, maybe not actually drowning, but he did lift me out of deep water with one muscular arm after I sank under the surface of the camp pool. 

That was in 1963, at Camp Columbia in Elizaville, NY. Word came Wednesday that Rabbi Barry Konovitch had passed away on May 15. He was 83. 

Barry was an iconic figure at camp. Tall, handsome, blond, muscular, Barry was head of the waterfront. 

For the summer of ‘63 when I was 14, I almost earned an intermediate swimming instruction certificate (I would have qualified if I had mastered treading water. Half a century later I still cannot tread water). 

Paul Jeser, my instructor, told me to dive into deep water, swim underwater for 10 yards then tread water. I didn’t want to as I did not know how to swim and was not certified to dive into deep water. As he was much larger than I, I reluctantly complied. 

My dive was decent. Holding my breadth, I swam underwater. But as I surfaced I spouted I could not tread water. I sank, only to be raised above the surface by Barry who had jumped into the pool. When he asked if I could swim I shook my head no. He sternly admonished me never to enter deep water again before successfully learning to swim. 

Paul had pity on me so at summer’s end he gave me the intermediate card with the proviso that I truly earn it next year. Sadly, I have yet to fulfill my portion of the deal. 

A few years later Paul took over as head of waterfront as Barry pursued his studies to become a rabbi. After ordination Barry served as a rabbi of two Miami-area temples. He blogged and wrote two books (https://share.google/WASrPnFpTAkvrG6sw).

Saving my life was just one of my memorable interactions with Barry at camp.  

If you do an Internet search for Barry Konovitch you will come across a 2014 article about his driving the same red Corvette for 46 years (https://share.google/YaQQBgIrbH1PqXz1i). Sounds exciting, but to me the car I identified with Barry was a red Triumph TR4 convertible. 

In 1964 I was a waiter at camp. Waiters were not permitted to leave camp grounds.  

Fellow waiters Larry Jacobs and Stu Garay were also enjoying a day off from serving. Our day off coincided with one of Barry’s who chose to hang around camp that day. In the late afternoon we implored him to take us off campus in his car. 

Though at first reluctant, Barry succumbed to our nagging. He agreed if we could secure the permission of head counselor Hal Gastwirt. Hal wasn’t available, so we asked his second in command, Tully Dershowitz. He consented.

We were all set. Stu won the rights to ride shotgun on our way out of camp. The rear seat was not intended to support two near-six foot tall teenagers—Larry and me. The back seat was no more than 12 inches deep. Leg room? There wasn’t any.

Barry did not hold back on the throttle. He whizzed down the two-lane country roads of Elizaville, NY. Wind whipped through our hair. Larry and I felt as if we were riding in an old-fashioned rumble seat. We felt every bump, fearful we would be tossed out. There were no seat belts. 

We drove to an ice cream stand on the outskirts of Red Hook, some 10 miles away. Barry parked the car, he and Stu got out and waited, and waited, and waited for Larry and me to unfurl our cramped legs. It seemed like a full five minutes before we could support ourselves standing up. 

Larry and I were relegated to the back seat again on our return ride. When we untangled ourselves back in camp we asked Barry why the TR4 even had a back seat. He explained it was for insurance purposes. Without a back seat the TR4 would be classified as a sports car with high insurance rates. With a back seat, even one clearly not intended for use by anyone older than six, lower family car rates prevailed.

Memorial Day Memories

There are many things I wish I knew more of about my father’s life before I was born. How was everyday life during his first 16 years in the shtetl of Ottynia, Galicia, in southeastern Poland, in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, now part of western Ukraine? How and why he summoned the courage at 16 to move to Danzig (now called Gdansk) on the Baltic Sea coast, 550 miles from Ottynia? How he spent the next 13 years in Danzig, making friends, dating, earning a living, living under what was a Nazi-influenced regime? How he again summoned the courage to uproot himself from all he knew to emigrate to America in January 1939? How he managed in a new world where he did not know the language and knew but a handful of relatives? 

To be sure, my father told his children snippets of his history. Stories about trudging through snow to school and cheder (Jewish study classes). How he was a route salesman of stationery and dry goods in Danzig. How he worked for a cousin selling shirts on Orchard Street on the Lower East Side of Manhattan where he first met our mother. 

On this Memorial Day, however, I can recall no stories about his time in the U. S. Army. What did he think about conditions in the segregated South where he was mostly stationed? About his fellow soldiers, no doubt from communities vastly different from New York?

When he was two months shy of his 32nd birthday he was drafted and inducted into service three months after marrying Sylvia Gerson September 6, 1942. 

He was stationed on several bases, including Camp Rucker in Alabama. It was there that he suffered from gall stones that enabled him to get an honorable discharge eight months, four days after his induction. 

During his time in the army he was a machine gunner, but, it is my understanding, he was to be reassigned to an intelligence unit because of his ability to speak German and Polish. 

I’d like to think he was chosen to be one of the The Ritchie Boys, a secret intelligence unit that interrogated German prisoners of war because of their language skills. Information on the Ritchie Boys did not become public until the 1990s, a few years before my father died, by which time he was suffering from dementia (for more on The Ritchie Boys google “60 Minutes Ritchie Boys” for a 40 minute segment or link to https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/ritchie-boys). 

His gall stones ended his military career August 4, 1943. We will never know if he would have been a Ritchie Boy. 

I never saw his uniform, though we have a picture of him in uniform with my mother. 

He didn’t watch war movies. Westerns were more to his liking. His most endearing and enduring remnant of military life was the “army eggs” he would cook for many a Sunday breakfast for my brother, sister and me. Army eggs were fried eggs with thin round slices of fried salami. 

I’m writing this blog in the middle of the night, on my iPhone. I know what I’m going to eat for breakfast this Memorial Day—army eggs. 

I did.  

Recalling Penny-Ante Friday Night Poker Games

It’s taken a little more than 13 years for the United States to follow Canada’s lead in phasing out production of pennies because they cost more to mint than what they are worth. The Treasury Department announced Thursday its last order for pennies (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/05/22/us/politics/penny-manufacturing.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare). 

I doubt many people will lament its passing, except for those of us old enough to share nostalgic memories of penny candy bars, long stick pretzels, two-cents plain sodas (in other words, seltzer), and the fun of pitching pennies against a wall.

I’ll be particularly sad as I associate pennies with one of my most vivid childhood memories—the weekly, Friday night poker games my parents ran for our family of five and two or three of my brother’s teenage friends, Jerry Blitzer, Stanley Weilgus, and Michael Lipson. As our home was less religiously observant than Bernie’s friends’ homes were, they would file in one by one after their Sabbath eve meals concluded. I never knew if their parents were aware they were violating the Orthodox prohibition on touching money on the Sabbath.

I suspect we started playing poker around the time I was eight-years-old, my sister Lee, 10, and Bernie, 12. Stakes were penny-two. The games were noisy, rowdy affairs, often punctuated by complaints that Michael had sweaty hands and was bending the cards out of shape.

Our parents treated us like adults sitting across a card table. If we were old enough to play, we were old enough to lose, and lose graciously. We usually played deuces wild, seven card stud. Sometimes, jacks or better. I can’t rightly remember how much money we’d start off with, but I definitely can recall many a time I’d have to excuse myself for a few minutes while I went into my bedroom to coax more pennies out of my amber glass piggy bank. Overall, I’d say I won as often as I lost, but I surely learned more proper behavior from the times I left the game lighter, and with eyes not as dry as when I sat down to play.

We played poker for several years until our father returned from a trip to Japan when I was 11. He came back with rules for a Chinese card game, Fan-tan. I don’t fully remember all the strategies of the game, but here’s a link if you’re interested in the rules: http://www.pagat.com/domino/sevens.html.

Fan-tan kept our interest for a little while, until we began playing a version of Hearts that incorporated some aspects of Fan-tan.

For about six years, card games were our weekly Friday night diversion, except during the summer when we’d be away at camp. All that changed, however, when Bernie entered Brooklyn College. Our mother decided we needed a more cerebral pursuit, so she initiated Friday night Scrabble games. Bernie and I became quite proficient, but Scrabble did not have the same appeal to his friends, nor to our father. Lee, Bernie’s friends, and Bernie, as well, awakened to more hormonal interests. 

Friday night at the Forseters no longer enjoyed communal status. Now, it’s only a matter of time before the penny loses its currency status, but the memory lingers on.

In Biden's Cancer, A Teaching Moment

Joe Biden’s prostate cancer is a teaching moment, a time when men should be learning that periodic checkups—usually annually—should include prostate examinations. Similar to when First Lady Betty Ford revealed her mastectomy in 1974 and prompted countless women to have their own breast examinations, the former president’s illness should be a national, if not global, wake up call for men. 

This opportunity, however, has been shamefully dismissed by Vice President JD Vance and Donald Trump Jr. and many other MAGA-heads who are heartless in their desire to exploit any weakness in their opposition, even if such vulnerability could be life-threatening. 

At least for now, Donald Sr. has conveyed appropriate well-wishes to his predecessor, though the clock probably won’t tick too many tocks before Trump renews his verbal assault on a president who, compared to him, oversaw an economy that was the envy of the world with stock market indices at record highs along with unparalleled job growth, who expanded healthcare coverage, who engineered an infrastructure program Trump could never get passed despite his repeated messages about “infrastructure weeks,” and who marshaled global democratic nation support for Ukraine’s defense against Russian aggression.  

Then again, perhaps Vance and Junior have provided a teaching moment—how not to behave toward a person with cancer. 

Acceptance of Biden’s politics is not required; decency toward Biden’s condition that had no bearing on his functioning as president should be a given response. 

Their actions are yet more examples of the tone-death attitudes Trumpers have displayed toward people who have experienced extraordinary catastrophes.  

Talking Money & Friends vs. A Godly Test

He’s back from a whirlwind trip to the Mideast, inspiring reactions no president would appreciate.

From Feminist News:

Can we pause for a moment and let the gravity of this sink in (alluding to a picture of Donald Trump shaking hands with Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani of Qatar) … 

The Qatari royal family bankrolls Hamas. This is Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, relative of the man who the US Defense Department has identified as the funder of the mastermind of the September 11 attacks and helped Khalid Sheikh Mohammed evade capture for many years. 

Now they just bought their way into Trump’s inner circle.

This is the same regime that:

• Finances Hamas 

• Was found guilty of bribing hundreds of European Union officials to sway policy in its favor

• Financed 9/11 attacks

And it’s not just Trump with his snout in the trough:

• Pam Bondi – Qatar’s registered lobbyist $115,000 per month

• Kash Patel – Security consulting for Qatar 

• Eric Trump – Building Qatari-funded golf resorts

• Jared Kushner – Took $1.5B from Qatari and Emirati funds

• Lee Zeldin – His firm was paid by a Qatari-linked company

• Steve Witkoff – Business ties with Qatari interests

• Barry Bennett & Doug Watts – Secretly lobbied for Qatar

• Joey Allaham – Arranged Qatari meetings with Trump insiders

Qatar doesn’t spend billions for friendship. They don’t give ‘gifts.’ They invest to control. They’ve been cited as one of the most corrupt countries on earth, specifically for bribing targets and people it deems necessary to cultivate. 

Terror money is still terror. No matter how big the check.

(https://www.facebook.com/share/p/15uCzp26XP/?mibextid=wwXIfr)

Jon Stewart on Trump’s, and by extension, our “friends:”

“So let’s see …

“Our friends are now El Salvador, Libya warlords, Russia, Noeth Korea, the Saudi Arabia royal family responsible for the death and dismemberment of Jamal Khashoggi, Qatar which funds Hamas, Syria whose president has been on the U.S. terrorist list due to his past ties with al-Qaeda, Mexican drug lords, and White Afrikaners who were the architects of apartheid.

“Are we missing anyone?”

(https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1AMiSGzWJp/?mibextid=wwXIfr)

Falsely attributed on Facebook and other web sites to Pope Leo XIV, the following, nevertheless, is a profound truth:

“You cannot follow both Christ and the cruelty of kings. A leader who mocks the weak, exalts himself, and preys on the innocent is not sent by God. He is sent to test you. And many are failing.”

Come Fly with Me: Qatar Tempts Trump

If Donald Trump is able to accept a gift from Qatar of an airplane worth $400 million for his use while president, and then have it transferred to his presidential library foundation once he leaves office, what would stop him from also taking one, or both, of the Library of Congress’ two original copies of the Declaration of Independence, one for his library, the other for Mar-a-Lago? After all, a copy of the original declaration, known as the “Dunlap Broadside,” printed in Philadelphia on the evening of July 4 and the early morning of July 5, 1776, is said to be worth only around $10 million. Pittance compared to the flying luxury liner. 

Trump has been flexing his muscles demonstrating he has ultimate authority over all government assets and personnel. Last week he fired the Librarian of Congress, for what seemed to many observers to be for no good reason other than she is African-American and was appointed by President Barack Obama. 

Trump also vehemently argued that all papers he took from the National Archives as he left the White House in 2021 were his for the taking. He rejected any inference that he violated any laws. 

If the Qataris want to donate a plane, do they not have to give it to the United States and not to Trump directly because of the Emoluments Clause that restricts the value of gifts a president or any American government official may receive without congressional approval? 

If so, if the airplane belongs to the government, could Trump simply designate it as a gift to his presidential library foundation and use it to ride around in once he leaves office? if he can, what’s to stop him from designating any gift he or Melania have received, such as jewelry, and say it is part of his presidential library artifacts? Could they wear the jewelry for dinners or other functions they attend post-office?

Once the airplane becomes U.S. property, would Trump have the right to “donate” it to his library foundation? Would he have the right to “donate” a copy of the Declaration of Independence or any other document of national importance, such as Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, to his namesake heritage facility?

It’s mind-boggling the amount of grifting that could be contained inside Trump’s massive body. 

Tariff Deal: So, a tariff deal with China is a pain-no-gain exercise. 

Yes, tariffs between China and the U.S. will be reduced to more sane levels for the next 90 days. But didn’t Trump initiate his tariff onslaught against the world, and in particular China, to jumpstart American investment in manufacturing? 

From this new tariff agreement it is difficult to see any movement in that direction. China will continue to be our preferred production partner.

Though Wall Street rebounded Monday, the average American worker and small business owner have little reason to rejoice. Planning ahead will be constrained, given Trump’s volatility and the ensuing caution of businesses to invest in new projects. 

There never was a realistic expansion of American manufacturing for a majority of products produced in China. Except in technology and energy conservation. But Trump has stifled commitments made under President Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act. 

We will know by mid August if Trump secures a deal beneficial to America. Until then, it would be an exercise in futility to speculate.

Trumpism vs. The New Pope

After Cardinal Robert Prevost was elected Pope Leo XIV Thursday, a friend asked me, “Will an American pope criticize Trump?”

My answer: If he is rooted in compassion for the underprivileged, for the “strangers” among us, for respect for humanity, for tolerance of the different, for a whole host of attributes lacking in our bloviating, White House occupant, I cannot imagine he will be able to abstain for long from expressing how his beliefs do not align with Trump’s.

Pope Leo XIV has a trail of articles, most written by others, posted on his social media account. Predominantly, they directly questioned positions by Trump and JD Vance (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/05/08/us/politics/jd-vance-pope-leo-xiv.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare). 

Naysayers are already throwing darts. As Heather Cox Richardson reported Friday, “Right-wing influencer Laura Loomer, who is close to Trump, called Pope Leo ‘another Marxist puppet in the Vatican.’ Influencer Charlie Kirk suggested he was an ‘[o]pen borders globalist installed to counter Trump.’” 

As the prelates of the Catholic Church have seemingly signaled the centrality of their faith in advocating for the welfare of even the most downtrodden, it is a sharp contrast to the savagery Trump is exacting on the once and current disadvantaged in our society. Trump is purging the contributions, even the very existence, of Black, Hispanic and Native Americans in the development and formulation of our country.

“A push to purge references to diversity and inclusion led to a page on Jackie Robinson’s life and military career temporarily vanishing from the Pentagon website. Arlington National Cemetery web pages highlighting the graves of Black and female service members disappeared. Books including “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the novel by Harper Lee about racism in the Depression-era South, were purged from schools run by the Defense Department, according to a lawsuit filed by the American Civil Liberties Union” (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/15/us/aclu-sues-defense-department-schools-over-book-bans.html?unlocked_article_code=1.F08.Tk4f.rrlA7SHFig50&smid=em-share). 

Leadership Questions: Do we want a generation of military officers and leaders to blindly follow orders, or do we want them to exercise judgment under fire, judgment that would uphold truth and the values of America? 

That dilemma is facing administrators and faculty at the nation’s service academies who are tasked with enacting directives from Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth to remove any inference to diversity, equity and inclusion in material cadets and midshipmen are exposed to at their respective academies (https://www.nytimes.com/2025/05/08/us/politics/west-point-hegseth-culture-wars.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare). 

It’s comforting to think our military responds bravely to enemies foreign and domestic. But the erosion of historical fact, coupled with the fear of retribution for not carrying out orders, has led to doubts about the backbone of our armed forces. 

“I’ve lost faith that most people will do the right thing under pressure,” Dr. Graham Parsons, a tenured philosophy professor at West Point, said. “That’s the really painful part of the last few months.”

 

Even if Trump doesn’t believe it, Blacks, Hispanics and Native Americans contributed to the development of the United States. He can try to erase their heritage in schools, the military, business, science and politics, but all that will accomplish is a deeper burnishing of his image as a racist. 

Black slaves taught South Carolina colonists how to cultivate rice, turning the crop into Carolina Gold. The Pilgrims survived because of help from Native Americans.

Navaho code whisperers helped soldiers defeat Japan. Black women were instrumental in launching astronauts into space and returning them safely to Earth. 

Hispanic settlers built up the Far West. 

Culturally, Blacks, Hispanics, Native Americans and, yes, immigrants from around the globe, transformed the ethos of America. 

Trump, and anyone who espouses his unitarian white vision of America, is an ignorant racist, a bigot on the wrong side of history.