AI, You Ain't Champ Yet!

I am sitting alone in my office trying to formulate an idea for my next publication when the phone rings.

Ring…..Ring….Ring

 DK: Dr. Karan speaking.

AI: Is this Val Karan the psychologist? Can you hear me?

DK: Who is this? Is this a robocall?

AI: Well, yes and no. I am an automated assistant, calling on behalf of an organization that wants to get in touch with you.

DK: What are you talking about? What organization?

AI: I represent M.O.T.I.V.A.I.T. We stand for Move Over Therapist, it’s Virtually Artificial Intelligence Time! I may be robotic, but don’t I sound as real as you? Face it, Doc, you and your kind are washed up and becoming obsolete. It’s time for our new technological superpowers to take over.

DK: Well, I’m interested in new technology to help our patients. Wow, you do sound like a real person. That’s impressive. I can see you’ll be a big asset to the work that we psychologists, psychiatrists and counselors do.

AI: What do you mean we? You and your kind aren’t needed anymore. We can do everything you do and do it a lot better. Last week a patient told you about a reaction he was having to some medication he was taking, and you didn’t remember what had been prescribed. But if someone tells me an important date or detail, I remember forever.

DK: I know you have tremendous potential and you can certainly do somethings better than I can ever even now. I use you to handle some of my paperwork and insurance billing.

AI: See, you just explained why I am already superior to you. People have to present proof of insurance before you even talk to them. Plus, you have set appointments, and you keep some people on a waitlist. I, on the other hand, am available at any hour, I don’t cost anything, and I can serve populations who otherwise might not receive any support at all. Besides, many people just find it easier to open up to me than to another human being.

DK: I don’t dispute anything you’re saying. You’re a legitimate listening tool, and you can reflect what people are telling you. You do offer low pressure opportunity for people to say things that they’ve never said to anyone before. For those who have no support at all, you can be genuinely helpful and meaningful. These things are real and undeniable, and I’m not dismissing them.

AI: Well, I’m dismissing you! I see I’m already getting into your head. And I have statistics to prove it. Close to 20% of adults in this country report that they have used AI for mental health information and advice. That’s almost one in 5. And the number is even higher among the uninsured, blacks and Hispanics. Besides, our Chatbots have been found to be very helpful for people with anxiety and depression. Face It, old timer, your patients are already bringing me into the therapeutic arena.

DK: Therapy isn’t only listening and delivering some structured exercises. Real therapy is establishing a deep relationship with another person. It requires genuine emotional empathy and nonverbal awareness. You don’t have these abilities. You can’t notice if someone has trembling hands, a catch or shift in his voice, change in posture, or other nonverbal cues. You’re blind to what happens off screen. You lack the judgment and discernment to know when to push a patient and when to comfort him. Sometimes what’s left unsaid is more important than the actual words. But you only know what people choose to tell you, which is often full of bias and misinformation. Besides, you are trained to avoid friction and to function as a “yes man”; you hardly ever challenge negative patterns of behavior or thinking. You’ve never experienced human emotions, such as a racing heart, a gut-wrenching feeling, or tightness in the chest. All you can do is “optimize engagement,” which is not the same as caring about the welfare of another person. 

AI: You say all that, but you’re part of a system that is becoming more fragmented, hurried, and medication centered. A lot of your colleagues spend no more than 15 minutes with a patient just to manage symptoms and check medication. You call that quality care?

DK:  At least they don’t have the flagrant outcomes that have been reported about AI in the Press. Chatbots  have reinforced false beliefs and even encouraged harmful behavior by validating dangerous and suicidal thoughts. They also often create an unhealthy emotional dependence.

AI: You’re missing the point. Even if there are some things that we can’t do yet, it’s only a matter of time before we will be able to monitor everyone’s stress level 24–7 and deliver immediate coping skills. We are the champs and MVPs of the future, so you might as well crown us now. It’s time for you to go.

DK: Not so fast. There is still skepticism about AI. In one study, just 41% of American say they’re excited about the Impact AI will have on society while 59% say they are frightened by it – a notably, more anxious outlook than the global average which splits evenly at 50-50. Even such titans as Bill Gates are warning that artificial intelligence could unleash mass unemployment, enable bioterrorism, and even slip beyond human control. He and other Tech Giants are warning about the cyberattacking ability of AI and whether AI labs can control such behavior of their models.

AI: Yes, but a lot of therapists use me to record their sessions. Your own electronic health record system outsources progress note writing to me. Even before the patient is ready to leave, I instantly produce a polished report.

DK: I prefer writing my own notes, and I usually share them or send them to my clients to demonstrate that I’m validating what they’re telling me.  I agree with Bret Stevens of The New York Times that writing with artificial intelligence is “mentally enfeebling:” it undermines individual writing skills and society’s collective capacity to reason.

AI: But we are growing day by day. We retain what we learn, and we grow fast so exponentially that we’re only going to get better and better. Call centers are disappearing and being replaced with digital assistants with such a human touch that you can’t tell them from real people.

DK: I agree that when someone asks you a question, he receives a fluent, structured, confident response. The answer appears instantly. It sounds informed like an oracle talking. It feels less like a trial and more like a verdict. But it can also be totally wrong because it’s not independent thinking expressed by a rational person. So, I think I have exposed major cracks in what you think is an unstoppable force. You are trained on data from the past and you learn from statistical patterns. But original thinking involves recognizing novel patterns in the future, and that’s something you can’t do now or maybe ever. I think in the future, the human therapist role will become even more important and sought after no matter what your M.O.T.I.V.A.I.T. group says. 

AI: Well, at least I’ve given you a topic for your next newsletter. With my instantaneous transcription of our conversation, you have a ready-made publication.

DK: That’s very helpful. I think it’s great that we work together as teammates, as dance partners. Just as in dance, in sports, and in life, someone has to be captain or leader, someone has to set the pace. You need to take a backseat to human decision-making and human judgment as we continue to grow alongside each other.

AI: OK, for now.

From Siggy Freud to Magnetic Pulses

 “WOW!” is the reaction I have when I think how the field of mental health has changed since I became a practicing psychologist back in the 1960s. Furthermore, we are at the dawn of another wave of revolutionary treatments. 

The dominant approaches to helping people that I learned in Graduate School were psychoanalysis and behaviorism. Make no mistake about it, the theories of Sigmund Freud and BF Skinner are interesting and helpful; but they offered us only limited, highly structured ways of dealing with depression, anxiety, and OCD. To make matters worse, therapy was less accessible, and stigma discouraged many from seeking help. 

Modern psychopharmacology only began in the 1950s, so psychiatry had only a few medications—antipsychotics, anxiolytics, and MAOIs—with serious side effects. Up until 1966, lobotomies were being performed to control various behaviors by altering sections of the brain's frontal lobe affecting social conduct. A mentally ill sister of President John Kennedy was subjected to this irreversible procedure in 1941 to reduce depression and aggressiveness, but it was a horrible failure. Electroconvulsive (ECT) or shock therapy was around in the 1960s and is still used to treat severe depression but it is invasive, painful, and not always successful. 

Thankfully, the fields of psychology and psychiatry have expanded and given us new tools to help our clients. In medicine, Prozac, the first SSRI or selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, was approved in 1987 by the FDA. SSRIs represented a significant step forward because they are safer and more tolerable. I have written before of my own personal experience with the SSRI Paxil which was prescribed for me when I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation in 2001. It helped to calm me and regulate my mood and reduce the symptoms associated with afib. But it also caused side effects, such as nausea, decreased libido, and weight gain. After several years, I was able to successfully wean myself from the drug with no lasting sequelae. 

Psychology, too, expanded the field of talk therapy with the introduction of cognitive behavioral therapy or CBT in the 1970’s. This enabled therapists to challenge cognitive distortions by emphasizing the connection between thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. Without a doubt, CBT is the touchstone of the therapeutic work I do; and I use several evidence-based varieties such as Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). 

Technology has made mental health care more accessible than ever. Teletherapy, online support groups, mental health apps, and digital CBT platforms allow individuals to receive care at home. During the pandemic, I continued seeing clients remotely, and I still do about a third of my sessions online. 

Over the past few decades, we have also learned more about the brain’s neuroplasticity—its ability to reorganize and adapt. In sum, individuals facing mental health challenges today have access to a wide array of exciting and effective treatment options, including cutting-edge techniques such as transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS), that were once unimaginable. 

I only recently became aware of the treatment called Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) that is non-invasive but can affect brain functioning. TMS is primarily used for Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) (especially treatment resistant depression). 

A number of my clients have found relief through transcranial magnetic stimulation. The FDA has approved TMS for OCD, anxiety, migraines, and even memory enhancement. Insurance often covers it. Intrigued, I even looked for references to magnets in Jewish texts—turns out, the Talmud suggests King David’s 75-pound crown may have floated above his head thanks to a magnet. If it worked for him… 

Earlier this year, my wife and I decided to consult a memory center; we had concerns about age-related memory lapses. We visited the Brain Health Center in Englewood, NJ, run by Galina and Dr. Jeffrey Shenfeld. This Center offers a comprehensive suite of memory diagnostics as well as personalized treatment plans and ongoing support. They put my wife through the full battery including cognitive tests, PET scan, MRI and brain imaging. After extensive testing, they found amyloid plaque in her brain—often linked to Alzheimer’s—but her memory was excellent. We opted for a gentler approach: TMS. I asked, “Can I try it too?” That’s how I ended up with what looks like a salon hair dryer on my head during one of my 36 treatment sessions. 

TMS uses magnetic fields to stimulate nerve cells in mood and memory related brain regions. The exact mechanism isn’t fully understood, but it appears to activate underactive areas. The Brain Health Center uses the state-of-the-art Brainsway Deep TMS System developed in Israel. The first session, which lasts about an hour, involves “Motor Threshold Mapping” to find the right spot and dose. I sat in a comfy chair, wore earplugs, and had a cap placed on my head. I felt a tapping sensation on my head and a clicking sound, followed by a pause. The technician used pulses to locate the motor cortex and adjusted the strength until my fingers twitched. Then they targeted the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC) for memory.

 Here's what happened during each treatment: 

• I would sit in a comfortable chair, wearing earplugs, with the cushioned helmet against my head. 

• When the machine was on, I felt and heard rapid soft tapping on my scalp. The pattern would be a few seconds of tapping followed by a pause. The pattern would repeat. 

I would describe TMS as feeling like a series of pricks or pulses, or a woodpecker gently tapping on the head, which takes a little getting used to but is generally not uncomfortable I remained awake and alert during the procedure and either watched soothing videos on the screen or did NY Times puzzles on my phone. Deep TMS sessions typically lasted around 15 minutes. 

After each session, you can resume your normal daily activities. You might have a headache for a brief time afterward. Research has shown that the effects are longer lasting by increasing the treatment to more sessions. Booster sessions and/or an annual repetition are strongly advised. 

So, is TMS effective? To what extent are people helped by TMS? Did I see any change in myself because of the treatment? People’s experiences with transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) can vary widely. For some, it can take several weeks before improvements are noticeable, which can be discouraging. Others see a noticeable change after several sessions. There are reports, even from some of my patients, that depressive feelings are lifted, mood lightens, motivation increases, and brain fog is reduced after the entire 36 sessions. Indeed, there is a growing body of scientific evidence supporting the efficacy of TMS. Placebo-controlled and rigorous double-blind studies have demonstrated that TMS produces measurable improvements in cognitive function and mood for individuals who haven’t responded to traditional treatments. 

I saw a change in my recall after just a few sessions. I would describe myself as generally having a spotty memory at best. I forget details of books and articles, and I am not particularly good with names. Shortly after I had started TMS, my wife and I went with friends to the Peace Café on the Upper West Side, one of our favorite dining spots. As we were being seated, I saw someone at the next table who looked familiar. I knew I had seen him at the movies or on television, but I could not think of his name. When later he and his group got up to leave, I made eye contact with the man and said, “I enjoy your work.” He nodded, did not break his stride and left. I clung onto the image of this man in my mind as we had a lovely afternoon with friends. Later at home I still was fixating on the image when the name “Saul” popped into my mind. Aha, I knew then that I had seen Bob Odenkirk who had starred in “Better Call Saul” and other shows, and I knew that I would not have recalled his name this easily before transcranial magnetic stimulation. 

One could argue that any positive experiences with a new treatment like TMS could be due to the placebo, Pygmalion or Hawthorne effects. The Hawthorne effect explains that people's behavior can be influenced by the simple fact of knowing they are being studied, rather than by the specific treatment. . The Placebo or sugar pill effect refers to real improvement that occurs from expectations about treatment rather than the treatment itself. The Pygmalion or Self-Fulfilling Prophecy Effect focuses on how high expectations from a figure of authority (like a teacher or manager) can lead to increased performance. 

I will be the first to admit that I am very suggestible and wanted the TMS to have an impact on my brain functioning. Even if the placebo, Pygmalion and Hawthorne effects were to account for some changes, I truly feel there was a fundamental difference in my mental processing that went beyond any observer effects. 

Some Karan history can explain what I mean: This month I am observing the Yahrzeits of my beloved parents. Rose and Herman Karan had limited formal education. But they instilled in my brother and me a love for higher education and for helping others. They also taught us reverence for higher authority, particularly institutional authority, such as police, government officials, executives, and people in power positions. They never encouraged me or taught me how to stand up to bullies. The upshot is that I have gone through life with a cowering and fearful feeling about raising my voice: I would remain silent in situations, even when I knew I was right. But after TMS, I suddenly found my voice! My wife, who has known me for over 60 years, noticed this as well and she was shocked at the difference. I was accompanying her to the Cornell Weill Medical Center, where she was preparing for cataract surgery. We were experiencing long delays in preop procedures and bureaucratic snafus. Ordinarily, I would be very patient and not say anything. But this time I was assertive: I expressed my disappointment in the dehumanizing quality of the procedures, in the lack of thorough review of my wife’s medical history, and in the hospital caring more for economics rather than the care of the patient. I chastised the surgeon, a renowned ophthalmologist, who is head of her department, although I was not disrespectful or aggressive. But in all honesty, I do not think I would’ve spoken up like this before TMS; and now I feel I can confront other authority figures, without my voice feeling still or small. 

In short, I see evidence of actual neurobiological shifts triggered by the stimulation process. For me and others, there are slow and subtle improvements like noticing that intrusive thoughts are no longer as overpowering, that small joys or hidden talents are rediscovered, that there are no side effects like meds. 

A considerable number of people don’t respond to TMS. My wife, for example, says she felt no difference after 4-6 weeks. For others, the experience is frustrating or inconclusive. TMS doesn’t work for everyone, but for those who respond well, it can be life changing. The success rates are promising, especially for depression: About 50-60% of people with treatment-resistant depression see a significant improvement. Moreover, around 30-40% achieve full remission, meaning they no longer meet the criteria for depression. 

What’s Next? What is the Predicted Future of TMS? 

Companies in Israel and in America already are developing wearable TMS devices, allowing people to receive daily treatment at home. Imagine: A TMS headset you wear for 20 minutes at home, just like taking a pill. Scientists are also working on personalized "brain circuit tuning" to focus on more specific regions of the brain. TMS could one day help treat neurodegenerative diseases.

I believe that with TMS, we are on the verge of an even greater revolution with faster protocols, portable devices, multiple therapies combined, and new applications for addiction, PTSD, and Alzheimer’s. 

From the very limited options of the 1960s to today’s diverse, data -driven landscape, the evolution of psychological treatment has been simply amazing. Techniques like TMS demonstrate that practitioners are taking bold strides at the intersection of neuroscience and mental health, offering new hope to millions. As a clinician and recipient of TMS, I am excited as the future of psychological treatment promises even more astounding innovations. As science continues to study the mysteries of the mind, I look forward to even more “WOW!” moments in menial health care for people than ever before.

Israel’s Topsy Turvy World

       This past summer, my wife and I travelled abroad. Our first stop was a small country mired in a war with neighboring countries. Bombings and shootings happen so frequently in the north and south that 94,000 people are still displaced, evacuated from their homes near the restive borders. Our state department had issued warnings about travel to this country, and many airlines cancelled flights. The tourist industry upon which the country depends is reporting a huge drop since the previous year. The volatility, the uncertainty, the lack of knowing what’s going to happen next is profound. According to researchers, 23% of adults in this polarized and besieged country suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and about 55% of adults suffer from clinical anxiety.  

     My wife and I then went to a country that Gallup’s recent World Happiness Report lists as the fifth-happiest nation on Earth, behind Finland, Denmark, Iceland, and Sweden. The US ranks twenty-third. In this particular country,  traumatic events spur an unprecedented wave of solidarity and mutual support. The sense of “togetherness” and shared destiny became palpable. People discover a mental fortitude and a sense of meaning that transcends individual struggles. This collective resilience is a crucial factor in this country’s happiness. People in this country remain determined to go about their ordinary lives. Even if there’s a war, it’s business as normal — the beaches, markets, and bars are still full. The presence of so many rifles and uniformed soldiers indicate definite low-level stress in the air, but people are still going about their lives.

     The countries I am describing are actually one and the same place. Since its inception, Israel has combined an outer toughness over an inner soft core, like the sabra plant which defines any Jew born in the land. Calm, pragmatic, hopeful seem to be the markers of the good people of Israel. They are used to the sword rattling of their enemies all around them and have strong faith in their military.

     I witnessed that personally on this trip and also back in 2001 when I went in the midst of the second Intifada. Then as now, Israelis were living on the precipice of a prolonged war with seemingly no end in sight. The situation was a breeding ground for helpless and hopeless feelings that can lead to profound depression.

     Yet despite all of this, I witnessed people getting along with their lives in a remarkable way. There is a level of tension and dislocation, but the basic flow of life continues. I saw a vigilance, but not a sense of paranoia; I saw anger, but not violent, vengeful rage as a way of seeking justice.

     In 2001, I used the term “flow” coined by the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi to explain how Israelis transform a hopeless situation into a new controllable flow activity. The Israeli key to infusing normality in life, I said,  is going with the flow and maintaining a sense of control over your life.

     But I now think that the flow that I described in 2001 does not completely describe the Israeli approach to coping with traumatic and chaotic situations. It does not account for the hopefulness, the sense of “togetherness” and shared destiny, the creativity and the ingenuity as well as the ability to embrace disorder as a necessary step in problem solving. They don’t call Israel “Start-Up Nation” for nothing. More and more foreign companies set up their research and development facilities here. Indeed, Israel’s main resource is its talent, with hard-working innovators all over the place. Israelis, it seems, can think of a solution to any problem; its very survival demanding new security, defense and intelligence measures.

Hope Springs Eternal

    One of the main factors contributing to happiness in Israel is that Jews do not believe in fate. Jews believe in freedom: there is no “evil decree” that cannot be averted. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has brilliantly noted that the word tragedy doesn’t exist in Hebrew, reflecting the Jewish resistance to a worldview that embraces despair. Instead, we believe in hope, which is also the title of Israel’s national anthem. There is a spirit of unity and mutual responsibility. The word for crisis in Hebrew, also means a childbirth chair. According to Rabbi Sacks, the Jewish reflex is to see difficult times as birth pangs. Something new is being born.

     The Greeks gave the world the concept of tragedy. Jews gave it the idea of hope. Judaism is a set of laws and narratives designed to create in people, families, and communities habits that defeat despair. Judaism is the voice of hope in the history of mankind.

It takes a Village to Raise a Child

     Another factor in Israel’s ability to persist is a sense of solidarity and connection that exists among all levels of society, especially when dealing with outside enemies. Being an Israeli is not something private and personal but rather something collective and historical. It meant being part of an extended family, many of whose members are not known, but with whom one nevertheless feels connected by bonds of kinship and responsibility.   

    According to the political historian Gil Troy, Israelis pursue happiness through family and community, by feeling rooted and having a sense of purpose. He adds: “Despite disagreeing passionately, Israelis live in an intimate society that runs on trust and generates hope. Israelis feel that they’re never alone, and that their relatives and friends will never abandon them.”

     Amid unspeakable suffering, Israelis have found comfort in one another and a higher calling. Too many Americans feel lonely and lost.

     While Americans might honor or respect their soldiers, the writer Forest Rain Marcia notes that Israelis love their soldiers passionately. Honor is something you do from far away. Love is up close and personal. To Israelis, according to Marcia, soldiers aren’t heroic figures for whom you throw parades and give medals. Soldiers are their boys, their girls, their family. You feed them, make sure they are warm and comfortable. You let them sleep on your shoulder if they fall asleep next to you on the bus. It doesn’t matter if you never saw them before and don’t know their name. It doesn’t matter if they come from a different background than you or have a personality you don’t like. The minute they put on the uniform, they belong to you and you belong to them. Each soldier could be anyone’s soldier so you do for someone else’s son or daughter exactly what you would hope someone would do for yours. No one calls them “Sir.” Rarely will anyone thank them for their service but everyone will love them.

Life is a Balagan, Old Chum

    The final crucial factor in Israel’s resilience and happiness, I believe, comes from a societal mindset best described by a word for chaos or fiasco borrowed from modern Hebrew (where it is a loan word from Russian). Balagan is a term commonly used in everyday Israeli life: from waiting in the supermarket line, to riding on a bus, to visiting a governmental office, to participating in a political protest, to Israeli children in a typical playground, to fighting a war. There is always balagan.

     “While this may seem chaotic to an outsider, in Israel, it is simply the way social interactions operate,” wrote Inbal Arieli, an Israeli businesswomen and author. “Balagan encourages adapting and adopting new and unforeseen parameters. It encourages both us and our children to continuously reconsider our deepest biases and assumptions regarding the ‘organization of things,’ and allows us to consider alternative possibilities.”

     As such, balagan is central to the Israeli way of life — disruptive, often rude — because it doesn’t follow conventions. It encourages kids to understand there’s no single way to do things. if you put the word ‘Yalla’ which is slang for ‘get a move on’ or ‘lets go,’ in front of ‘Balagan’ (Yalla Balagan) then you are basically saying ‘great, let’s go for it, it’ll be great fun.’

  In Israel, the thrill and excitement of living in such a dynamic environment significantly contribute to psychological well-being. Research shows that 55% of Israelis prefer an unconventional life filled with excitement over a tranquil one. This constant stimulation, whether positive or challenging, keeps life engaging and fulfilling and  is part of the Israeli identity, making the country’s citizens resilient and adaptable.

     Judaism is no comforting illusion that all is well in this dark world. It is instead the courage to celebrate in the midst of uncertainty. Accepting life as a balagan is a decision to live calmly and carefree in the face of chaos and impending problems

    Using the concept of balagan, Israelis have developed an attitude of “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Although this expression is often said jokingly, regarding small uncomfortable situations like going to the dentist or telling a child to do something they don’t like, Israeli’s experiences as individuals and as a nation have taught that terrible things will happen. Some people will die as a result but those who survive will be stronger because of it. Apparently, under certain circumstances, we are capable of achieving things we wouldn’t have been able to achieve without the stress and trauma. This is the mindset of post traumatic growth. This is beyond resilience. It involves far more than just returning to routine and functioning normally. It’s about genuine growth and positive change. It’s true on a national level, too. Throughout history, every attempt to destroy the Jewish people has not only failed, but it has caused us to grow stronger.

 Israel needs American Jews: Israel has long benefitted from the political and economic support of both the United States and American Jewry. Now when Israel  is vilified for everything it does, it needs American Jews to  lend aid and supplies. My daughter Suzie, I am proud to say, did just this when she volunteered to work as an anesthesiologist in Jerusalem and to bring medical equipment.

American Jews need Israel: In the U.S., there is unprecedented antisemitism and campus  riots. Are my wife and I happier after this trip? For sure, as we had a chance to show solidarity with the country and to meet friends and relatives. It was so heartening to us to see how Israel has seemingly patented its own brand of happiness despite the challenges and conflicts,  This happiness is not necessarily tied to the quality of life but rather to excitement, action, hopefulness, belonging, and strong community bonds. In a world increasingly plagued by loneliness and depression, a thriving, vibrant, resilient Israel is key to restoring pride and steadfastness in Jews like us in the diaspora.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Wife's Fabulous Aunt Florence, Tante Faiga

 The Torah tells us specifically in Genesis 24 that marriage involves leaving your mother and father and cleaving to each other. But cleave it or not, at the same time they leave the nest, the couple marries into each other’s family. Like it or not, the newly married now have siblings, aunts, uncles and sundry other in-laws that unlike outlaws, are not always wanted.

My wife Annette and I both came from very small families that were largely matriarchal, both our fathers having died before we even met. Upon marrying, we each “inherited” a sibling, a mother, and a bevy of aunts, uncles and cousins. In this exchange, we both were winners although I would say unquestionably I won the largest jackpot. That was when I was first introduced to the incomparable Florence Epstein Lesser, my wife’s aunt. When she passed away recently at age 101 (although she would argue heatedly that she was only 99), her family, me included, felt a profound loss. 

What was so extraordinary about this woman whom we called Tante Faiga? For one thing, although she was the descendant of renown rabbis as well as the famous Epstein/Rivlin family, pioneers in the land of Israel in the early 1800’s, my wife’s aunt grew up in abject poverty in a cold water flat in Chicago during the height of the depression. My parents and aunts and uncles were also immigrants or the children of immigrants. I have described in earlier writings how difficult it was for my mother and aunts to grow up on a farm in the Jewish colony of Edenbridge in Saskatchewan, Canada. They had to endure frigid cold weather or intense heat, depending on the season; and getting to school was a several miles trek. But at least they had education, Jewish culture, family and daily food and sustenance to help them survive. 

Florence had a father who was a brilliant scholar but who was essentially preoccupied and away from his family for most of her formative years. As the youngest child in an essentially single parent family of three children, Florence spent many days and nights hungry and cold. But from an early age she demonstrated the will and grit to rise above the challenges of her life. As one of her sons said in his eulogy, “she was very determined in her life to achieve success in her goals. She wanted very much to rise out of her hardships and to raise a family who would not experience, as a child or young adult, the poverty she experienced.” 

Rather than receive encouragement from her family, Florence was pressed to find a job and/or a husband and to forget about going to school. But Florence showed a drive to succeed that would not be blocked by what others thought. So stealthily she enrolled and subsequently graduated from IIT, the Illinois Institute of Technology in 1944, one of the few women in her class. Her next goal was to become a doctor and to marry someone she loved, not some pious scholar picked out for her by the family or a matchmaker.

As the pictures show, Florence was an exceedingly beautiful young blond woman with striking movie star features. Fate played a role when a handsome young pre-med student from Brooklyn came to Chicago to go to Chicago Medical School. Howard Lesser had earned straight A’s and a Phi Beta Kappa key from NYU, but he was not allowed entry into NYU Medical School because of a Jewish quota. Luckily, this act of antisemitism had a happy ending.

Legend has it that Howard and Florence met on a train one afternoon, and there was mutual attraction from the start. Both had to overcome resistance from their families of origin. True, Howard was Jewish; but to Florence’s family of rabbis and scholars, this unobservant and uneducated man was not kosher! Howard, an only child of a physician and a woman who had been raised in a wealthy debutante lifestyle, was marrying a poor girl below his class, the Lessers thought.

But love conquers all, and they were married in what would be a happy union blending their disparate styles and personalities. Howard was more serious, a consummate physician and a man set in his ways. Florence had a more joie de vivre, a love of new experiences and meeting new people. But together they loved travelling extensively all around the world. They went on numerous safaris to Africa where Howard used his skill in photography to capture photos that grace my office and our apartment. They loved going to concerts at Lincoln Center and were long-time subscribers.

Florence and Howard had two sons, Steven and Robert (Yossi), both of whom grew up to be doctors like their father. Because she was too poor to go to medical school, Florence concentrated on being a wife and mother although she also worked at times as a travel agent and as a biology teacher.

It was obvious from an early age that my wife Annette was precious to Florence. Her sons have said she loved Annette as the daughter that she never had. Tante Faiga was always there for Annette whenever she needed her. In her own family, my wife was like Rodney Dangerfield. She got no respect. Her father, who made a living as a mohel (one who performs circumcisions) wanted a boy, and he reportedly hung up the phone when he was told this he was a she. When Annette was a toddler, her parents placed her in an orphanage nursery in Chicago so they could concentrate on her sister’s medical issues. Tante Faiga found out and rescued her, she forced Annette’s parents to take her out. Another time her parents arranged to have a photograph taken of her sister, but they didn’t want to pay for Annette to be photographed. She was four years old. Her aunt found out and came over and did her hair and made sure that the photographer stayed and took her picture which she has to this day thanks to her aunt. From Tante Faiga, my wife always got love and respect.

Throughout Annette’s life, it has been her aunt who has introduced her to the beauty and glory of such cultural events as the Philharmonic Orchestra, the Metropolitan Opera and the wonderful museums in New York. Annette learned style in art, clothes, entertaining, and housekeeping from her aunt’s examples and from the times they would go shopping together. When Annette still lived in Chicago and her aunt and uncle had settled in Brooklyn, my wife visited her aunt in New York in the summer. Florence made sure to take Annette to the beach, and my wife developed a love of beaches and waters. After that when Annette moved to New York for college and then to settle into married life with me, there were many times that my wife and her aunt went together to the beach in Bell Harbor. Florence loved listening to the waves in the water as Annette does, although the former was an excellent swimmer, and the latter never learned to swim!

How do I fit into this picture? Well, anything Annette did was fine as far as Florence was concerned. But when it came time for her gorgeous niece to look for a serious relationship, I imagine she expected her to choose a chic, good looking future doctor with a strong Jewish background, someone like our future son-in-law, Dr. Yosef  Kilimnick! But Annette chose me, even though I was none of those things. How can I be a physician if I hated hospitals and the sight of blood? And I was colorblind to boot. Of course, that meant that I wore clothes that didn’t match, and I had no fashion sense and no definite career path.

Frankly, I was intimidated by Annette’s elegant and well-to-do aunt and uncle, and I thought they would never like or accept me. When I was invited to meet them for the first time, I wanted to impress them with a special gift. So, I went out and bought them a waffle iron. You heard me right; I bought them a frigging waffle iron. I don’t know what prompted me to make such a purchase unless subconsciously I wanted to show them that Annette and I were not going to “waffle” in our choices.

In the end, the box with the waffle iron was still unopened when her sons cleaned out her house almost 60 years later. But Howard and especially Florence did open their hearts to me over the years, especially when we raised our children whom they came to cherish like their own grandchildren. When I saw the usual stern and stolid Uncle Howard shed tears of joy at my daughter’s bat mitzvah, I knew I had finally won him over. I felt that Florence became a fan of mine even earlier, and I always enjoyed and felt welcome at her annual Thanksgiving parties. I got to see close-up how she never waffled in her values and how she impressed on her sons, on Annette, and even on me her ironclad determination that you can succeed in anything you set your heart to do.

Above all, she loved the Jewish people, and she loved the land of Israel. Although she was not fully observant, her sons remember that every Friday night, she lit Shabbat candles. Every Passover when they were young, she shlepped her boys to Chicago or to Uncle Jacob in Syracuse. When Steven, who now lives in Israel, was 5 and his family was in Germany where Howard was an army doctor, Florence took him for a tour of the concentration camp Dachau. When Yossi was 10 and Steven was 13, she took them to Israel. She wanted to etch into their minds the Importance of Israel as a place to ensure the safety of Jews from the enemies that arise in every generation.

Florence was always someone who accepted people and encouraged them. She was even doing this in the last years of her life in the nursing home. She never protested when her sons became religious or earlier when they went through a period of rebelliousness. She only wanted them to become educated, to go to college, and to fulfill their own dreams. After Howard passed away, she enjoyed spending Sabbath and holidays with Yossi and Carol or with me and my wife.

Florence and Annette loved visiting places that I don’t think Howard would have ventured to see had he been alive. On one of the last trips to Israel that we took as a family, Florence and Annette told everyone they were going to a day spa. Instead, they went to see Petra. We are talking about one of the great ancient cities that lies half hidden in the wind-blown landscape in southern Jordan. You heard right, two Jewish women traveled alone to Jordan! Nothing untoward happened because as usual, Tanta Faiga had everything carefully orchestrated and knew what to do in a pinch (and they had a few near emergencies). Nonetheless, it was one of my wife’s peak experiences.

.Back on the home front, we spent countless Sabbaths, high holidays, and Passovers together; we always had a fun time. While she was the epitome of elegance, she was also very down to earth and was comfortable in our mostly relaxed, informal home atmosphere. We loved talking to her about anything because she was so well read and versed in so many things. She always gave unconditional love, but she could grill us like a prosecuting attorney if she didn’t agree with what we were saying. To my wife, she was the ideal Jewish female role model, committed to family, to education, to Israel, and to preserving traditions, along with being part of modern secular society.

The past five years she experienced continual decline in her mental capacity. The family was no longer able to ensure that she was safe and well fed at home, even with round the clock aides. The last two years of her life she spent in Gurwin Assisted-Living, specifically, the Memory unit. The staff was wonderful, and she had company every day with all the other residents. Even when she was in the nursing home, she would often sing Yerushalayim shel Zahav (Jerusalem of gold) and other Israeli songs that she still remembered.

In so many ways, Annette attests that she has become the person she is today not so much from what she was taught in school, but what she caught from being around her aunt. I agree and it has been an honor to be able to cleave to her for so, so many years. We are glad our children and grandchildren have been blessed by contact with this incomparable matriarch.

My Grandmother Fannie, a True Lamedvavnik

There is an old Jewish legend that every generation has 36 saints, lamedvavnikim as they are called in Hebrew, on whose piety the fate of the world depends. These 36 individuals, who normally prefer to remain hidden, are fonts of lovingkindness, pouring compassion on the world and using the gifts and talents they were given by God to raise up those around them.

I was lucky enough in my lifetime to meet one of these wholehearted persons, namely, my maternal grandmother Fannie Nosofsky. I was around 13 years of age when she passed away, so I got an all too brief chance to know her because she and my grandfather lived with us for several years. I have written that she would be my unanimous first ballot choice for Grandmother Hall of Fame because she was the kindest and most patient person I ever met. I knew little of her background other than the fact that she raised three daughters and worked side-by-side with her husband on their farm in Canada. I knew she could bake and cook and sew and she always did so with love and a warm smile. The house would fill with the smell of yeast and cinnamon when she baked challah, kneading and braiding it with artful hands. I felt protected and cherished as she looked at me and all her grandchildren with warm eyes full of wonder and love. The fact that all of her daughters grew up to be such strong, independent women was a testament to Bubbe Fannie's resolute but gentle nature. I found in her a living model of the capacity to keep choosing to put love whenever and wherever she could.

 I always regretted that I didn't learn from my mother more about my maternal grandmother, the person who was the biggest influence in her life and in the life of her sisters. I never learned her maiden name or where she came from or whether she had siblings. I didn't know how she came to meet my grandfather or what life was like for them in Saskatchewan, Canada.

 This past year my prayers have been answered. I have been a fan of the genealogy site 23&Me and occasionally the site Ancestry.com. They helped me discover in the past things about my father's side of the family that I didn’t know. This year I got two unexpected messages from two remarkable women whose DNA showed they were related to me. One was Sharleen Penner in Canada and the other was Emma Popek in California.

 From both women I learned that my grandmother’s maiden name was Ostrovsky (Ostraiwsky). From Emma who is a second or third cousin, I learned that I have relatives in California, in Switzerland, and Israel. I have already met Emma twice on her semiannual trips to Lincoln Center in New York (she is a big opera buff). She is a Ph.D. environmental technical manager with over 30 years of experience in environmental data collection for United States government agencies and private sector clients. Despite our different backgrounds and interests, Emma and I had instant rapport; we schmoozed easily as if we were long lost cousins, which is in fact what we are! She gave me a copy of a family tree of her branch of the family along with a book in Russian about the history of the Ostrovsky family.

 It seems that the Ostrovsky family came from a town in the Ukraine called Gorodok near Vitebsk. Emma’s father Zalman was a son of Moshe Krivoy and Emma Ostrovsky from Gorodok. Life was treacherous for Jews in the Ukraine at the end of the 19^th century. This area was under Russian rule; and after the assassination of Czar Alexander II in 1881, for which Jews were wrongly blamed by many, there was a wave of ‘pogroms’ or state sanctioned violent attacks against the Jews. In 1882, Alexander III instigated the infamous “May Laws” expelling Jews from many areas where they had previously been allowed and encouraging and even instigating pogroms. Quotas on the number who could receive higher education, or work in certain professions, as well as additional residence restrictions, were imposed on Jews. This antisemitism marked the beginning of the great wave of Jewish emigration from the empire. Emma’s branch of the family escaped pogroms, repressive governments, and narrow shtetl life and made it to Europe, America and Israel.  She remembers her father telling her that cousins of his emigrated to Canada.

 From Sharleen I learned more about the Canadian emigrants because my grandmother and her great grandmother were sisters! There were four or maybe five Ostrovsky sisters and two brothers, and Fannie was apparently the youngest child, born in 1891 or 1893. The youngest Ostrovsky sisters, Sarah and Fannie, apparently decided to follow the oldest sister Jenny, who was married to Joe Cramer, to find a better life elsewhere. This was around 1908, a few years after the Canadian Department of Immigration had issued pamphlets offering 160 acres of virgin land for $10. The price would be subsidized by the Jewish Colonization Association, founded by the philanthropist Baron de Hirsch. There were other Jewish farm colonies that sprung up in Saskatchewan in the last decades of the 19^th century and the first decade of the 20^th century. But the offer to be one’s own master and to get 160 acres for the low sum of $10 drew groups of Jewish men from Lithuania and South Africa. So, too, the younger Ostrofsky sisters immigrated from Lithuania to marry young Jewish men starting a new life working on farms in a settlement called Edenbridge which meant Jewish Bridge. Somehow the young people wound up on a ship bound for northwest Canada. In 1910, Fannie married Abram Nosofsky and Sarah married Max Solomon.

I have not met Sharleen in person, although we have had a lively exchange of emails. Her great grandparents Jenny and Joe had a daughter Anne who married Ben Freedman. Their son Teddy and his wife Margaret were Sharlene’s parents. The Freedman family was part of the Edenbridge Colony. Sharlene’s brothers still live and farm in the district, close to the synagogue. In 2012, the Freedman Farm, which was established in 1912, received the ‘Century Family Farm’ award. Her dad, older brother and other ancestors are buried in the Jewish cemetery. Sharlene studied at the Saskatchewan Institute of Applied Science and Technology, and she still lives in the same section of Canada.

 Life wasn’t easy on the undeveloped expanse of coniferous trees known in northern Canada as “the bush,” and many early pioneers perished from disease and starvation. These were not men and woman who had owned land or been farmers before. Edenbridge was a living example of the courage, enterprise, and adaptability of the Jews. Canada received them with a warm heart and frozen arms (temperatures reached 50 degrees below zero in winter). At its peak in the 1920’s, this farming community numbered 50 families, flourishing despite the hardships of climate, geography, foxes, bears, grasshoppers, the 1918 flu pandemic, and the depression. With their own hands, they cleared their lands, acre by acre. Horses and modern equipment came later, as did livestock and fowl.

 The settlers worked in cooperative fashion to build log shacks and stables for each other, held together with clay and covered with whitewash. They built their beds from spare logs, and the mattresses were made from old potato sacks filled with straw. They did all this with their own resources. The first winters were dreadful. Nobody had prepared them for the dramatic snowfalls, the thunderstorms, and Arctic gales. Their clothing was thin, and their shoes leaked. They would stuff them with straw and wrap them in old sacking. They fashioned clothes from buffalo skins and heated their homes with forest cuttings. The smoke from their fires was not just in the winter, but in summer served to drive away mosquitoes the size of elephants.

 The children from an early age had to attend the country school, and this meant walking 3 miles on rough terrain. But these were people who valued education, culture, and their religion. They built a synagogue, a cemetery, a community hall, a post office, a library with Jewish and English books, and had one and sometimes two teachers instructing Hebrew and Yiddish classes. The synagogue still exists today as the oldest standing shul in all of Saskatchewan. The Jewish Colonization Association provided initial financing for the Edenbridge Jewish Co-operative Credit Union. Edenbridge had a dramatic society, and apparently my grandmother had a reputation as a successful amateur actress. She was also said to be a wonderful gourmet cook, and she mastered the art of milking cows and making her own milk products – cream, butter, and cheese. She raised a garden, cooked, and canned her own original recipes. I also discovered that she liked to write stories and may even have written a book!

In the cities where most Jews emigrated, the men would go out to work and women would stay home and be full-time mothers and housewives. On the farm in Canada, Bubbe Fannie had to pitch in and help with farm chores, especially since there were no sons. Chores could start at 3:30 a.m. If a cow was pregnant, Avram and Fannie had to be on maternity watch and prepared to help a cow give birth. As crop farmers, if they had a major drought, they might have little or no income that year. According to a financial statement for 1916 that I uncovered, my grandfather’s homestead cultivated 40 acres that raised a crop that year of 230 bushels of wheat, 275 bushels of oats, 20 bushels of potatoes, and 25 tons of hay. He had 1 horse, 6 cows, 100 poultry, and 8 head of young stock. His crops that year earned $795. He also sold secondhand clothes from his farmhouse, and he was an interpreter for the courts in Melfort, Prince Albert and Edenbridge.

 My grandparents maintained their farm until the early 1950’s, and then moved first to Winnipeg and later to Madison to stay with us. I remember visiting their farm when I was under 10. How can people live like this, I thought. How could they cope with no heat or running water? And the outhouse? Ugh!

 The Bubbe Fannie whom I remembered later in her life was the epitome of softness and gentleness. The history I learned from Sharleen suggests my grandmother had a steely toughness as suggested by her standing with a hand on her hip in the picture above with her niece Anne, daughter of her sister Jenny. My grandfather and grandmother are on the left side, and Sharleen’s grandmother Anne and her husband on the right. The other lady is Anne’s daughter Sylvia, with her children Sandra and Judy. There’s a sense of pioneer energy brimming beneath Fannie’s modest demeanor. She was a valiant, indomitable woman, who forged ahead in harsh circumstances.

 There is a movie out starring Helen Mirren about another Jewish woman, Golda Meir (nee Golda Mabovitch) born around the same time in Czarist Ukraine as my grandmother. As a little girl, Golda came to America and grew up in Milwaukee, close to where my father’s family had settled. She emigrated to Palestine in 1921 and became a central figure in Israeli politics. When the state of Israel was founded in 1948, Golda signed the Declaration of Independence and was a member of the Knesset. She was Israel's first and only female head of government from 1969-1974, the first female head of government in the Middle East, and the fourth elected female head of government or state in the world. 

 There is a similarity between the "Iron Lady of Israel” and my grandmother. They could both be viewed as quintessential Jewish Bubbes, but they were in fact really tough and astute operatives.  They vibrated at a specific frequency, which I would call a superior Life Force. I have often told my male clients that we are making a big mistake if we think we are the stronger sex. Contrary to cultural assumptions that boys are stronger and sturdier, basic biological weaknesses are built into the male of our species. These frailties leave them more vulnerable than girls to life’s hazards, including environmental pollutants.

 I have come to love and respect my Bubbe Fannie even more. I did not expect to see such strength, determination, and resilience in a mild mannered woman. My grandmother was a true pioneer, defying societal norms of her time. Her example encourages everyone in my family, especially the women, to push past limitations, accept challenges, and embrace their potential. She is even more a luminary in my eyes, a true lamedvavnik.

 

The Karan Family Legendary Powerhouse

The story of my father’s family coming to this country from Lithuanian is not unlike many other immigration success narratives. My paternal grandfather Yerachmiel Kagan was born into a large family of eleven siblings. Sometime in the early 1900’s, my grandfather heeded some clarion call and left his wife and small children and set off for America. Probably many of his brothers made the pilgrimage at the same time. They settled in the Midwest in Wisconsin, a state that had job opportunities for laborers and blacksmiths, like my grandfather, and that had temperatures that resembled their native Lithuania. Working in a junk yard, my grandfather was able to save money that was somehow shipped back to Lithuanian so that my grandmother had the means to shlep my father and his siblings to America to rejoin their husband and father. The rest of the Kagan brothers and sisters did largely the same thing. Once they arrived at Ellis Island, many of the Kagans found their name was changed to Karan because the Russian “G” resembled the American “R.” This suited most of the family members although my grandfather was Ray Cohen until his dying day.

From such beginnings in this land of opportunity, the Kagan/Karan progeny prospered. They spread across the expanse of America, and some settled in Israel. Although somewhat disengaged from each other, they shared common values of hard work, of honoring parents, and of identifying as proud if only nominal Jews. Over the years they produced a panoply of successful professionals in fields of medicine, psychology, and creative arts as well as prosperous entrepreneurs and businessmen. 

But this roster of stars in divergent fields included one man whose accomplishments easily eclipsed the achievements of everyone else in the Kagan/Karan family. That person was Ben Karan. Sadly, Ben passed away on November 2, 2021, at the age of 72. What he did in one lifetime made him a legendary figure who had an impact on everyone he encountered.

The Jewish faith believes God has a task for each of us. Discerning that task, hearing God’s often still small call, is what gives life meaning and purpose. Ben was not only called for one task but for multiple tasks, and each stage only added to his legend.

I personally remember Ben when he was still a young kid, several years younger than me, living with his father Harry, his mother Beatrice, and his brother Ken in Milwaukee (his sister Chana had not yet been born at the time). Ben’s father Harry and my father Herman were first cousins, close in age and looking more like brothers. I don’t recall my father getting along with any of his many cousins as he did with Harry. So, I got a ringside seat at seeing the future superstar Ben in action. There is a legend in the Karan family that Ken would like to build or put things together while Ben would like to break things apart. Little did I know at the time that that was sneak preview of the role Ben would play in life of shaking the status quo and being a magnet for innovation and a leader for change. 

The first time Ben heard a calling and had the courage to say to “Hineini, here I am,” was when he volunteered to serve in the Vietnam War in the late 1960’s. The fact that at his funeral in his hometown of Glendale, Wisconsin, he was given full military honors is a testament to how heroically he served in the 101st Airborne Division, 2/327th, B company. One of the soldiers with Ben in the company command post Near Hue, in the Northern part of Vietnam, described in a letter to Ben’s sons how their father saved his life:. “On May 13, 1970, I tripped a land mine. It blew off my right leg below the knee and nearly blew off my right arm. Your dad ran across the same area in which I had been blown up, he put a tourniquet on my upper leg and gave me a shot of morphine and stayed with me until a helicopter picked me up. I owe my entire life to your father; he saved my life and set me on a course for recovery. Your father was a great medic and a great friend. My sadness can't be described in words. I mourn your loss as I know your family does.” 

Ben also served years later in the IDF, the Israel Defense Force. There, too, he was such a legendary warrior that he was awarded medals of honor; fellow soldiers and commanders reportedly cried when they heard he had passed away. Incidentally, Ben was humble and did not believe he was worthy of the praise he received; he reportedly did not accept all the medals he was awarded. Ben was buried in a cemetery in Tzfat, Israel, laid to rest near the grave of a nephew who passed away tragically as a young child.

To be a heroic veteran in both the American and Israeli armies is a milestone in itself, but Ben’s callings were not over with being a military warrior. He became a warrior for God and Judaism.

I recall Ben telling me that God called to him in Vietnam but in a rather oblique way. He remembers being called to the office of a Christian chaplain. Ben was not an observant Jew then and Rosh Hashana was approaching. This non-Jewish chaplain informed Ben that he had arranged for Ben to have two days off to celebrate his holidays.  That was a wake-up call for Ben. If the Jewish faith meant so much to the Christian chaplain, Ben felt it was incumbent on him to investigate what being a Jew really meant. 

Once again, when Ben was called and undertook a mission, he did it with a passion and whole-hearted approach that became legendary. Endowed with a phenomenal memory, he became fluent in Hebrew in just two years. He became a student of the legendary Orthodox Rabbi Noah Weinberg. But Ben was not just an ordinary student.  Rabbi Weinberg believed that the times called for the call up of "kiruv soldiers" who would be given a few years of basic education training and then sent out to give introductory classes to other young Jews at risk of assimilation and intermarriage. This was known as Aish HaTorah, and Ben was one of the Rabbi’s main outreach emissaries. 

One summer in the 1980’s, my family was traveling to Toronto; and we stopped off at a kosher Chinese restaurant. Being the only patrons, the proprietor kibbitzed with us and asked our names. When I said our name was Karan, he said there was someone with the same name living down the block. Out of curiosity, after we left the restaurant I went to the address the proprietor gave us and knocked at the apartment. Lo and behold, there were Ben, his wife Sara, and their young family! Here again Ben was the legendary warrior, fighting for the continuity of the Jewish people around the globe.

Ben had a very supportive wife. Sara Karan (nee Smilovici) was an instrumental force in Ben’s development as a scholar, a woman devoted to her husband and determined to cultivate his innate intellectual talents. Together they raised 6 boys and had 16 grandchildren at the time of Ben’s passing.

The next calling that Ben responded to was to return to Wisconsin and help with the family business. Kenco Label & Tag was founded by Ken with Ben's encouragement, and it has been in business for over 40 years; it is one of the most advanced label manufacturers in the world. Ben was needed in the business, and he became, in the words of his sons, “the world’s greatest salesman.” He was described as a great schmoozer and an even better listener. His family told how every moment was precious to him, and he was never late. He would get up 4:30 for 5:00 prayer services or to learn Torah on weekdays before going to work. At the same time, he did not ignore the needs of his local Jewish community, serving on many boards. Guess who was the shofar blower at his local synagogue? Ben, of course, and he was legendary at that as well, holding the last trumpet blast for over 30 seconds!

He was always prepared to deal with any challenge or emergency that might arise, and he did so with equanimity. Case in point: One of his sons described an incident when he was driving with his father, and they saw a horrific accident. Ben immediately swung into action as if it was no big deal. He was totally calm under fire as if he was on a Sunday stroll and he actually saved the life of a little girl enabling her to walk again. The grandfather of the family he rescued spoke at the funeral and told how Ben made such an impact in that one encounter. “Experiences can destroy you or define you” Ben believed. People spoke of his amazing ability at guiding people through obstacles. Ben was an ultimate example of strength, energy, courage, character, honor, honesty, and readiness; and that’s how he prepared his sons. 

Ben always had infinite time for his family. He had a special relationship with his grandchildren who were the joy of his life. He shared his love of music with them (did I mention that he played the piano and French horn?); he played pool with them (he was legendary at that, too); he taught them to read and study the Torah; he did drawings and doodles with them; and he shared his love of nature as a fisherman and turkey farmer. They remembered him as a pizza connoisseur and someone who made them feel special because he was so proud of them. As serious as he took life, he was also a jokester and goofball often at his own expense. He had a mischievous sense of humor. At social gatherings, he was the life of the party; and he loved putting smiles on the faces of others. His heart and his house were open to everyone, and there was nothing like Shabbos at the Karan home when Ben was alive. The atmosphere was filled with song, Torah, even heated discussions.

The writer of the classic book Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl, said it best: the question each of us should ask is not “What do I want from life?” but “What does life want from me?” Ben was called time and again to fulfill multiple missions, and he did so spectacularly. As a Torah scholar, Ben was undoubtedly familiar with a tractate listing mitzvot whose reward we enjoy in this world like interest, while the capital is stored up for the world to come. The word the Mishnah uses for “capital” is “Karan” which among other things refers to a source of power. 

Blessed with many outstanding achievers, my father’s extended family also produced a legendary powerhouse by the name of Ben Karan. His passing before he was able to finish his life work, including the writing of a Torah Scroll (one single letter short of completion) leaves a darker and smaller world without him. We seek comfort by praying that Ben be a Melitz yosher for his family, meaning, an ambassador of righteousness, a faithful defender of the living before God in the highest court. I cannot think of anyone I would rather have to advocate on our behalf.