A 7 Year Late Eulogy
To my dad, David Paul Benbassat
Hello Sketchbugs,
The end of February to early March marks the anniversary of my father’s death. It’s a strange time filled with long walks, brief morning cries, and the occasional folk music binge. This was the 7th year since he passed away; a milestone I’d never conceived of in 2018 when my mom, aunt, uncle, and I got the call that he had passed away peacefully in his sleep from complications with multiple myeloma. The following days were a blur, from planning funeral arrangements to trying to ask for more time off from school. (I was a junior at RISD at the time and the semester had just started). In all the madness, we had a quickly put together funeral in our apartment clubhouse, filled with shocked family and friends. I don’t remember much about the funeral besides one thing; the eulogies.
Mine was pretty short with small jokes, a nice memory, and tears at the end. Other people gave eulogies too, but like me and my mom, my father’s death was unexpected, and many were not prepared to talk about him like he was gone. If anything, I felt awful that I couldn’t give my dad a better ceremony or a better public send off. I know he wouldn’t have cared. We were by his hospital bed in his last days and got to say what we wanted to him, so it’s not like he’s haunting us for a better funeral. But for my own selfish wishes, I wish I was able to convey my all the things I admired about my dad, the life he lived and the genuine impact he made on those around him. While I don’t want a funeral part 2, I wanted to dedicate this post to him using my writing and illustration skills: the skills he encouraged throughout my life. Please enjoy this semi-illustrated, 7 year late eulogy about my dad, David Paul Benbassat.
David Paul Benbassat was born on June 11th 1946. The year after WW2 ended and the first official baby boomer year. His family moved all over the place because of his dad’s job as a military weatherman. He spent most of his early childhood in Hawaii, going to school barefoot and getting up to shenanigans with his friend Billy Coscarelli. Billy, who had repeated a grade, convinced my dad to fail 2nd grade as it was better the 2nd time around. Thankfully his mom stopped him before he sank his 2nd grade career.
When he was 9, the family moved to Hampton Virginia for Red’s work. The schools were segregated, antisemitism was bolder, and you couldn’t even go to class barefoot (lame).
Plus, the pledge of Allegiance had just changed to include “under God”, so my dad was shocked and upset at all these changes.
The one nice thing about Virginia, was that he met my mom, Carole Goldstein, in Hebrew school. They had an instant connection and became fast friends. If you want their love story, check out my Valentines post about them from last year: Everyday Romance with Carole and David
Middle school and high school passed by in Hampton. Dad delivered papers in the mornings, joined the Key club (still don’t know what that means) and started dating my mom around junior year. Their first date went horribly but my mom saved the relationship by asking my dad out at the Sadie Hawkins dance (a dance where the girls ask out the guys cause it was the 60s).
After graduating from high school, dad went to MIT for college to pursue a math major. He quickly found out he in fact hated theoretical math and switched to engineering. His fellow students were from the best high schools in the nation or straight up geniuses that didn’t have to study. On the other hand, he was a top student from a small southern town. Not only was there culture shock, but he also felt drastically unprepared for the amount of work MIT threw at him. Despite the struggle, dad always seemed to remember his college days fondly, oftentimes talking about his fraternity experiences, clever pranks, or the interesting characters he met in class. One of his favorite films was Animal House (1978) so he must’ve had fun there.
After graduating from college, mom and dad got married at the age of 22. They had been dating since high school, with mom even transferring from Goucher to Tufts to be closer to dad. Their marriage came at the chaotic year of 1968 which was the 2020 before 2020, with Vietnam waging, Martin Luther King’s assassination and RFK’s assassination. But they still made it work and they sure looked happy getting married.
With Vietnam at its height, dad was drafted but luckily avoided going to fight, instead being stationed around US bases doing technical work for the air force. At a training base in Mississippi, a soldier put swastikas on his door and later tried to drown him. My dad was a swimmer, so this was a big mistake, and almost drowned the guy in self-defense. This experience made him dislike the military and the deep south even more than before. I was not allowed to go to school past the Mason-Dixon line.
After his service ended, both my parents got their graduate degrees, with dad becoming a consultant for early computers. I never really got a grasp of what he did at this job as he rarely talked about it but I do know he mentioned Belle labs at one point so that lore might be uncovered one day.
When my parents were in the peek of their late twenties, early thirties, mom got sick with Scleroderma, a rare autoimmune illness with a 5 year life expectancy at the time. Unlike the 20% of men who leave their wives once they get sick, my dad stayed and stepped up to the plate to care for her. They adjusted their lifestyle to fit my mom’s disease, gave up trying for kids, and lived a fun, vibrant DINK (dual income no kids) lifestyle until they adopted 7 month year old me at the age of 50.
My childhood was a happy one, with many memories of my dad peppered throughout. We had long talks at the dinner table, winding walks in the neighborhood, giggly movies nights, heated badminton sessions in the driveway, and casual birdwatching on the patio. His signature catchphrase was “that’s pretty neat” and he’d say it to anything that sparked his joy, from a unique animal at the birdfeeder to a new dessert at the bakery.
He came to my sports games, encouraged my love for art whenever he could, and cooked up delicious meals for my mom and I almost everyday. One thing he loved to do was cut up fruit every morning before I went to school. The fruits would alternate per season and I never grasped how wonderful this gesture of kindness really was until I was away at college, missing my apples and pears.
When I was in 4th grade, my dad started teaching at Triton high school to help with the cost of my mom’s medicines. He began as a substitute, eventually teaching the intro and AP physics courses. He loved teaching and his students loved him; his nickname being Mr. B. He never considered himself a genius, so he invested tons of time getting the material as understandable as possible for his students.
He never wanted his students to feel the way he felt at MIT. One of his AP physics classes loved him so much they gifted him a teddy bear hamster named Newton. He lived with us for 6 years, spinning his wheel and eating sunflowers happily.
Dad didn’t just extend his teaching knowledge to his students. He helped me and my friends when we were going through high school physics too. I hated the subject, but seeing how happy he was talking about it, made the homework nights worth it. One time he was helping me with an equation for calculating the velocity of a bear chasing some hikers. While trying to explain something to me, he drew a bear that still leaves me laughing to this day. He might have been my dad, but he did not have a lick of drawing ability.
When I started considering art school and art as a career path, dad was my number one supporter and researcher. We toured all the art schools (above the Mason-Dixon Line) that we could. He even made sure to keep a detailed excel spreadsheet of research regarding each school. I know he was worried about how I would make a living, as many parents are, but he believed in my abilities. He never got to see me graduate nor see how far my illustration career has taken me, but at least his support got me in the door. On his deathbed, he looked into my eyes and said he was “so very proud of me”. Those words keep me going, even in these dark times.
I could say more about my dad’s life but he was so more than just a simple biography. He was a man who would cut fresh daffodils for my mom every spring, save every thank you card from his students, get free cake from the local bakery because of how often he visited, hum folk songs at night, admire the otters (his favorite animals) at the zoo, rant about how Star Trek was better than Star Wars, and give the best hugs when you were feeling sad. He left a meaningful impression on the people who knew him well and created a small crater of emptiness when he passed.
On his 7th death anniversary I took a long walk around Valley Forge. As the wind whistled and the trees danced, I could feel his presence. He was walking beside me, listening to me talk about my day, the state of the world, and how cute Mo was. He was and will always be there, walking by my side no matter how many years pass. And that, I think, is pretty neat.
Thank you for reading! If you met my dad before, I hope this eulogy helped you learn more about him (If you have stories about him, feel free to share them in the comments! Mom and I would love to read them). If you never met him, I hope this piece could convey what kind of person he was and how much he is missed.
Julie- Your dad was a terrific person- Both he and your mom were a big part of my life and integration into the North when I moved to NJ. This is a beautiful tribute to him. He would be so proud of the woman you are today. Thanks for sharing this.
P.S. the Key Club and Keyettes (women) were service clubs in high schools back in the day- raising money for things the school needed and doing service projects. Bell Labs was the research lab arm for the the telecom - at that time telephone- industry. If you want to know more about Bell Labs, my husband Mike may be able to help!
Best to you.
I’m over here crying before 9am! And then losing it over your dad’s bear and him being locked in researching art schools with you.
This is such a beautiful and vibrant picture of who he was as a person, someone who loved and was loved so deeply. Thank you for sharing these memories with us Julie 🤍