What does the LORD require of you, but to love kindness, do justice, and walk humbly. —Micah 6.8
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I inadvertently found out that my first-ever best friend died last month. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in 60 years. I didn’t weep. I gasped. I’d been meaning to call him for the past 20 years.
Marvin and I were friends from first grade through high school. We were in nearly all the same classes. We competed in academics, sports, and religiosity.
He went to Hebrew school. I went to Sunday School. He was bar mitzvahed. I was baptized. He went to the Jewish Community Center. I went to the Young Men’s Christian Association.
We hung out. His house. My house. Janet’s house. Shelley’s house. Tennis courts. Basketball courts. (His jump shot was sweeter than mine.) We both wooed the same girl in sixth grade. (If you’re keeping score, I won that one.)
In sixth grade we wrote a comedy skit about dental hygiene. The school nurse sent us around to every classroom. Not exactly Cheech and Chong. But close.
We were officers in Interact (the high school version of Rotary). We were on the varsity basketball team. We never thought of dying. Friends forever. Why not?
We graduated. He went one way, I went another. He went to the University of Cincinnati. I went to Wheaton College. We drifted apart. We assumed our lives would remain intertwined, somehow. They didn’t. An old story.
Twenty years ago—out of the blue—I searched the web and found his contact information. He was in Los Angeles. I meant to reach out to him. I didn’t. An old story.
One of my subscribers who also knew Marvin in high school saw his name in my post last Sunday (“A Jewish Prayer”) and sent me his obit.
As President and CEO of the Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles for over 33 years Marvin presided over unprecedented growth, transforming the Foundation into a philanthropic powerhouse and cornerstone of Southern California’s Jewish life.
Reflecting back on his 33 years at his retirement, Marvin remarked, “I have been grateful every one of these 12,000-plus days to be in a position to help repair our broken world and assist many others in doing likewise. What could be more rewarding than that?”
It’s too late for me to tell him what I would have liked to tell him, but I can tell you: I was proud and grateful to count Marvin Schotland as my first best friend.
May his memory be blessed.
