90 years. How do you honor and do justice to 90 years in just a few minutes?
I don’t know that it can be done, but Dad, I will do my best.

My father couldn’t get over the fact that he had turned 90. Recently, he often started a conversation with asking someone – can you believe I’ve turned 90? That seems so unbelievable to me. That’s just crazy!

Who is my Dad, was my Dad? You may have left this earth, but your nishema (soul) lives on so I’ll say is. My Dad is a man of faith, a man of Torah, a man of family, a man with a purpose. A purpose to serve and help others. When I joined him in business 20 years ago he said, “Barbara, we are going to heal the world one person at a time.”

90 years. An (almost) brief timeline –

1935 – 1945: It’s just Dad, his brother Joe whom he so looked up to, and his parents. They live on a farm in Rockland County. His father is a dentist who works in Brooklyn. Life is simple but it’s the Great Depression so times are tough. His mother isn’t happy about the country life so they sell the farm and move to Brooklyn. Especially recently, my father would talk about their home on Clarkson Avenue – his father’s office on the ground level and their apartment just above.

1945 – 1955: Younger brother Jack comes along, 11 years his junior. Dad is enrolled in Yeshiva. He has a long commute on the subway to get there – he attributed this experience to how he learned one of his favorite skills, to sleep anywhere, anytime—his infamous naps on the subway to and from school. Dad would tell us stories about “the insanity” of his Yeshiva years. He had dyslexia and ADHD – learning disabilities that are better understood now but were virtually unknown then so he was always considered a troublemaker. His two favorite stories about getting into trouble – one of the head Rabbis saying “Schwartz, you hoodlum, you are suspended indefinitely for three days, now go to your room!” He would say to us, can you imagine the insanity of hearing a nonsensical statement like that? And because he couldn’t sit still, being sat at a desk in the hallway, attending class by peering through the crack in the door and learning to have a tough skin because of the teasing from the other kids because he was sat in the hall.

Dad didn’t have a lot of friends, but told us he was always included by the other kids because he was a good athlete. He could play ball. His two favorite stories that made the paper – “Outside Home Run Hit Inside Ebbett’s Field”. He and his friends had been playing ball outside of the stadium. He had hit a home run and the ball landed inside the stadium. He said the worst thing was not being able to get the ball back – balls were an expensive commodity!

He played basketball at Yeshiva University and due to connections the coach had, the team had the opportunity to play a game at Madison Square Garden. That was a memory of a lifetime, an experience that also made the papers.

I always loved hearing of his YU experience – “most libraries are quiet. The noisiest place on our campus was the library – how can you study without debating the texts?”

1955 – 1965: Life changing years – Dad meets mom. He graduates YU with a Masters in Social Work. They get married. They spend summers working in Surprise Lake Camp. They move to the Bronx. They have a baby (me 😊).

1965 – 1975: Mom and Dad buy a house and we move to Rockland County – life is a bit full circle – this is where his family began, living on the farm. Dad is working as a social worker and school psychologist in the NJ school system. Dave is born. Family is everything to our father. Mom has shared how jealous the other women were – Dad got out of work at 3pm and he got to be home with his family having quality time, while their husbands were still at work.

A memory that stands out for me from that time – there’s a one-way tunnel not far from the house and whenever we would drive through it, Dad would reminisce about how when he was a kid, it was a tunnel for horses and carriages, not cars.

During this time, Dad enrolls in a Doctoral program at Fordham University, which changes the landscape of life a bit as it takes up more of his time.

1975 – 1985: Dad is finally Dr. Schwartz – he graduates Fordham with an Ed.D. I remember the pride he had, and how proud I felt, watching him graduate! Leading up to this, I remember long nights and weekends with Dad sitting at the dining table working on his dissertation and mom manually typing it on the typewriter. The care and the frustration they both had in getting it done and getting it right.

Now, in addition to working in the school system, Dad has added his private practice. As the practice grows, he is working later and later into the night, often not getting home until 11pm and midnight. His selfless dedication to provide for his family and help others was truly remarkable.

1985 – 1995: It’s business as usual. Dad is working long hours, is dedicated to the health and wellness of others, but most importantly is dedicated to putting both me and Dave through college. I was away most of this time between college and career choices that had me traveling, so my strongest memory of these years is of love and support.

1995 – 2005: Dad started to feel burnt out – “Can you imagine, when you work as a psychologist, not one single person that walks through your door is happy.” He couldn’t imagine not helping people, but the grind was getting to him. And that’s when HaShem (G-d) intervened yet again, and put Dr. Cheu in his path. Dad worked with Dr Cheu at UMDNJ on a study about the effects of acupressure on the hypothalamus. They did a clinical study on this, specifically focused on weight loss and in 1997, Accu Weight-Loss was born. Now dad had a retirement hobby – a way to continue to pay it forward, to help transform lives, without the (pardon the pun) heavy weight of being a therapist. He started it as a way to pass the time. A “shingle” outside his psychology office that said “weight loss”. As he resigned psychology patients, he would fill the hour with weight loss patients. And a miraculous thing happened – he started getting a line out his door. Word was spreading, and he was busy. He was making a difference.

During these years Dave got married. Dave and Randy had Matthew and Abigail. His pride in his growing family was unparalleled. Our father was not a demonstrative person, but his love for his family was always unquestionable. This new family expansion filled his heart beyond words. 

2005 – 2015: In 2005 I was blessed to join Dad in the business. Now the true beauty of what he was doing unfolded for me. He would share with me how this was our vehicle to spread Torah in the world. When you teach people to love themselves, they change their behavior. They become kinder to others. And ultimately this will help spread love and light in the world. We would have lengthy debates (ok shouting matches) at night on how to best serve our clients and help them achieve success, be their best selves. We would talk Torah, discuss the week’s parshat, and how would that fit into the message we were sharing with our clients. He always circled back to the story of Adam and Eve and why was the Aytzah Harah, the evil inclination, so strong. It was a concept that always perplexed him and he took it as a personal challenge to help people overcome.

In 2010, Ava came into our world. With me as a single parent, mom and dad were an integral part of this journey. From the minute he met her, Ava had my father wrapped around her little finger. She was his precious angel.

2015 – 2025.  The final 10. Although aging, Dad was so proud of how he looked so much younger than his age (although for some reason he would always tell people he was older than he was). He went to work 5 days a week. He had a positive outlook, and was enjoying life. He told me he planned to work until he turned 90, and then we would revisit it.

Ava and I moved in. The Pandemic happened. Then his accident – he went from working 5 days a week to sitting on a sofa in a neck brace. He needed to fulfill his sense of purpose so he talked to clients on the phone.

His surgery. His stroke. Learning to live with the frustration of a permanent impairment to his executive function, but still fighting to enjoy life and find purpose. He fought for that until the end.

Family, it always came back to family. When Dad was in rehab a few months ago, he started to have hallucinations and he was concerned he had another stroke (turns out it was a reaction to medication). While waiting for the transport to take him to the hospital, he smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him and he said “today is the best day ever”. I couldn’t imagine, as we are sitting there waiting for him to go to the hospital, how this could possibly be the best day, so I asked him. His response – “Look at this. My two children – not one, but both of you, took time out of your busy lives to be here with me on a Friday afternoon. And look at what good friends you are. Joe and I played ball and spent time together. We were brothers, but not really friends. It makes me so happy to see what good friends you are. This is the best day ever.”

These recent months have been some of the toughest of our lives, but as Dad pointed out, they also have given us one of the greatest gifts – each other.

Dad – You wanted to work until you were 90. It wasn’t quite the way you planned it, but working together you achieved that. You left a legacy. You changed countless lives.

I wanted to share some reactions from clients and colleagues on learning of his passing:

–         What an amazing man he was. I was fortunate to meet him in my lifetime.

–         Your dad was a very special person. His life’s work has impacted my life.

–         Your father was a gift to everyone who knew him.

–         Your dad was a great man!! I’m extremely fortunate to have met and know him.

–         I’m so sorry for OUR loss – he will never be forgotten.

–         Your father encouraged me to lose weight and he will be greatly missed.

–         I’m so sorry to hear about your father. He has had such a positive impact on so many people including myself. I remember being 177 and not being able to get the baby weight off and coming into your office. He enabled us to have a positive, healthy way to lose weight without any negative side effects. He left a permanent mark that is being carried on by you and we are forever grateful.

–         Dr. Schwartz is/was an amazing soul who will always be remembered.

–         Your father was a great soul and blessed so many people with his grace and wisdom. May his soul be at peace and may his journey with G-d in the heavens be a blessed one. I loved him.

I know this wasn’t as short as intended, but how do you shorten 90 years into a few words? Anyway, I’ve lived up to my reputation with him – Barbara you talk too much!

In conclusion, a final special memory. Every year, after we would get home from Kol Nidre (the evening service on Yom Kippur), our family would sit together and share the same silly stories and songs Dad had taught us. It was a tradition that grew, a tradition that continues. A tradition that gave him the greatest joy.

Piggy Wiggy and Fred. Jigsaw, the pony that was a puzzle. One Fine Day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight, back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other.

And family, please sing with me – Sweet Violets, sweeter than the roses, covered all over from head to toe, covered all over with sweet violets.

Dad we love you, always.