Follow Your Passion

It's hard to believe it's been 17 years since you crossed over the rainbow. I've come to love this expression, it's easier and sweeter than just saying "since you've been gone" or "since you passed away." I've also been grappling with how to write about my dad and convey who he was and what he meant to me. I guess what strikes me most about him is that he was someone who never did things half way and almost always followed his passion. And most often his passions became obsessions that then turned into businesses. My dad was a fascinating, complicated, brilliant man, who had so many interests it was hard to keep up with them or him! And whether we -- mom and I, liked it or not, we became part of these passionate pursuits of his.

He grew up on the Lower East Side of NYC, the oldest of 3 boys, first generation of a Polish immigrant family. My grandparents both came from tiny "shtetls" in Poland and settled in New York in the early part of the 20th Century. Dad learned to love music, art, jewelry and numismatics from his dad, a self-taught lover of the arts. Though grandma preferred that he work for the Post Office or some sort of Civil Servant job, dad's passion for music drove him to become a musician and later a teacher. At least he became a teacher I'm sure that's what grandma thought, because it was a good solid job. But why should he do anything that was considered traditional? Even his choice of instrument, the bassoon was unconventional! The first to go to college, he went on to go to the Manhattan School of Music and graduate and later go on to teach. But again why do anything that was conventional? Be a teacher, that's good, get married that's good, so how the heck did he take a detour and start dealing in Russian Numismatics? I never really understood that detour, but in between teaching gigs, he took a left turn and turned a coin passion he had into a new business. He told me stories of how he would go off to Germany and go to the auctions for coins. He'd start speaking Yiddish because he thought they'd understand him, -- it was close to German he thought, only to get yelled at by the auctioneers! "Mr. Kowalsky German, not Yiddish please!"