Share Your Memory of
Allan
Obituary of Allan Lippman
Lippman, Allan
Henrietta: December 29, 2007 at age 68. Predeceased
by his parents, Marion & Isadore Lippman. Survived by his wife of 41 years, Susan; son, Jeremy; daughter & son-in-law, Rebekah & Douglas Watson; and the light of his life, grandsons Matt & Alex Watson; aunt & uncle Betty & David Cravetz; sister-in-law, Eileen Kleeberg, brother-in-law & sister-in-law, Jeffrey & Diane Zlotnick; many nieces, nephews, cousins and dear friends. His sense of humor, caring, compassion and zest for
life will be greatly missed. Funeral Services will be held on Monday, December 31, 2007
at 10 AM at Brighton Memorial Chapel (3325 Winton Road S).
Interment, Britton Road Cemetery. Click here for a map to
the funeral home. Following the funeral, a period of mourning will be
observed Monday 6-8 PM, Tuesday & Wednesday 2-4 &
7-9 PM at 164 Gatehouse Trail. Click here for a map
to the house of mourning. Donations may be made to either
Temple Beth Am General Fund
3249 E. Henrietta Road
Henrietta, New York 14467
Temple Beth Am
or
Lifespan of Greater Rochester Financial Services Fund
1900 S. Clinton Avenue
Rochester, New York 14618
Lifespan in his memory. Eulogy from Jeremy
ON BEHALF OF MYSELF AND OUR FAMILY I WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE FOR COMING TODAY. ALLAN LIPPMAN WAS A HUSBAND, FATHER, GRANDFATHER AND FRIEND. SOME OF YOU KNEW MY FATHER FOR JUST A SHORT TIME, OTHERS FOR YEARS. MY SISTER AND I …,WELL WE WERE FORTUNATE TO KNOW HIM OUR WHOLE LIFE. THERE ARE SO MANY STORIES AND THINGS I COULD SHARE WITH YOU ABOUT MY FATHER, SOME OF HIS STORIES, HIS BAD JOKES AND HIS ENERGY FOR FUN. STORIES ABOUT THE TUNA SALAD IN HAWAII, HOW HE MET MY MOTHER, THE TRIP TO THE TORONTO DUMP, OUR FAMILY TRIPS TO CHICAGO TO NAME A FEW. BUT I WANT TO SHARE WITH YOU WHAT I LEARNED FROM MY FATHER. THERE ARE THREE THINGS THAT COME TO MIND. THE FIRST IS HOW DAD TREATED EVERYONE. DAD TREATED OTHERS AS HE WOULD WANT TO BE TREATED IN RETURN. DAD NEVER HAD A BAD WORD TO SAY ABOUT ANYONE. DAD ALWAYS SAW THE GOOD IN EVERYONE. SECOND WAS THAT DAD LIVED LIFE TO ITS FULLEST. THIS PAST YEAR
DAD WAS DIAGNOSED WITH CANCER. DAD NEVER WANTED TO KNOW A TIMEFRAME OR A DATE. HE LIVED EVERYDAY AND TREATED EVERYDAY AS A GIFT. I WOULD CALL AND TALK TO MY FATHER EVERY DAY. WHETHER IT WAS FOR 5 MINUTES OR 20 MINUTES, DAD WAS ALWAYS HAPPY TO TALK AND THAT I CALLED. I KNEW IT MEANT A LOT TO HIM. THE THIRD THING THAT I LEARNED FROM MY FATHER WAS THE IMPORTANCE
OF FAMILY. THERE WAS NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT TO DAD THAN FAMILY, BOTH HIS IMMEDIATE AND EXTEDED. DAD WAS PROUD IN EVERYTHING REBEKAH AND I DID. DAD WOULD ALWAYS ASK ME ABOUT MY DOG SACHA AND HOW SHE WAS DOING AS WELL WHEN WE TALKED. DAD WAS THERE THE
AY I PICKED HER OUT AND BROUGHT HER HOME. DAD WOULDN’T HESITATE TO TALK TO ANYONE ABOUT HIS FAMILY. AT THE END OF NOVEMBER I RECEIVED A CALL FROM MOM TO COME HOME. DAD WAS IN CRITICAL CONDITION AND DAD PROBABLY WOULDN’T BE THERE WHEN I GOT HOME. WELL DAD BEAT THE ODDS. DAD WAS THERE, AND I WAS
FORTUNATE TO HAVE SOME ADDITIONAL TIME WITH HIM. I WILL MISS MY FATHER. I AM VERY PROUD THAT HE IS MY FATHER. THESE ARE ONLY A FEW OF THE MANY LESSONS AND ALONG WITH COUNTLESS STORIES THAT I WILL TAKE WITH ME AND SHARE WITH MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY. DAD, MAY YOUR NEW JOURNEY BE A PEACEFUL ONE AND KNOW THAT I WILL
ALWAYS LOVE YOU. IN JEWISH TRADITION THERE IS A FAMILY BLESSING AND I THOUGHT IT WAS APPROPRIATE FOR TODAY:
MAY GOD BLESS YOU AND KEEP YOU. MAY GOD’S LIGHT SHINE UPON YOU AND MAY GOD BE GRACIOUS TO YOU. MAY YOU FEEL GODS PRESENCE WITHIN YOU
LWAYS AND MAY YOU FIND PEACE. Eulogy from Rebekah On behalf of my family, I would like to take this opportunity to
thank you all for coming today. It is a great tribute to my father
to see so many people here. In true Al Lippman fashion, I would like to begin with a story to
put a smile on your face! Tragically, three friends die in a car crash, and they find
themselves at the gates of heaven. Before entering, they are each
asked a question. “When you are in your casket and friends and family
are mourning upon you, what would you like to hear them say about you?”
asks the angel. The doctor says “I would like to hear them say that
I was a great doctor and a great family man.” The teacher says
“I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and a teacher
who inspired children.” The rabbi replied, “I would like to hear
them say, “Look! He’s moving!” I tell this story because it’s the kind of story that my father
would have told and because, even though we are here for my father’s
funeral, it is his life that seems so powerful and so present at
this moment. My father was a wonderful, caring man. His kindness, generosity and
sense of humor had an impact on every individual that he met! My father’s life was a life of Tzedaka, of righteousness and justice.
In Judaism, the mitzvah of Tzedaka, translated as “charity,” is
expanded into an even more noble category called G’Milut Chesed.
G’Milut Chesed, even greater than charity, is defined as “an act of
loving kindness”, an act such as spending time with the sick, cheering
up the depressed and being a friend to those who are lonely.. These
are acts of generosity completed without expecting anything in return. My father performed acts of G’Milut Chesed each day of his life.
Most of you know this kind of life my father lived, for you lived it
with him and you were blessed to share with him as he shared with you.
It is this life of “giving” to others that I know will grant him a
place in heaven. A Hasidic story with a supposed inside look at what happens upstairs
after death confirms my belief. A very rich but miserly man passed away and was standing in line
waiting to hear his final judgment. As he watched the procedure with
those in line before him, he became far less fearful. He noticed that
reported acts of charity had tremendous influence on the divine decree;
gifts given during one’s lifetime could outweigh many sins. And so,
when it was his turn to stand before the heavenly Judge, he said:
“It is true I may not have done all I should while I was on earth, but
permit me to take out my checkbook and write out very large sums for
any worthy institutions you recommend.” To which the Judge replied,
“Here, we do not accept checks. We only accept receipts.” My father was overflowing with receipts! My father’s life was marked by his ready acceptance of every person
he met. He had a way of making each person he met feel important.
He treated everyone with utmost respect regardless of who they were.
This is one of the many lessons that I have learned from my father
and reminds me of the following story called ‘life lessons.’ And the story goes, During my second month of college, our professor
gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed
through the questions until I read the last one:
‘What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?’
Surely, this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman
several times. She was tall, dark haired and in her 50’s, but how
would I know her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before
class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward
our quiz grade.
“Absolutely, said the professor. In your lifetime, you will meet
many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and
care, even if all you do is smile and say hello.” Each year, my father would visit Attica prison during December to
host a Hannukah party for the Jewish inmates. These individuals
pasts, were just that, their PAST. My father never allowed their
past to interfere with how he treated them. He always let them know
by his presence, his attention and his care, that each one of them
was significant. My father spent his entire life in Rochester. He worked as a banker
for many years. After retiring, he worked for Lifespan, a company
dedicated to providing information, guidance and services to help
older adults take on both the challenges and opportunities of longer
life. The job at Lifespan was extremely pleasing to him. He was very
satisfied knowing that he was helping so many people. Of all of the jobs my father did, the most gratifying was at an
elementary school, teaching children to understand finances.
He derived so much joy from this! I know because he would call
me and tell me all about the course, the students, and there was
so much excitement in his voice when he would talk about how the
children understood what he taught. He knew that these children would remember what he taught them
throughout their lives.
He was planting seeds for their future. There is a story in the Talmud about a Roman soldier who encounters
an elderly man planting a carob tree. Thinking the old man a fool,
the soldier dismounts and chides him saying, “Stupid man, it will be
seventy years before that tree bears fruit. You will be long dead
by then.” “I know,” replies the old man. “But this tree is not for
me, it is for my children and my grandchildren. Just as there were
trees for me when I was born in to the world, so do I plant trees
for those to come.” My father has successfully planted goodness in this world. His
goodness will continue to grow and bear fruit long after his earthly
activities have come to a close. My father was involved in many different organizations throughout his
lifetime, the Jay Lodge, Men In Transition, the Rochester Broadway
Theater League and the The Eastman Theater to name a few. Each added
an important element to his life. Although he was not able to carry
on at the same pace when he became ill, he made modifications so he
could still participate in this important part of his life. For example,
when he found it difficult to walk people to their seats as an usher
at the theater, he handed out headphones instead. He continued to be
involved as much as he possibly could.
My father was Devoted to taking care of others, his parents, his wife,
his children, his grandchildren and his friends. We are all so lucky
to have been touched by this amazing man. My father’s love for my mother was endless. He always used to say
that my mother made him “whole.” How wonderful to find such a true
lifetime partner. As a child, I sure gave my dad a run for his money. But, his belief
in me never wavered. The confidence my father had in me helped me believe that I could achieve
a dream that I had had for myself since the second grade and go to school
to become a Pharmacist, even though I did not have the same confidence in
myself. When I was having difficulty getting into a Pharmacy program,
my father called the Dean of the Pharmacy School at the University of
Connecticut where I had just applied. My father was so confident in my
abilities, that he somehow convinced the Dean to give me a chance. It is
that conversation that changed my life. I will never forget how he would
do whatever he could to help Jeremy and I succeed. Not only did he help
me enter into Pharmacy school, but he also exhibited a constant respect
and support of my profession when I entered the working world. I am ever indebted as he and my mom never gave up on me. In addition to his devotion to those around us, my father had a true
devotion to Judaism. He was instrumental to the Functioning of Temple
Beth Am, from working Bingo to maintaining peace within the walls of
the Synagogue. The work he did for Temple Beth Am was a labor of love.
He was committed to seeing the Temple succeed even in more difficult times.
Sadly, my father was diagnosed with cancer in January of this year. My
father faced this disease with courage and grace. Never once did he ask
“why me?”
At one time, I asked him how he was able to be so positive in light of
the situation at hand, and he quoted from the book Tuesday’s with Morrie.
"I have a choice and I choose to live.” Just after he was diagnosed we had a very powerful conversation.
I asked my father if he was mad? “no” He replied. I asked my father if
he was bitter? “no” he replied.
He said to me “I led a good life, I have no out-standing issues, I have
no one that I need to apologize to. I am content.”
When it is our time to return to our eternal resting place I hope that
each of us can have a similar response. My father made every moment count. He and I were talking a few months
ago and he said to me "I had an epiphany, 'life is not about monuments,
but moments.' It is not about our houses, our cars, our belongings,
but it is about special moments in our life."
I expanded it a bit and said the following back to him "dad, you are
right, life is not about monuments, but monumental moments."
I am so blessed to know this and to live this. I am so thankful for
these special moments. Moments like playing in the leaves with my kids,
or sitting on the couch with Doug watching a movie, or catching up with
an old friend. This is what life is about.
This is an everlasting gift that my father has left me!
During Sukkot, we read from the book of Kohellet, which counsels us on
one of the contradictions of that particular Jewish holiday.
The Book of Ecclesiastes teaches us that none of us will live forever,
but that the only appropriate response to our mortality is to enjoy our
food in gladness, and to drink our wine with joy; for all of us should
know that the all-knowing God approved our actions long ago. The text
tells us that we should enjoy happiness with those whom we love during
all of the days of our lives. For that alone, the text tells us, is
what we can get out of life. The passage concludes by advising us,
“What it is in your power to do, do with all your might.” On this day, which is also filled with so many contradictions and
contradictory emotions, as we sit in sadness recalling the joy of my
father’s life, let us remember that my father did everything in his
power, and he did it with all of his might.
I would like to close with a poem that my father and I both love.
We would often make reference to it in our every day conversation. It is called The Dash by Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years For the dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth. For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash. So think about this long and hard
Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged. If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel. And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while. So when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
On behalf of my mother, my brother and I, We ask as you leave
here today, not to mourn my father’s death, but to celebrate
his life, and to honor him by making your DASH count.
Home
Henrietta, New York
Birthplace
Rochester, New York