Harry Benjamin Rosenberg – Remembering Dad

Dad was a remarkable self-made guy. To those who knew him he was Harry Benjamin Rosenberg, civil engineer, international water expert, shul president, great bridge player, avid golfer, university lecturer, knowledgeable in practically every area, and an all-round brilliant person.

But to us he was Dad, Daddy, Dad-zee, Pops, Popsy, Daddy-o, Herscheleh, Zaydie and Saba to ten ayneklach, grandchildren, and more recently saba-raba, i.e.,  great grandfather to four great grandchildren whom he didn’t get to meet.

Dad was our compass. He taught us the meaning of integrity, of good citizenship, of hard work, not by talking about it, but by being a role model himself. Dad taught us to stick up for the underdog, to be kind to others, by doing it himself. I remember as a young child Dad introducing me to the elderly elevator man in the government building where he worked. Dad always would say hello to him and ask him how he was. He explained to me “You should always treat people with respect. You would never know it, but in the nineteen-twenties this man was a star hockey player for the Ottawa Senators”.

Dad taught us by example.  He taught us to stand up for what is right, not what is expedient. He taught us to value human values over financial gain and power. Because he did. Dad would say “If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, don’t say anything”, and adhere to the adage. Dad would tell us “Look in your own plate”. He was never jealous of others, didn’t denigrate or ridicule other people.  We learned from his example.

Dad was brilliant. He was a walking Google and Wikipedia fifty years before the internet. He was always learning. He completed his master’s degree with four young kids in the house, prepared university lectures over the weekends, he became fluent in French in his thirties and forties and then Hebrew in his fifties and sixties.  So we learned the importance of education and lifelong learning.

With all these positive attributes, Dad was a very modest man. He wouldn’t complain about himself. He had Parkinsons’ for over twenty years, his health went slowly downhill, and he never complained. He even went on working as long as he could.

Dad, you were almost ninety years old, yet for us your departure this week was so sudden and unexpected. You left abruptly, modestly, in silence. You have gone and we have lost our leader, our compass. But your legacy will live on in our hearts and deeds. Love you, Pops.