My Father, Sidney Liebowitz Had Unique Talents

He was also gifted in other ways. On a shelf in our home sat a model airplane made of balsa wood. Painted blue and gray, it had an unusual triangular shape. There, in my room all the time, was essentially the prototype for the stealth bomber.

My dad also pursued lapidary work (the art of cutting, shaping, and polishing stones, minerals, and gemstones into jewelry or decorative items) and silversmithing. His exquisite jewelry—bolos, rings, and other pieces—were things the neighbors would admire. A generous man, he gave away many of his creations. In my apartment, a wooden box holds an elegant bolo that I wear on special occasions. On the back of the silver are the initials “S.L.,” which stand for Sidney Liebowitz, but also for “Silver Leaf.” Dad adopted this name much like a writer uses a pen name. He respected Native American traditions and became, in a sense, a Jewish cowboy.

My father also had strong street smarts. My mother, Rhonda, and I often turned to him for advice on everything, and ninety-nine percent of the time he was right. He was frequently correct about politics as well. In the spring of 2003, Dad dictated a letter of advice to President Bush, urging him to keep U.S. troops at home to guard the borders and not invade Iraq. To our surprise and joy, the president responded immediately. That framed letter now hangs on my mother’s dining room wall. In our view, President Bush should have taken my dad’s advice.