On May 22, 2016, my father, Marty Rochkind, passed away. My Dad lived a full life — 73 years and ~10 months; 26,965 days, sunrises and sunsets. He achieved everything that you want in life — married the love of his life and created a beautiful family with my two sisters and me. He started life as a butcher in his father's grocery shop and later became a MetLife insurance agent, started an insurance partnership and then built an amazing business at IMC from scratch with no capital and only a high school diploma. But most of all, he was a dreamer and always wanted his children to pursue their highest aspirations.
In the Jewish religion when a parent dies, the children are expected to continue to honor their parent after their deaths — traditionally done by reciting kaddish on the Yarzheit (anniversary of the parent's death), and by donating charity in memory of the parent. As those who have lost a parent know, it is very rare for a day to go by without having a thought or memory come to mind. Some days the feelings are those of sadness, but many are filled with joy and happiness. Sometimes I just chuckle or outright laugh about how unique Marty Rochkind was. It is even how he proclaimed himself on his first date with my mother: "Hi, I'm Marty Rochkind and I am a nut." 😊
"That was where he was at his finest. It was where he could be himself, turn off the pressures and demands of everyday life and just immerse himself in the game and atmosphere in the ballpark."
Many were lucky enough to attend a baseball game together with Marty. Whenever you attended a game with Dad, he spent hours in the ballpark watching the game, walking around the stadium to see different views, getting the feel for the surroundings, and even talking to the groundskeeper and attempting to go on the field to touch the grass and feel the dirt. To capture that same spirit, at our father's funeral, we poured dirt from the field at Nationals Park and from the mound at AT&T Park in SF, and sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."
When I moved back from Israel in July 2002 and was transitioning from Morgan Stanley to join General Atlantic, we spent a week together visiting baseball stadiums in the Midwest — from Comerica Park in Detroit to Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park in Chicago, and Miller Field in Milwaukee. At the end of our trip, we came to one of the closest things to heaven on earth. I can still see my Dad beaming on that field in the summer evening sunset over the cornfields of Iowa as we played catch together on the Field of Dreams.
"I can think of no better way to honor my father than to host friends and family to watch a baseball game together."
So, here's to you, Dad, our favorite Southpaw. L'chaim and may you rest in peace and always hear and feel the sound, smell and atmosphere of the ballpark. In your honor and memory, we will keep swinging and building our Field of Dreams. Love you, Dad!
