Tess Liebersohn's Eulogy    

My father always said, �Tess�you can do three things when you turn 40: get a driver�s license, get married, and attend my funeral.� Even though he was 19 years early on the last event, I understand where he was coming from. He didn�t want me to grow up, but I did, with him as the perfect role model.

He used to say �Aren�t you embarrassed of me? Aren�t kids always embarrassed by their parents� shoes?� On the contrary, I was far from embarrassed of him or his shoes. In fact, I bragged about him all the time�his eccentric yet illustrious political career, his wit, his jokes, his knowledge of history, his ability to get into free artistic events, even the fact that he called me Tessticle Messticle.

I bragged about the fact that his serious heart surgery in 2005 didn�t stand a chance against his sheer will to get back to the better parts of his life�my mother, work, biking and the consumption of earthly pleasures in general. When I visited him in the hospital after the surgery, I didn�t know what to expect. I found my father, looking normal except for a new scar.  He was excited because his room had a huge window which overlooked the old Philadelphia Civic Center and he took great joy in watching it be torn down. He taught me that no matter where you are, there�s always something interesting to look at.

During my time in Pittsburgh , we spoke on the phone several times a week. It was usually when I was walking to class, so the conversations rarely lasted beyond 10 minutes yet I hung up every time with some new bit of information or advice. Our conversation topics were rather technical: taxes, cars, why the media is all lies, paranoia, and half-truths, and the proper way to load a dishwasher.  In our last conversation, we talked about how it was a beautiful day on both sides of the state.  We talked a lot in the too-short time I knew him. That�s why this was rather easy to write. He gave me so much material for love and appreciation.

Of my father�s many one-liners, one that has always stuck with me is �Wherever you go, there you are.� Like any soon-to-be graduate, I don�t exactly know where I�m going, but I know who I am. I am my father�s daughter. Max and I are the luckiest kids in the world to have called him Pop for as long as we did. We are works of Art.