Apologies Can Be Part of the Deal
I have in the past written in praise of thanking those in your life whom you may have under-thanked. Now let’s go one step further. Many of us have relationships that have soured. Before the “souring” there was much in the relationship to be thankful for, but then something happened and estrangement set in. It’s possible to sweeten what has soured, and I’ve experienced this both as the party who was wronged in a relationship and also as the party who did wrong.
I became friends with Benjy Rosenberg when he and I were 16-year-old bunkmates at Camp Oren. Our relationship deepened during the first half of 1979, when he and I were roommates in an Israeli yeshiva program—in lieu of the final semester at our respective Brooklyn Jewish high schools. I returned to the U.S. that summer to begin my freshman year at Columbia, and Benjy elected to stay on at the yeshiva. During that first college semester, I taped a music program that I thought Benjy would like, and I mailed the cassette to him in Israel. Weeks went by and I heard nothing from Benjy. Eventually I learned that Benjy had cut his stay in Israel short, and by the time I had mailed the cassette he was already back in New York. Somehow or other I managed to get over my hurt at his ignoring me, and our friendship limped along for the next few years. Flash forward to early 1988. I was up from Atlanta, visiting my parents with my infant son Nathan. Ben came over to see me; on the way out he noticed an attractive picture of my sister Jessica. He expressed interest; I told Ben that I would ask Jessica if she would be open to a call from him. Jessica said yes, I gave Ben the green light to call her, and then: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Months went by and Ben did not call. I finally told Jessica (based on my previous experience) that if she and Ben were ever to speak, she would have to be the one to make the phone call. The first thing that Jessica said when she got Ben on the phone was: “My brother says that you are an a—ole about calling.” Jessica and Ben recently celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary. They have three children and five grandchildren.
Here’s the story where I was in the wrong: For most of my time living in Givat Ze’ev, I regularly played clarinet duets with Tammy Rosenbaum.
During our times together, we tried to stick to the music as much as possible and stay away from politics and religion. We did not always succeed, and I came away from one of our sessions feeling that Tammy had been unduly critical of religious people. So I sent her an email criticizing her and her family’s way of life. Tammy did not respond to my email. As a few days passed, and then a few weeks, I thought: “Well, Teddy, you stepped way over the line and now your duet days are over.” But then one evening I get a telephone call. It was Tammy, and the first thing she said to me was: “I think you owe me an apology.” I told her that I couldn’t agree with her more, and I sincerely apologized for my hurtful email. And we started playing clarinet duets again.
Dear Reader: If there is a person in your life whom you feel owes you an apology, now is the time to stop waiting for them to contact you! My friend Tammy would still be waiting for my apology had she not called me, and Ben routinely tells me that he is “eternally grateful” for encouraging Jessica to call him. Just pick up the phone, contact your former friend, and give them a chance to apologize for what offended you. You have nothing to lose. After all, the close friendship that once existed between you and the other person is no longer there. Yes, it might very well be the case that you will not receive an apology and that you and your former friend will continue on in your separate ways. But it could be that because of your call your friendship is renewed, and once it is renewed there will be ample opportunity for thanking your friend for all the good that they have done for you over the years. Happy Thanksgiving!
Teddy Weinberger is a contributing writer to Jlife magazine. He made aliyah with his family in 1997 from Miami, where he was an assistant professor of religious studies. Teddy and his wife, Sarah Jane Ross, have five children.
