"God don't make them any better. And that's a fact." So said Brigadier General Lewis Armistead of Major General Winfield Hancock in the film Gettysburg. Of all the words in all the literature I have read, these are the ones that come to mind upon the passing of my friend, Yosef Cohen. They come to mind quickly in association with him, for I have said them often over the years when speaking of him to others.
In 2012, Yosef, or Yossi as so many knew him, was honored by the Bureau of Jewish Education. If you consider yourself my friend, take fewer than five minutes to watch this video about him on the occasion of that most deserved recognition.
In that video you get a sense of who he was as an educator, and but as his colleague who for many years taught in the room next to his at North Central High School in Indianapolis, I was blessed by something more, but let us start with educator.
As a teacher of Latin and occasionally Greek, I sometimes had questions about Hebrew, for that ancient language so often was intertwined with those of my discipline, Classics. The moment I even began to ask him a question, Yosef would suggest that we meet over lunch. We each brought out our lexicons, and the richest, headiest of conversations would begin, allowing me in a small way to count myself as one of his students.
He was also my interlocutor on matters of politics, the economy, education, world issues, and history. Our conversations during passing periods made me want to be late for my own classes so the discussions with Yosef could continue. He thought deeply and broadly, and this allowed him to bring civility to our conversations the like of which many would think was no longer possible. With his passing, it very well may not be.
He played a paternal role for me as well, often pointing to his grey hair and my lack of it, perhaps being willfully blind to the increasing salt in the pepper of my beard. He cared for my wife and my children, asking about them after we returned from every school break and especially after summer vacation, and was genuinely concerned about my future. His advice was always sage, and it always, always aligned exactly with whatever my wife would say. I sometimes wondered if they talked behind my back so their counsel would agree.
His humor was legendary, and I rarely took my leave of him without hearing a new joke from his seemingly endless treasury. He lightened our department meetings with that humor and reminded us all that as important as teaching was, the business of schooling...well, not so much.
Children often have their heroes, real or imagined, that they delight in imitating, but it is rare for an adult to have, or at least to admit to having, such a model. My wife can testify that I have said many times over the years that I would like to be more like Yosef Cohen when I grow up, and in this I know I am far from alone.
