This is the story of my father, Burt Berenstein. My dad has always loved hats. The one hat I’ve never seen my father wear (or even try) until recently was a yellow hard hat. Let me explain.
Last October, my father retired from 20 years in the giftware business. No one was too sure how he would occupy his days. There was talk of travel, riding horses, reading, long walks and playing with his three grandchildren, but who could be sure of talk?
Each year at Rosh Hashanah services, Peninsula Temple Beth El in San Mateo offers a little booklet called “To Make A Difference,” which outlines volunteer opportunities for the upcoming year. My dad skimmed through the book and stopped at the one titled “Habitat for Humanity.”
If you know my dad, you know that he is a man of few tools and few projects. Sure, he could change a light bulb and handle minor home repairs, but it was not my father remodeling the bathroom or repairing the sink throughout my childhood years.
So off he went, hard hat in hand, on the designated Thursday. My family placed bets at to what time we thought he would “call it a day.” What could Burt possibly do at a construction site? Sweep the saw dust?
At 4:30 that afternoon, my father came home, sore but grinning. He loved every minute of the day. Instead of participating for the designated one day through the temple, my father signed on for the duration. The first house he helped build is complete. He has eagerly moved on to No. 2. He comes home tired, sore and dirty each week, but proud as he can be of what he is doing to help others.