Jeffery Weisburg was born September 12, 1939, 11 years after me. His father and mother were what would be called, “strict” Jews. From the time Jeff was an infant, he was carried or dragged to Temple Beth Israel every Sabbath (Saturday) for worship. Just about every other day there was something that brought him to the Temple.

No food was touched by his lips until it had first been blessed. And, that food had to be the right kind of food, and properly prepared. Prayers were sung at every occasion, and you can bet that bad elements were kept off the radio, TV, and any printed matter available to Jeff.

By the time Jeff had reached his 12^th birthday, he knew the faith and could advise others on scripture. He was, without doubt, far ahead of most kids his age, and it was thought that he should become a rabbi. For a while, Jeff worked toward that end. But, that was not to be, for Jeff was to become a doctor, a very good one.

In 1966, Jeff became a doctor of medicine, much younger than most. After his internship at Sequoia Hospital, he went back to school to study orthopedics. In 1972 he started as a resident at Peninsula Hospital, and in 1976 he became the chief of orthopedics at that hospital.

I had become a friend of Jeff in 1959 when he was a Naval Reservist, training on the ship I was on. I liked him and soon became friends with his family. (His mother is a great cook!) I soon realized that these people were not the same as “normal” people you meet on the street. First off, their compassion to those less fortunate than themselves was astounding. The pain of anyone, they felt and tried to relieve. It mattered none whether the other people were Jews or not, nor did it matter what race or religion they were. The Weisburgs were there to help in any way they could. Jeff, of course, was just the same.

Jeff married a Jewish lady and they purchased a plot of land up in the San Mateo hills, and built a house on it. I say they, mostly Jeff’s wife, since Jeff can’t hammer a nail without bending it.

Anytime I was in the area I would drop in and say hello. Jeff often called on me. I liked talking to him and certainly believe he liked to talk to me. We never discussed religion, for obvious reasons… But, we did talk about human and inspirational things.

One hot, sunny Sunday afternoon I went to Jeff’s house and we sat on the porch with a glass of iced tea, talking. He asked what I was doing out on a Sunday. I told him I had goofed on a job and had gone out to correct my mistake.

Jeff and I joked a lot and he said, “Well, Tom, all professionals make mistakes. Architects cover their mistakes with ivy. Young professional girls cover their mistakes with receiving blankets. Doctors cover their mistakes with sod.”

To poke a little fun at him, I asked, “Jeff, how many sod piles do you have?”

Jeff became quiet for a sew seconds, then said, “I know where you are coming from, Tom. You are thinking that if Jeffery killed someone, he could not live with it. I can not say this aloud, because I would not be able to practice medicine anymore, and that I really could not live with, but, Tom, I have sod piles. A number of them. I have to think of the hundreds of people out in the world who are happy, healthy, and very alive because I tried. On the other hand, if I had never tried, I would never have made a sod pile.”

I sat dumbfounded at the thought behind that great man’s words. How true!

I am reminded of something a Naval officer told his men about going into battle. “We must take a chance and pray for a good outcome in our favor. Remember the sand tortoise. If he sticks his out of his shell, a coyote may grab it and eat him up. He is safe as long as he stays inside his shell. But, that sand tortoise will go nowhere until he sticks his head out!”

Doctor Jeffery Weisburg was not afraid to stick his head out, and for doing so, hundreds of people are living happy and healthy lives.

Are you afraid to stick your head out?