About six or seven years ago, on a weekday Mincha, I noted a visitor. A man in his early 40s, he looked like he had stepped out of an Italian fashion magazine. His clothing was not loud – and very neat – but in modern styles and colors (a different combination each day). Even the shoes matched. I really liked this; it was such a refreshing statement coming from a man whose heart stayed firmly on the path. We soon became friends; I even followed suit (literally) and bumped up my own appearance.
David Kaye, a”h, was different from anyone I knew. A mid-life baal teshuva, he let nothing get in the way of his growing love for a non-compromised Judaism, and his outer presentation was but a reflection of his outstanding character traits and rich inner life. Although his niche in the world of high-fashion menswear was challenging for one seeking a more holy life, he was never swayed from pursuing the truth.
David had a natural love for quality clothing. He knew how to size up the perfect suit for a man. Among his many clients were professional athletes, especially football players. To serve them, he had to navigate the invitations to their parties, where they liked to show off their fame and their newfound rags-to-riches lifestyle. But David made the boundaries clear. They came to know him as their “Jewish tailor”: Sabbath observant and morally directed. They knew he was different and respected that.
David befriended many people in the community. On certain occasions – bar mitzvas and the like – his generosity was expressed through the gift of a custom-made shirt, which would elicit proud smiles from the recipient. His donation of his own stylish suits excited the clothing-conscious boys of nearby yeshivas. There were many other acts of generosity, which always showed an awareness of what those who were less fortunate would appreciate.
It could not have been easy for David to be immersed in a community centered on family, yet all of us who were close to him vividly remember his love for our entire families. None of us ever met a person like him. Your children could be irreligious, deeply yeshivish, or anything in-between; he fully and cheerfully related to all of them, and they loved to see and have him around.
One attendee at our shul said, “David was close to my son. Whenever the yeshiva had a campaign my son could rely on David to help out. When he heard that my son was running a cookie baking business, he spoke to him about how to run a business, how to charge for his merchandise, and when would be the best time to sell – because he cared.”
Having David for Shabbos was a treat for everyone: full of divrei Torah, wide ranging discussions, and enthusiastic zemiros. He always had an intriguing dvar Torah on the parsha. He loved to share it, and we loved to hear it. With his love of singing, he would even give some of his hosts a CD ahead of time, to learn some of his favorite nigunim.
David and I went to early Shabbos Mincha together for about two years, until it was time for him to move. I really loved that weekly one-on-one, which added a dimension to Shabbos as well as to our friendship. Although Torah and halacha were at the center of our conversations, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t talk to him about that didn’t elicit a passionate response. David appreciated life. He fully grasped the excitement of sports, music, and anything current, and if that’s where the discussion went, he participated fully.
David was very proud of and took good care of his two daughters living in a different state. They came from his marriage well before he would dream of only marrying a Jew. He remained a fully-engaged, loving, and supportive father, despite the different path he was forging for himself.
As he grew in his Judaism, David’s learning strengthened. As a relative beginner, it meant slogging through ArtScroll, and consistently going to Daf Yomi shiurim, even as he moved to different cities. But he put his heart and mind to it, and about a year-and-a-half ago he made a siyum on Shas.
David introduced his good friends to different avenues to pursue their learning, including a website that delivered mishnayos daily, which he was well on his way to completing. If he heard a good vort, he would take the time to call or text friends and share the excitement of the insight. It was another, but not the only, way that he kept up with his many friends. Whenever his travels brought him close to Baltimore, David would show up on a motzei Shabbos or Sunday afternoon, and you were in for a treat. All of us were made to feel like special lifetime friends, which we absolutely were to him.
At a certain point in his spiritual growth, David realized he needed his very own rav. How many of us actually try to fulfill “Knei lecha rav – earn/buy/acquire a rav”? He sought and sought, and when he recognized the rabbi (online) who spoke to his heart, he called him up and said, “You’re my rav.” He was a very well-known rav in New York, and in spite of the rav’s busy schedule, he arranged to meet with him multiple times, and even sat at the rav’s Shabbos table. But how impressive is this? The rav became his rav, a real mentor and his personal address for guidance.
How could such a special man – such a fine-looking, health-conscious, energetic, and forever-youthful man, so well-dressed, so loving, and such a good friend – be gone so suddenly, without ever getting old and without even leaving a local shiva for us to attend?*
All the people we meet affect our lives. David Kaye’s contribution to my own life and that of my family is something I feel in full measure. My family is crestfallen. Along with all of his friends, we remain with the sorrow of a gap that can never be refilled.
Our tradition makes it clear that we will be brought back to life one day. Although that’s an abstract idea, this is one time I have to say that it is at least an intellectual comfort. I can look forward to the time when I will once again have my good friend back.
David, your memory should never be forgotten, and should be a blessing for all who had the great privilege to know you. Your immediate family should be able to find the strength to move forward, with the knowledge that your deep goodness touched many lives and can never be extinguished from our hearts.
* Sadly, David passed on unexpectedly after a work-out.
