Honoring the Past, Living the Legacy
Welcome to Good Name Advisors. As I share on our “About” page, I believe in the power of philanthropy to preserve your good name. It’s not just a tagline—it’s personal.
I have so much I want to share with you about how I got here and what I hope to build in this next chapter. But a recent trip demands attention, so “the why” will have to wait until next time.
Memorial Day has just passed, as has the 80th anniversary of VE Day. You may know that my father was a Holocaust survivor, and nearly every major event in his life happened in the late spring. We were always aware of the season.
I’ve just returned from ceremonies at Mauthausen Concentration Camp, near Linz, Austria, marking 80 years since the end of World War II. It was my fourth time at the camp—my first three were with my father. A decade ago, our extended family promised him we’d return in 2025, knowing he likely wouldn’t be with us. He passed away nearly three years ago at the age of 90.
This time, I traveled with my brother, his youngest son, and my older daughter—two generations, together to honor our father and grandfather’s memory, thank the liberators, and reconnect with others tied to that place. (I wrote about our 2012 trip here)
The experience was different this time. We stayed in Vienna, which felt vibrant, diverse, and deeply intentional about remembering its past. The city had a civility that gave me pause. At a major food festival, for example, people paid a €5 deposit for a wine glass and returned it at the end to get their money back. It was so…respectful. In two days of wandering, we saw almost no visible signs of political tension—not even the ever-present anxiety so many of us feel these days as Jews in the public square.
The ceremonies at Mauthausen felt different too. The crowds were enormous. I often describe Mauthausen as a bookend to Auschwitz: where Auschwitz tells the Jewish tragedy of the Holocaust, Mauthausen represents the pan-European tragedy of World War II. We attended several commemorations, including those run by our generous hosts, the U.S. Embassy in Vienna, where we honored the liberators alongside American military leaders, Rabbi Abraham Cooper of the Simon Wiesenthal Center, and three survivors known as the “Miracles of Mauthausen”—people born at the camp near the war’s end and there to celebrate their 80th birthdays.
One ceremony paid tribute to the 11th Armored Division—the Thunderbolt—which liberated the camp. For our father, a Holocaust survivor and an American veteran, the United States was the country that gave him back his life. He implored us to thank veterans at every opportunity. We do.
Later, our family had the profound honor of holding a replica of the 56-star flag sewn in secret by prisoners hoping to welcome their American liberators—unable to remember exactly what Old Glory looked like, they added some stars. We wept. We expressed gratitude to the Embassy staff. And then we walked to the Israeli memorial, where hundreds of young people wrapped in Israeli flags sang HaTikvah, said Kaddish, and looked out onto the impossibly lush Austrian countryside. A landscape that once hid the unimaginable.
Finally, we joined the parade of nations, walking shoulder to shoulder with thousands, grouped by country, identity, or memory. It was hard to track the affiliations—but easy to feel the purpose: honor, remembrance, resolve.
I don’t know what configuration of our family will be there in 2035 for the 90th anniversary. But I know we’ll return. To maintain the bridge from past to present. To remind ourselves that my father’s good name and good life were not inevitable. That survival, and a legacy of meaning, were hard-earned.
At Good Name Advisors, I carry that story with me in every conversation. It shapes how I listen to people’s hopes, how I help them define what matters, and how we work together to build something lasting. Because a good name—like my father’s—isn’t just remembered. It’s earned, over a lifetime of values in action.
Let’s build yours.
Shabbat Shalom,
