Dispatches from Good Name Advisors

I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—but I think a lot about the end of life. Not in a depressing way. In an empowering way.

It started about 10 years ago, when I read David Brooks’ The Road to Character, where he distinguishes between two kinds of qualities: those that belong on a résumé, and those spoken about in a eulogy. That framework stayed with me. And it helped me begin focusing on what I now know matters more to me: the eulogy virtues.

Over the past few months, I’ve written about causes that matter deeply to me—education, Israel, giving circles, good names. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to write about a quieter cause. A sacred one.

The beauty, grace, and power of Clover Hill Park Cemetery.

I joined the board nearly a decade ago, not entirely sure what to expect—or even why I was asked. What I found was a place where deep respect meets practical wisdom. A board and staff—led by board chair Gregg Orley and executive director Kim Raznik—who understand, in their bones, that we are giving voice to those who no longer have one, and providing peace—literal and spiritual—to those who deserve it.

Yes, we ensure that people are laid to rest with dignity. But it’s more than that.

We navigate tradition and halacha (Jewish law), today’s needs and sensitivities. We ask hard questions with compassion. We make space—for memory, for mourning, for ritual. And we plan for the future—ensuring the cemetery remains financially secure in perpetuity.

Increasingly, I’m drawn not only to how we honor the dead—but how we support the living as they navigate loss.

There is a growing movement of organizations and professionals who do this sacred work, offering comfort, community, and even joy. Geriatric social worker Karen Faith Gordon. Sarit Wishnevski and Kavod v’Nichum, building communities of care and connection. My old colleague Rabbi Melanie Levav (we were interns 30 years ago!) now leads Shomer Collective, reimagining our culture around death and dying.

And my newer friend Jill Mastrionni has built her life’s work around similar ideas—but earlier in the process. An estate attorney, she asks: What can I do today so that when I die, my family can mourn me—not drown in paperwork and stuff? Her website and podcast, Death Readiness, is a gentle, generous guide for exploring those answers.

I had the honor of being her most recent guest, talking about my dad—his Holocaust survival, and the legacy he left behind. It reminded me how much of this work—mine, hers, maybe yours—isn’t really about death at all.

It’s about life.

It’s about living with intention. About creating clarity instead of chaos. About making sure our stories don’t end with us.

At Clover Hill, that intention lives in every detail—from the conversations we hold, to the quiet beauty of the Davidson/Hermelin Chapel, to the Barnett Shiva Center we built to support Jewish mourning in today’s world. And with thoughtful professionals like Kim, Sarit, Karen, Melanie, and Jill—and volunteers like Gregg and so many others—we are in good hands.

Legacy. Commitment. Tradition.
These aren’t just lofty words. They’re what carry us—through grief, through memory, and back into life again.

🕯 Want to listen to my conversation with Jill? You can find the Death Readiness podcast here.

🕊 And if you’re wondering what your own legacy might look like—or how to start planning—I’d be honored to help.

Let’s talk about living well, giving with purpose, and making room for what matters most.

Shabbat Shalom,