I met Mrs. Rosenblum in Florida, and it felt like time folding in on itself.
I usually don’t ask to visit people when I’m traveling anymore. Years ago, I was in town for a conference and a ballgame and reached out to a high school friend — a girl I thought I was close to. She blew me off without a second thought. That moment stayed with me. Since then, I’m careful. Not hesitant to reconnect, just unwilling to impose. I don’t assume my presence is wanted.
This trip wasn’t for business. It was just travel. When her son Jon told me I should go see her — she lived near Fort Lauderdale — I didn’t hesitate. I just didn’t want to intrude. Once I knew it was welcome, I went. I’m grateful I did.
We spent two hours talking. Real conversation. About life. About the day school. About East Midwood Jewish Center. About shared moments and shared people — the kind that quietly shape you long before you know who you’re going to become.
I reminded her about a prediction.
Back in the third grade, she knew I would become a lawyer. This was the same time my mother insisted I would be a doctor. The difference is that Mrs. Rosenblum actually saw me. She understood how I thought, how I argued, how I questioned. In some ways, she knew me better than my own family did at that age.
And the truth is this: outside of my grandparents and my Uncle Jack, no one had a more positive effect on my life as a kid than Mrs. Rosenblum. Not because she was family — but because she cared, paid attention, and believed in me before there was anything to prove.
We like to think family relationships always matter most. Sometimes they do. Sometimes it’s the teacher, the mentor, the adult who showed up — who leaves the deeper mark.
This wasn’t nostalgia. It was recognition.
Full circle isn’t about going back. It’s about finally understanding who helped put you on the path.
