4.2.12 WC: 191694 galleries. Their exposure to culture was limited to things Jewish—cantorial recitations, Yiddish theater, lectures by Orthodox rabbis, Jewish museums, Catskill Mountain and Miami Beach entertainment. My adult life has been dramatically different. I travel the globe, meet with world leaders, own a nice art collection, am deeply involved in the world of music, theater and other forms of culture, and lead a largely secular life (though I too enjoy cantorial music “borsht belt” humor, and a good pastrami sandwich). Yet I am their son and grandson. Although my life has taken a very different course—both personally and professionally—I could not begin to explain who I am, how I got to be who I am, and where I am heading, without exploring my family background and heritage. It is this history that helped to form me, that caused me to react against parts of it, and—most important—that gave me the tools necessary to choose which aspects of my traditions to accept and which to reject.” I had a very powerful upbringing, having been born to a family with strong views on religion, morality, politics and community service. My neighborhood was tight knit. Everyone had a place and knew their place. Status was important, especially for our parents and grandparents, as was “yichus” (the Yiddish term for ancestry). But I grew up at a time of change, growth, excitement and opportunity. Despite the reality of pervasive anti-Jewish discrimination—in college admission, employment, residency and social clubs—my generation believed there were no limits to what we could accomplish. If Jackie Robinson could play second base for the Brooklyn Dodgers, we could do anything. Maybe that was the reason so many successful people grew up in Brooklyn in the immediate post-war period. (In 1971, I was selected among 40 young scholars from around the country for a distinguished fellowship. When we met in Palo Alto, California, we discovered close to half the group had Brooklyn roots!) W