On the floor of the 1984 Presidential convention, Gary was caught snoozing on the shoulder of his wife Rita.

Rita, Rita, Gary’s Wife, what would he do with out her?
Gary is not an ordinary man. When I married Gary, a school teacher, so many years ago, I never imagined the journey we would take together. The steps along the way, to say the least, have been exciting, sometimes challenging and always interesting.

What can I say about a man who thinks that soy sauce sprinkled on rye bread is wholesome and who can’t pass a garage sale without braking or thinks that supermarket shopping should be an olympic event?

What can I say about a man who’s mission, both in public and private life, has always been to help others and who is passionate about his principles and is steadfast in his determination to make our world a kinder and gentler place?

What can I say about a man who can spend hours in Home Depot comparing switch plates and whose collections of hats, fishing rods, carnation holders, tools,  autographs, campaign buttons and stamp albums, to name a few, forced us to buy a bigger house? Gary gives new meaning to the word “sprawl.”
 What can I say about a man who has filled my world with family and friendship, with smiles and flowers, with joy and with laughter?

 The answer can be summed up by simply saying — I love him.

It is difficult to put into words what you think should be obvious to everyone else. My father is the kind of person that people, including my family, happily and willingly gravitate toward. It has nothing to do with the fact that he is important, or that he is funny (if only sometimes). It has to do with the fact that his open heart and open mind are always feeling, listening, and thinking.

It is clear that he has become a better politician over the years. Experience will do that to a person. However, what my family and I try not to take for granted is that he has also become a better father, and since his starting point was “great,” it has been a pretty special ride for us.

His improvements as a politician and father have paralleled each other because the same qualities which make him a dedicated and terrific politician make him doubly terrific as a father.

He started his career as a teacher, a job that requires not only patience, understanding, and an ability to communicate ideas, but more importantly, the ability to make people want to think, analyze, and question the status quo for themselves. It has been over 30 years since he held a teaching post, but his mastery of these qualities has only improved.

To have a father with such qualities, combined with love and acceptance, have had a profound effect on me, and I am sure on the rest of my family as well. I am certain that these same attributes have had a similar effect on the people he serves. He has taught us to have open minds when it comes to choosing friends and spouses, and to try to recognize people’s similarities despite superficial differences. He has tried to stress to us the importance of individual rights, most recently with respect to freedom of speech.

Not only do his efforts in these areas make us immensely proud of him, but have also shaped our outlook on legal, political, and human issues. If more politicians and fathers were like my dad – passionate, open, and honest – we could go a long way as a county, and even further as being good as sons and daughters.

He is the best father, teacher, and friend a son could ever have.

Your dad is Gary Ackerman? You’re kidding!?”
When people I’ve met find out that you are my dad, they are astounded. I forget that not everyone is raised on political ground. I forget that not everyone knows someone who spends their days distinguishing between what is right and fair from all the rest.

I forget that not everyone grew up watching someone who champions causes, defends human rights, works for policy change, and day in and day out fights the good fight. I forget that people know you, recognize you, and see you differently from the way I do.

Because most of the time, to me, you’re just Dad. And it’s for all of the ordinary “Dad” things you do that I want to recognize here.

You helped teach me to tell time and to ride a bike. You let me raid your closet in the eighties when the craze was for girls to wear men’s button-down work shirts tied up at the waist. You helped teach me to drive a car and do my taxes. When I was home from college, you would stuff extra cash in my jacket pocket in case I needed to buy something on the drive up to school.

You go out of your way to make me vegetarian soup and then offer to bring it over to my house when I tell you I don’t have time to stop by to pick it up. You’re the one I call in a panic when I can’t figure out how to do stuff. You’ve always loved me unconditionally, and you welcomed my husband into our family with such an open heart. And if that wasn’t enough, you and Mom threw us the greatest wedding this tomboy could ever want!

I’ve always recognized the things you had to sacrifice in order to do your job well, Dad, and I can only hope you know how proud I am to be your daughter. I’ve always thought it was amazing that you had a job where you were able to help people no matter what their problems were. But the best part of you there is to know is that you’re always there to help me, and our family, when we need you most. You’ll always have all my love and support.

I got a call from someone today asking me to write a few words about my dad for a tribute to be published by the Queens Tribune.

At first, I was a bit hesitant for a number of reasons. The first was the enormity of the task. My father’s a giant. A man who from humble beginnings and against many odds forged a path that led to a series of unrivaled successes – a loving wife and family (which grows and flourishes), a comfortable home, even a pet (or four). His career has reached soaring heights, so much so that a Jewish boy growing up in Brooklyn a half-century ago would have dreamed it unfathomable.

But the guy asked me to talk more about Gary as a man, or as a father. After all, I am his youngest son. I haven’t seen my dad in some time, and he might be surprised to learn I feel this way, but he has not only been an inspiration to me, but a hero. Because of his position in government and his role in world politics, I didn’t get to spend the time with him growing up that a child hopes to with his father, but knowing him, I’ve learned volumes.
I learned to always find the courage to go after the things I want to achieve in life – to keep a steady course, an eye on the ball, and the commitment to follow through. Most importantly, he taught me to keep asking the questions that need answering and fighting the fights that need fighting.

And I think that’s the only way in which I’ll ever really fail my dad. I could never rival his wit and charm, his dedication or his talent. I don’t “champion causes” as he does, nor can I realistically hope to make even a fraction of the impact on the world as he has made.

But I’m OK with that, and anyone who feels about him as I do will agree. We can’t all be heroes. That’s why we have them.

What can I say about my exuberant, larger than life Uncle Gary?  The Uncle that lives in New York whom I consider a celebrity?  The uncle who chats with Howard Stern and is one of the US Congresspersons that Howard actually
likes!  The uncle that travels to far away lands and meets with very important people?

What can I say about the man that is brother to my father, who unconditionally adores, admires, and loves him beyond words?  The uncle that I often see on TV.  The guy that I call all my friends and family about when he is recognized in the media for his controversies and accomplishments.

The funny, loving uncle who is known to sleep on a boat in the ocean.

What can I say about my Uncle Gary?  I don’t know, I’ll have to think...

He’s my brother.”  I must have said that a million times growing up in Flushing.  I’d meet someone and they would hear my name was Ackerman and I’d get the question, ”Do you know Gary?” And I always said it with pride, still do.  “He’s my brother.”

My  brother, Gary, was everywhere when we were growing up; he knew just about everybody and everybody knew him. And he did it all.

He got involved with everything as a kid.  He worked at the Y, became director; he became an Eagle Scout; he was the director of Ten Mile River Boy Scout Camp in the summer; he was the founder and first president of a Queens College Houseplan (Playboy);  he was the editor of the Queens College Newspaper;  he was vice president of the Student Association; president of the senior class;  was involved in helping to desegregate schools in the south; helped in several NYC election campaigns.

And those are just some of the things that he did before he was old enough to vote that I remember as his little brother.
 As Gary’s only sibling I hate to say he has  always been terrific but that is the truth.  Boring, yes, but very true.  I can’t even say we have ever had an argument (other than if the window in our shared bedroom as kids should stay open or closed-he always won). And by the way , did I mention he is the funniest person I know?

And our parents couldn’t have been prouder of their oldest boy.  Our mother always called him “My Gary” and that probably was an omen of how others would see him because Gary has always been there for so many people: in our family, with his friends and with his community and country.

He’s passionate, informed, fun, invoved, open minded....he’s the best brother a person could have.