Hear that stringed instrument? It’s a handcrafted hammered dulcimer. He’s likely practicing an Irish tune or a jig for his contra dance band. Or maybe he’s playing one of the many banjos displayed around his Long Island home, ready to teach you a folk song about bullfrogs or bottles of wine or the sunny side of life. He knows the lyrics to hundreds of them it seems, as he’s been singing since he was a young music counselor (“Bernie Banjo”) at Camp Arcady near Lake George, New York. That’s where he fell in love with Myrna, his wife and best friend of 50 years until she passed in 2012. [To hear Bernie play, click the arrow in the top right corner or visit the music section of the gallery.]

Here he comes upstairs to sort the mail. Everyone who knows him knows he’s kind and gentle and patient, but did you also know he likes things neat, organized, logical, and well documented? That’s partly why he was so good at his career as a high school math teacher and programming chairman in Queens, another borough over from Jerome Avenue in the Bronx where he grew up with his cherished older brother, Jerry. He was a skilled athlete back then, mostly known for being a graceful wrestling champion who competed in college all the way to nationals. Later, you might have seen him jogging around the neighborhood, hiking in the woods somewhere, or swimming at the Y, where he tried to go every day even into his 80s.

Has he made you laugh (or groan) yet with his made-up rhymes and clever puns? If he were writing this, it would sound like an Ogden Nash poem. Or maybe instead he’s been waxing philosophical or explaining his Humanist take on life or, more likely, telling you stories about his son, Eric, in Massachusetts, and his daughter, Amy, in Washington, D.C., beaming with pride. The best ditties and rhymes he saves to entertain his beloved grandchildren: Abbie (12), Calman (11), Eli (9), and Luke (6). How he loves them, boy.

It used to be he’d have to let the dog out (Bambi, then Sophie) before he could relax with a Sudoku puzzle or a pint of Blue Moon beer (with a wedge of orange), sharing good times with one or more of his longtime friends. (His deep, abiding friendships have always meant the world to him.) Years ago it was a plump hot dog and beans that excited him. The meal went hand-in-hand with his love of the outdoors and camping in the family pop-up trailer (and was always his birthday dinner of choice).

But now…well, now he’s done for the day and has decided it’s time to rest. He’s taken care of everything he needs to take care of. Perhaps most importantly, he’s taught his children by example—the very best example—how to be confident, genuine, generous adults with a healthy sense of humor, and loving and supportive parents. “All’s well,” he might say as he often did in an email to Amy and Eric before he would turn in for the night. All’s well.