My Third-grade rabbi told me he wanted to strangle me. Both my fifth- and sixth-grade teachers called me an idiot. “Mark, I know that there is a brain in there somewhere. Please find it and use it.”
My mother told me she didn’t know what to do with me. “We know you’re not stupid, so why do you act like you are?”
Because of the way I acted out, my formal education was minimal. By sixth grade, I had washed my hands of school, and they, in turn, washed theirs of me. I was disruptive and refused to do the work.
But at 12 years old, two things happened to change my life. My parents took me to The Boulevard Night Club in Queens, NY, where I saw Rodney Dangerfield perform. That was the night I decided to become a comedian. Also, at 12 years old, I started to write plays. All I remember about my first play is a pregnant woman who fell down a flight of stairs. A few years later, I became a Greenwich Village “poet.”.
Except for my lousy poetry, I’ve succeeded at comedy and playwriting. I’ve also written for a few TV shows surrounded by Harvard graduates. But despite those successes, a part of me still took to heart what the world told me: that I was an idiot. Deep down, a small but very much alive part of me still thinks this is true. It’s tough to shake those early labels.
Let’s now jump ahead to the Jewish Journal. The editor before David Suissa called me sometime around 2001 to review a book called “The Haunted Smile” by Lawrence J. Epstein. It was about the history of Jewish comedians in America—a book that is well worth reading to this day. That was a subject I knew something about, so I wrote it. They published it, and I may have written one or two more things for him, but I did not take writing for the paper seriously.
After all, with my sixth-grade education, what right did I have to think I was qualified to write for one of the best—if not the best—Jewish newspaper in the country?
Then, one day, the new editor, David Suissa called me to tell me he had read a heartfelt story about my relationship with my father and how that story changed his life and turned him to writing. That may have been one of the most important things anyone has ever said to me. Not entirely, but almost, it erased the decades of feeling that I was stupid. He did something no therapist was ever able to do. He told me that I wrote from the heart.
When a person talks to another person, they have two choices: empower or diminish them. David empowered me and has been doing so ever since.
For many years now, I have been a writer for the Jewish Journal, and it is by far one of the things I am most proud of. David single-handedly has given me—and many other writers—this chance. Except for one article I wrote about running over and killing a bird, he has published everything I’ve written. And because he gave me a chance, I was able to publish my book, “Why Not: Lessons on Comedy, Courage, and Chutzpah.”
The Jewish Journal has not only given so many people a chance to write and become better writers, but it’s also been a lifeline to the Jewish community. We depend on the Journal to be there, especially on Shabbos.
But of course, it’s not cheap to produce, print and distribute this amazing paper—for free!
So now they’re giving all of us a chance to give back by making an annual contribution AND receiving it at home. Such a deal.
They have lifted us all for many years; it’s our turn to give back. That is why I’m making a contribution today, and will now get my favorite paper at home.
The Journal gave a kid who, at one time, the world had washed their hands of a chance. For a writer to have the open forum I’ve had is a blessing.
Thank you to David and the whole team at the Journal, thank you to all the great writers and the fans of the Jewish Journal.
Am Yisrael Chai.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
