When I was 17, my father, an astute man, suggested that I visit the Jewish Vocational Service.  I underwent a battery of tests and in a few weeks, I returned for the results, eager to find out the field, probably fields – plural – in which I would excel.  I was pretty sure, that no matter how high my scores, I couldn’t be forced to go into neurosurgery or theoretical physics.  The counselor arrived, looked at my report and winced.  He described me as being “percentile – impaired” and hoped there was a family business I could enter.

It turned out to be sage advice, because I joined my Dad in the pharmacies and as a result, Margo and I have been given the opportunity and honor to make this gift today.