The Longest Ride(2)
I also want to thank Saul Benjamin, the Headmaster at The Epiphany School of Global Studies, a school that my wife and I founded in 2006. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll take the school to new heights as it moves toward the future. Of course, he couldn’t do that without the help of David Wang, the Assistant Headmaster, and I’d like to take a moment to thank David as well.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank Jason Richman and Pete Knapp, neither of whom work directly for me but nonetheless find themselves working on my behalf anyway. Thank you both for all you do.
Rachel Bressler and Alex Greene also deserve my thanks for helping to keep the wheels turning smoothly when it comes to the Novel Learning Series and all things contract related, which can be a never-ending task.
Micah Sparks, my brother, also deserves my heartfelt thanks not only for being the best brother a guy can have, but for all the effort, hard work, and vision he has brought to the Novel Learning Series.
Emily Griffin, Sara Weiss, and Sonya Cheuse at Grand Central also deserve my thanks for all they do. Emily helps to guide a project near and dear to my heart, Sara handles an amazing workload at GCP on my behalf, while Sonya is a fantastic publicist in charge of my book tours.
Thanks also to Tracey Lorentzen, the Director of the New Bern office of my foundation, and to Tia Scott for all things assistant related. She keeps my life running smoothly, which is no easy matter. Finally, many thanks to Jeannie Armentrout for all she does at the house.
I must also thank Andrew Sommers, who does so much for me in yet another complex and critically important area of my life.
Pam Pope and Oscara Stevick, my accountants, are wonderful at what they do, and I’m thankful to consider them part of my team.
Courtenay Valenti and Greg Silverman at Warner Bros. feel like family to me after all these years, and I hope to work with both of you again.
Ryan Kavanaugh, Tucker Tooley, Robbie Brenner, and Terry Curtin at Relativity deserve my thanks for the terrific work they did on Safe Haven, and I’m looking forward to working with all of you very soon! We make a wonderful team.
Many thanks to Elizabeth Gabler and Erin Siminoff at Fox 2000 for agreeing to make the film version of The Longest Ride. I’m excited to be working with both of you.
David Buchalter, who helps to arrange all my speeches, also deserves my thanks. I appreciate all you do.
Todd and Kari Wagner also deserve my thanks for what they did – I trust they know what I’m talking about.
And finally, thanks to friends new and old who’ve added much joy and laughter to my life, including Drew and Brittany Brees, Jennifer Romanello, Chelsea Kane, Gretchen Rossi, Slade Smiley, Josh Duhamel, and Julianne Hough.
1
Early February 2011
Ira
I
sometimes think to myself that I’m the last of my kind.
My name is Ira Levinson. I’m a southerner and a Jew, and equally proud to have been called both at one time or another. I’m also an old man. I was born in 1920, the year that alcohol was outlawed and women were given the right to vote, and I often wondered if that was the reason my life turned out the way it did. I’ve never been a drinker, after all, and the woman I married stood in line to cast a ballot for Roosevelt as soon as she reached the appropriate age, so it would be easy to imagine that the year of my birth somehow ordained it all.
My father would have scoffed at the notion. He was a man who believed in rules. “Ira,” he would say to me when I was young and working with him in the haberdashery, “let me tell you something you should never do,” and then he would tell me. His Rules for Life, he called them, and I grew up hearing my father’s rules on just about everything. Some of what he told me was moral in nature, rooted in the teachings of the Talmud; and they were probably the same things most parents said to their children. I was told that I should never lie or cheat or steal, for instance, but my father – a sometimes Jew, he called himself back then – was far more likely to focus on the practical. Never go out in the rain without a hat, he would tell me. Never touch a stove burner, on the off chance it still might be hot. I was warned that I should never count the money in my wallet in public, or buy jewelry from a man on the street, no matter how good the deal might seem. On and on they went, these nevers, but despite their random nature, I found myself following almost every one, perhaps because I wanted never to disappoint my father. His voice, even now, follows me everywhere on this longest of rides, this thing called life.
Similarly, I was often told what I should do. He expected honesty and integrity in all aspects of life, but I was also told to hold doors for women and children, to shake hands with a firm grip, to remember people’s names, and to always give the customer a little more than expected. His rules, I came to realize, not only were the basis of a philosophy that had served him well, but said everything about who he was. Because he believed in honesty and integrity, my father believed that others did as well. He believed in human decency and assumed others were just like him. He believed that most people, when given the choice, would do what was right, even when it was hard, and he believed that good almost always triumphed over evil. He wasn’t naive, though. “Trust people,” he would tell me, “until they give you a reason not to. And then never turn your back.”