It’s quite possible that he discreetly helped a neighbor’s kid (or someone you know) out of a low-level legal jam.
But that’s just resume stuff.
The better measure is the way he dealt with those who loved him. Freedman was all in, whether he was getting way too excited about being near a cannon at Jack’s football games at Reynolds, Ariel following in his footsteps at UNC and the UNC School of Law, Gary performing a solo in Asheville or Chai following his passion to the UNC School of the Arts.
If Freedman’s children were interested, he was engrossed. And at the same time, if you were his friend, he knew where your kids went to school, their names and where their interests lay.
In this line of work, we’re encouraged to keep a distance between the professional and the personal, and to keep at arm’s length those about whom you may one day report.
But this is Winston-Salem, and at heart, we’re a small town. The dam for decorum broke Friday when the phone rang with news of David’s passing.
In this one instance, I didn’t need strangers to tell me that he was a mensch — Yiddish for stand-up guy.
Our sons played on the same soccer team too many years ago, and we wound up spending too much time standing around a bench press at the Central Y weight room and not nearly enough near leg machines.