In Loving Memory of Elan Ganeles ZK"L

The most interesting man in the world

Today, we buried my friend Elan.

Exactly a week ago, I started this substack with the intent of providing synopses on the Middle East and Israel. I had it all planned out: My first post would be on the judicial reform, the second on Israeli-Palestinian tensions, and the third on domestic political crises in Israel (do they ever stop?).

Never, in my wildest dreams, would I imagine that while I was outlining the newsletter on Israeli-Palestinian tensions that my good friend and former roommate Elan Ganeles ZK”L would be killed by Palestinian terrorists.

It’s been a heart-wrenching two days, an emotional rollercoaster to say the least. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve accepted that he’s gone; other times I find myself in denial, that Elan will mosey on in soon enough for the soup night we planned on having in a few days.

Unfortunately, I can’t do this edition of the substack covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict— that will have to wait for next week, or maybe even the week after. Maybe this newsletter will make everyone understand the personal stories involved, that for the readers in America and even for some of us in Israel, it isn’t so far away.

Instead, with your permission, I’d like to share a bit about Elan. In the spirit of Elan’s intellectual curiousity, desire to analyze literally everything, and the fact that this is supposed to be a newsletter delivering analysis, I’d like to share three lessons I think we can all learn from Elan. There are so many stories with Elan; he was such a great person that we can all learn something from him.

But first, let me provide a short background.

Elan’s Story

Elan was born in 1996. He grew up in West Hartford, Connecticut, with a wonderful family and warm community. His family was so important to him: He loved his parents, Andrew and Carolyn, and was beyond proud of his younger brothers Simon and Gabe. His best friends to this day are the kids from West Hartford he grew up with, many of them migrating to the Upper West Side of Manhattan as well, where Elan lived.

As a child, Elan’s intellectual curiosity and aptitude shined. At the funeral today, his parents made it abundantly clear how Elan knew everything about nature, specifically flowers and birds. He memorized all of the US presidents and their bios. He loved to learn about everything and anything.

After Elan graduated high school in 2014, he attended a gap-year program in Jerusalem, learning in Yeshiva. It was during this year where I first met Elan a few times. But after living in Jerusalem, Elan wasn’t ready to leave Israel, instead spending a few months on a kibbutz learning Hebrew before drafting to the Israel Defense Forces.

After his three years in the IDF, Elan enrolled in Columbia University, where his academic prowess could really grow. At Columbia, Elan and I became good friends, ultimately deciding to room together during his second year.

I could speak for hours about him, recalling a myriad of stories and conversations I had with Elan, often times well past midnight, his favorite time to talk. In his second year at Columbia, he simply couldn’t choose a major. He enrolled in classes in every subject— ranging from chemistry to literature, histoy to computer science. Elan’s most stressful part of the semester was always the first two weeks because he could never figure out what to take, not wanting to be deprived of any intellectual opportunity. It wasn’t the work that stressed him, that was the fun part.

Elan loved maps and geography, ultimately becoming a geospacial analyst after graduation. But, as much as he loved maps, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention his love for soups.

Boy, did Elan love soup.

Every week for the past several years, Elan would invite everyone over for a different soup. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. Friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends, strangers. He would cook, serve, and clean for everyone. And every week it was a different, unique, international soup.

Before I moved out of the West Side in May last year, he allowed me to pick the soup for my last Soup Night. He was so upset (in an Elan way— he didn’t actually get upset) that I chose such an easy and basic soup (potato leek— I guess my tastes were too basic for him).

And that brings me to….

You can never treat your friends too well

Letting me pick the soup may not seem like such a big deal, and it wasn’t. Because it was just a drop in the bucket for what Elan did for his friends. If you needed something, he was there for you. If you needed to talk, he was there for you (especially if it was after midnight). He would bring you anything you needed, whenever. If you were sick, you obviously could expect a bowl of soup, and it would make him so happy to do that for you, for your sake but also because he was able to make soup!

But the real lesson here isn’t what Elan did for people, which was obviously a lot.

It’s how he made you feel when you spoke to him. He would give you his undivided attention, focusing only on what you had to say. He made you feel like the most important person in his life and in the world at that very moment. If someone interreputed you, he would tell that person off for doing so, and then apologize to that person for telling them off, before letting you continue.

Elan also had a knack for getting to know people very well and would pick up on how you felt about certain topics. If he sensed you were down, he would encourage you. If he thought you were lacking self-confidence, he would tell you how amazing you are and that you’re destined for greatness in whatever field you chose. He always pushed me to follow my dreams and gave me the self-confidence I often times needed and still do today.

At the funeral, I learned he had a list of 100 friends he kept to make sure he was staying in touch with everyone. He had planned to see 25 friends in Israel on his short visit. Elan never ceased to make his friends and family feel like the most important people in the world.

Before I moved to Israel in July, it didn’t look like I was going to be able to see Elan before I left. This was simply unacceptable to Elan, who then proceded to travel 2 hours each way to see me off at the airport for 15 minutes. He made us feel like we were the most important people in his life… and that was the last time I saw him.

Elan seeing me off on my way to Israel. I made sure to get him a plant for his upcoming bithday.

We all have room to treat our friends and family better. Elan did too, but he was so good at it. We can all learn from him in being there to support not just our close friends, but also people we barely know, supporting them when they’re down, giving them self-confidence, and making them feel oh, so special, the way he knew how to so well.

Be yourself, unabashedly so

One of my favorite things about Elan was that he was goofy. In the best way possible. He would make you laugh with odd comments here and there and say things that literally only he could get away with. He had his quirks, as every single one of us does, but instead of hiding them he embraced them. He was the realest person ever, hiding nothing from anyone (which wasn’t always a good thing— some things were definitely better left unsaid). But that’s what made Elan who he was. Elan was who he was because of his quirks and audacity, not despite them.

Too many of us try to hide the weird things about ourselves. After all, that is the “normal” thing to do. But Elan taught me that we don’t need to do that. That we don’t need to hide the weird things about ourselves to be accepted, to be loved.

Over the past 48 hours, I’ve literally racked my brain trying to think if I can think of anyone— a friend, acquaintance, or even someone I heard of once— more beloved by everyone than Elan, full of quirks. So far, I haven’t come up with anyone else.

They were his charm, a way of disarming you into becoming another one of his many best friends. And not only that, he would push you to embrace your quirkier side too. That was the real you, he always argued, and you should be proud of it too.

And most importantly…

Don’t fight, say ‘I love you’ instead

Elan never got mad. Never raised his voice. Never.

Okay, I lied. He would raise his voice in a debate to talk over you about a point he was making, but not in an angry way. He never got angry. Never. If someone would yell at him about anything, he would stand there and smile, calmly responding “Why are you yelling? Why are you upset? We’ll fix it, I love you.”

It didn’t matter what you did to Elan. He simply wouldn’t get upset about it. He was so calm and relaxed, taking things just seriously enough to address them, but no more. I never once heard him yell (outside of a debate, or to answer a trivia question over everyone else), even if he had the right to. Instead of escalating a situation, Elan knew exactly how to de-escalate, whether it be cracking a joke or mediating between the two sides.

And it’s not because he was afraid of confrontation or telling you were wrong about something. It’s just that he genuinely wanted everyone to be happy. He would do whatever it took to keep people happy and having a good time, hating when people were upset or not enjoying. Elan was a peacemaker, not a fighter. Always lowering the decibles instead of increasing the volume.

But he went a step further too. Elan would always randomly throw in the words “I love you” conversation. Or over text, too. Looking back at my messages now with him, I’ve seen so many instances where he said “I love you” seemingly out of nowhere, but he just wanted me to know it. And know that he meant it and that I was important to him.

Elan would say I love you all of the time because he was full of love, of care. Even if someone was mad at him, he’d throw it in there, forcing the other person to say it back. Not a bad tactic, if you ask me.

We can all do better, whether it be telling our loved one complements, being slow to get angry at them, and telling them how much we love them.

Unfortunately, you don’t know if it will be the last time.