Category Archives: de rebus familiaribus

My father’s day gift came early this year…

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My father’s day came early this year in the form of a beautiful forest-green Fender Jazz Bass that Tracie knew I had been wanting for the little recording studio I’ve been building. Man, it’s sweet!

But I haven’t been able to play it at all since I brought it home on Thursday. Not one lick.

And that’s the best part: Georgia, 14-going-on-15 and soon to be high schooler, has spent every free moment of her weekend playing and practicing the songs she’s been working on.

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the moment and the feeling when I set her and her bass up with her favorite guitar strap: a hand-stitched, star-spangled strap from Austin, Texas, that my lucky Telecaster wore when I lived in NYC and used to tour the country with a couple of different bands.

As soon as I finished tinkering with the strap locks, she got out her Green Day photo book to show me: the guitar player has a strap just like hers.

I thought I was going to melt. What a great father’s day this has already been.

Happy father’s day to all the dads, to all the families, all around!

(I’ll get my hands on the bass tomorrow while she’s at music camp…)

What it’s like to grow up the son of a sexual predator.

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Thanks to everyone who reached out to share condolences after the death of my father, Zane Parzen.

I loved my father. I also saw what a destructively toxic and even outright evil person he was. And while I was never sexually abused by him, the emotional abuse I suffered as his child was only rivaled by the awful way he treated my mother and my brothers.

I was 15 years old when the San Diego Reader, the city’s weekly rag, published a front-page story about my father and one of the women he abused while she was in his care, including the photo above.

It was just the tip of the iceberg. His case became a national sensation and even inspired a Hollywood movie.

After my mother died in October of last year, I finally read the book that Evelyn Walker, one of his victims, wrote about him. It was published in 1986 while I was a freshman at UCLA. I also discovered that much has been written about him in the meantime. He became the “textbook” case for sexual malpractice.

Through my research, I also learned that what had happened was much worse than the adults told us when we were children. Much worse.

Even after he left our family, I always stayed in touch with him and visited him often. After he was viciously rude to Tracie at a family reunion in Texas, I cut him off from my family. But I would still go visit him when I could. As he lay dying last week in Plattsburgh, New York, where he lived with his third wife, no one came to visit him but me. No one. [update: since posting this I was informed that my little brother visited with Zane before he died; other than him I am not aware of anyone else]

It’s been a really tough week for me. One of the hardest things is that I have no one to share my mourning. That’s the saddest part: after all he did to his family and to his patients and G-d knows to whom else, no one came to say goodbye… except me. [update: as per above, except me and my little brother]

I plan to write more about him and his legacy here. Thanks for all the words of support and solidarity. As my friend Shawn Amos once wrote about a parent, I never met anyone who could be so mean and mean so much to me.

Zane Parzen, psyschoanalyst whose sexual malpractice case set legal precedent, dies at 92.

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Zane Parzen, whose 1981 sexual malpractice case set a legal precedent, has died from complications from dementia. His death in Plattsburgh, New York, was confirmed by his wife Tanya Parzen.

Parzen was a prominent psychoanalyst in San Diego when he was accused of having sexual relations with multiple women who were in his care. It was later revealed that he had also been giving patients a dangerous cocktail of drugs. The emotional toll led some of the women to attempt suicide.

In the late 1970s, after Parzen had been practicing medicine in California for a decade, one of his patients, Evelyn Walker, formally revealed that she had been in a years-long sexual and romantic relationship with Parzen.

The $4.6 million settlement in her 1981 lawsuit against Parzen set a record for amount awarded in a sexual malpractice case. It also prompted insurance companies to discontinue sexual malpractice coverage. During the trial, Parzen admitted in open court that he had abused Walker and multiple other women. While the insurance company was ultimately forced to pay a reduced amount, Parzen faced no criminal charges. His medical license was restricted but never revoked.

In 1986, Walker published an account of her experience titled “A Killing Cure.” In the book, she describes the abuse, including graphic details of their relationship.

Zane Parzen was born in 1933 in South Bend, Indiana, to Louis and Ethel (Levy) Dribin. Parzen’s father died of cancer when he was eight years old. His mother remarried a rabbi, Maurice Parzen, who adopted Ethel’s sons. Parzen graduated at the top of his class at Central High School and attended Harvard for two years before completing his degree at Indiana University. He attended medical school at the University of Chicago where he was trained as a Freudian psychoanalyst.

He is survived by his wife Tanya; and three sons from his marriage to Judith Parzen: Tad Parzen, Jeremy Parzen, and Micah Parzen.

More notes about his life and legacy to come.

Bravissima Georgia!

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The day Tracie and I first kissed. The day we were married. The days our girls were born. Georgia’s 8th grade concerto. Best days of my life. Bravissima Georgia! What a gift you have given your father. Your hard work and devotion to your music… you are an inspiration to me. Now on to HSPVA! @tracieparzen I love them so much! I love you! Thank you to orchestra director Tim. Thank you to all her wonderful teachers over the years. Thank you to all of the teachers who came to hear her. Thank you to our wonderful and fabulously supportive group of parents and awesome PTO. Thanks to my Levy, Kelly, and Branch families for sharing this unforgettable performance and evening with us. Too many blessings to count on a beautiful spring morning in Houston. (JC Bach, viola concerto in C minor, Meyerland Middle School, May 28, 2026)

Happy Mother’s Day, Judy. Memories and gravlax.

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Mom, my goodness, happy Mother’s Day!

How long has it been since you’ve been gone? Not even a year has passed since you left us.

I found this photo deep in the trove of papers I recovered from your apartment before it was cleaned out.

Wow! That was 1995 and I’m pretty sure, based on my memories, that the image was captured in Siena, just off the Piazza del Campo. It was 1995 (a date recorded on the verso), probably January, while I was still on winter break from my Fulbright year at the Scuola Normale and Vatican.

Look at your broad smile! Look at how eager you seem to meet the day!

We sure had some good times in Italy during my years there. I’ll never forget that first dinner at the Osteria del Leone in Bagno Vignoni (in Siena province).

But then again, we also had exquisite brunch at Las Mañanitas relais in Cuernavaca, an evening repast in the same dining room as Henry Kissinger at Ducasse (not long after it opened), lunch across from Kofi Annan at the U.N. mess, supper served by a sommelier with a tongue piercing at Alinea… A Thousand Cranes in LA, Petrossian (back in the day) in NYC, sweetbreads followed by famous flan at La Puerta del Sol in Tijuana…. man, those were the days!

If you were here with us today, I know you would remember each and every one of those meals and occasions. I know I remember them, and a million more, so gladly.

You weren’t so fond of taking pictures. And when you were coerced into posing for one, your smile appeared only reluctantly.

But buried deep, under a pile of photos from your trip to Israel, I discovered a secret stash of photos from that Sienese sojourn, many of them with your beaming smile.

Oh, to share some of your favorite gravlax at Barney Greengrass on this first Mother’s Day without you! I can hear the servers carrying on about the freshly fired latkes now…

Parzen family updates and music this Saturday night.

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Folks may have noticed that I haven’t been posting much lately.

That’s because I’ve been busy with a book project and I’ve been finishing up my coursework to get my realtor license.

Tracie’s real estate business has only continued to grow (poo poo poo!). I’ve already been helping out with all kinds of tasks (media, staging, handiwork). But with my license in place, I’ll be able to support her to an even greater extent.

Now that my studies are complete, I’m just waiting in the queue to get my exam date (the process is painfully slow).

I’ve also been doing a lot of music. I upgraded my recording rig this year and I’ve been helping out with kids’ video auditions and helping a couple of music friends demo their original music. That’s been super fun.

On Saturday evening, Bela and the Bangers (above) will be performing at our beloved Emmit’s Place, our local dive bar/music club. The occasion is Bela’s birthday and a ton of her friends are coming out to jam. We’ll play a set on the early side, followed by appearances from the gazillion awesome musicians Bela plays with. It should be a super fun evening and there will be great food as well. Come on down if you’re looking for something to do and want to support local music and local business.

It’s incredible to think that I haven’t been back to Italy in more than a year. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help out with travel recommendations for friends. But at this point, I don’t have the intel anymore.

What else? The girls are both doing well and are looking forward to their summer camp (music) and summer vacations (Florida and California).

I have so many things that I want to write about and share here. Please don’t give up on me! And thanks for being here. I’ll get back to posting regularly soon. And hope to see you on Saturday night at Emmit’s!

Lila, age 12: “if not us, then who?” Words to live by.

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One of the biggest changes in our family’s life this year has been the arrival of Tillie Billie Eilish — our rescue Beagle-Red Heeler mix.

Before she was first homed in Willis, Texas, about an hour north of us, she must have been abused. Men, in particular, are loathsome to her — me included.

The passing of our dog Rusty left such a big hole in our home and our hearts. It’s been tough for me not to be able to develop a relationship with her. The only person in the house she plays with is Lila Jane, our 12-year-old. She sleeps every night in Lila’s bed.

When I complained about how reserved she is around me, Lila gently nudged: Daddy, look at it this way. You’re the man she likes more than any other!

When she saw how disappointed I am not to be one of Tillie’s persons, she looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes.

Daddy, she said, think about it this way: who else, besides our family, would be patient enough to help her? If we don’t do it, who else would? We have to take care of her!

Little did our Lila Jane know that she was quoting Hillel the Elder. If not now, then when?

She was also quoting the late congressman John Lewis. If not us, then who?

In a world where kindness and personal responsibility seem to be in short supply, 12-year-old Lila spoke like the sages of antiquity, like a leader of the civil rights movement.

Reading the awful daily news, I keep going back to what Lila said. We surely could use more of that today. Every morning when I sit down at the keyboard, I’m going to ask myself, If not us, then who? If not now, then when? At our house, they are words to live by.

HSPVA-bound! Congratulations Georgia!

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Ever since the girls entered the Suzuki strings music program at Parker Elementary, we have been dreaming that one day they would attend Houston’s Kinder High School for the Performing and Visual Arts, one of the top performing arts schools in the country.

It’s been a long and winding road since Georgia first picked up her violin (and later switched to viola), paved with honest hard work and genuine sacrifice.

Yesterday we learned that she has been accepted into the conservatory program there. Tears are welling in my eyes as I write this.

Congratulations, Georgia! Beautiful child, brainy teen, “old soul” (as so many people call you), you are a dream come true. You are my dream come true.

Not long before she died, my mother wondered out loud if she should have supported me more in my own music journey.

“Watching all you do for the girls’ music,” she said, “it makes me think I should have done that for you.” I really didn’t know what to say. “But you did all right without me,” she added.

Because of the tragedies unfolding in our lives during my teenage years, Judy didn’t have the bandwidth or energy to take interest in my creative or academic life. I was on my own. But I did “alright,” as she told me that day not so long ago.

Watching Georgia thrive and achieve a highest of heights feels like an empty space in my soul is finally being filled up with joy and promise. Had Georgia pursued a different field or path I would be just as happy. But that she’s doing music… wow… man… The dreams deferred (who gets the reference?) are making way for a soul fulfilled.

Congratulations wonderful Georgia! Mommy and I couldn’t be more proud, more happy, and more excited for your bright future! We love you! We love you!

How I finally found the family where I belong. (And they’re all coming over for Passover tonight!)

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One of the wildest stories of my crazy life is how I finally found the family where I belong.

Not long after I moved to Austin to be with Tracie (good move!), a man named Marty Levy started calling me from Houston. I knew who he was — my father’s first cousin. Beyond that, he and his family were strangers to me. That’s because he and my father stopped speaking in the early 1980s when I was a teenager.

As it turns out, Marty and his family like fine dining. Before long, I was commuting to Houston every week for one of the best gigs that I’ve ever had. It was thanks to Marty, a personal friend of Tony Vallone, that I began working with the legendary Texas restaurant Tony’s. The job and the Levys are why we moved here to Houston, a city that I love.

Over the years, the Levy and (Texas) Parzen families have shared countless meals and holidays. We have a lot in common (music, food, wine, academia) and we genuinely love hanging out and caring for one another.

Let’s face it: my San Diego family has never liked me. I used to be close to my older brother. That ended when he became a lawyer more than 30 years ago. My little brother and his wife have shunned me since college. In the run-up to our mother’s death, they seemed to want to have a relationship. But it ultimately emerged that they wanted me to side with them against my older brother. Nice, right? No dice.

Why is my original nuclear family so messed up? I attribute the fracture to the black cloud that has followed us in the wake of horrific crimes committed by our father. It’s not easy to love your own family, I guess, when your dad is featured in the local paper for being a prolific asshole.

Tonight the Levys are coming over for Passover. There will be nearly 20 of us breaking matzos together. It’s a miracle. I came to Texas for Tracie. But Texas gave me the family that loves me. Man, I’m one lucky son of a gun to have escaped the misery of Parzen family California. Gut Yontif! Happy Passover! I’m finally home.

To dream the impossible dream: Talarico for Texas.

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One of the most compelling speeches I’ve ever heard in my life was devoted not to the politics of nation but the politics of wine.

Back when the debate over Brunello di Montalcino was raging (in the wake of Brunellogate, where Brunello bottlers were caught adding unauthorized grapes to their wines, giving them an unfair and illegal market advantage), the appellation held a controversial and closely followed referendum: should Brunello be made with 100 percent Sangiovese grapes, the historic local variety, as tradition encouraged and law required? or should bottlers be allowed to add “international” grapes like Merlot, ostensibly making their wines more market-ready?

It was the legendary Barolo grower, Teobaldo Cappellano, who blew me away with his contribution to a debate streamed over the internets. He was for keeping Brunello the traditional monovarietal wine (just Sangiovese, as it had been made at least since the 1960s).

“Sometimes the battles most worth fighting are the ones you know you are going to lose,” said Baldo as he was known. To dream the impossible dream, as it were.

I’ve lived in Texas for nearly two decades. I can’t remember a year when democratic pundits didn’t claim that “this is the year we are going to turn Texas blue,” or at least “purple.” Rubber tree plants aside, it still hasn’t happened.

That won’t stop our family for believing in and block-walking for Talarico for Texas. Politically and electorally, our state remains Republican dominant. But that doesn’t mean that nearly half of our state’s residents are people like Tracie and me.

For the record here’s the opening of Talarico’s mission statement:

“Our economy is broken. Our politics are broken. Even our relationships with each other feel broken. That’s because the most powerful people in the world want it that way. The biggest divide in this country is not left vs. right. It’s top vs. bottom. Billionaires want us looking left and right at each other instead of looking up at them.”

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To be better far than you are
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far

No matter whom you support, please vote this November 3.