Some people—though rarely our bosses—are impressed and amazed to hear we are writers. The job has a kind of mystique.

But to those of us whose parents were writers, writing is a trade, no more and no less. We are proud of it, but proud in the way that a family of boilermakers or iron workers or firefighters would be.

We're also under lots of pressure when a writer dies, to deliver a good eulogy.

Henry Ehrlich is a speechwriter I've known for 15 years. His brother Dick is a writer too. Their dad Eugene was a writer. He died April 5.

Henry gave Eugene's eulogy. Here's the beginning, and the end:

***

Jews don’t believe in open caskets, but we do believe in open books. And before you are dozens of books. Eugene’s books.

My father used to say, and he may have been quoting someone, if you write 500 words a day, you will leave behind a shelf of books. That’s what he wanted, and that’s what he did.

But of course, there’s more. My father loved the people he loved, although he sometimes had funny ways of showing it. He liked the people he liked, most of them. He ridiculed the people he didn’t like, with conviction and style. And as a rule, he hated Republicans, even the one who very kindly wrote an introduction for [his book] Amo, Amas, Amat--William Buckley.

Last fall when Eugene was in the emergency room, the neurologist asked him who the president was. He couldn’t remember his name, but he smiled at me and said, “That dumb son of a bitch.” ...

When my father’s first book How to Study Better and Get Higher Marks came out in 1961, there was one review. And I still remember one phrase from it. “Written with authority and humor.” That has stayed with me. It is the standard for everything I do, no matter how technical. I think it is the standard for [my brother] Dick.

“Authority and Humor.” Film at eleven. Gone to seek a great perhaps. Stay tuned.

***

Authority and humor, indeed.