My son, Jim, said he enjoyed my postings that included info about my relationship, however short, with my dad. Ergo, if you don’t enjoy this posting, blame him, not me. LOL. Let’s see if that passes muster in his editing efforts.
In the next few pages I will pass on to you a summary of both my direct knowledge of my relationship with him, and also what I learned directly from my mom, who literally adored him.
As a reminder, my dad passed from a heart attack in November, 1943. He was only 39 years old. I was four. Of course, my direct memories are very few and sketchy.
I think you also would agree that the things you vividly recall from early childhood are usually things that scared you. Thankfully, I do have some very fond memories to share. Dad was the manager of the Sears and Roebuck store in Jackson Heights, Queens, NYC.
I recall his taking me to his office in the store and showing me his intercom phones. I was fascinated that we could talk to other parts of the store on those speaker phones. I remember pushing buttons and squealing when a voice answered. I was probably a bit of a pest.
I also vaguely recall his taking me to parks and beaches where I could play in water. Here’s where one of my scares comes in. At one of the parks there was a pool. To enter the pool you had to first go through a small entrance with fast water spraying on your feet and legs. For some reason, that scared little ole me so bad I still remember it clearly today, about 82 years later.
His store was on Roosevelt Avenue, just below the elevated train to Times Square. He left me for just a moment in the car, while parked under the tracks, to get something from his store. Murphy’s Law took hold, and in the short time he was in the store, a train came right over me. I screamed bloody murder. He ran out and comforted me. Again, I vividly recall that scare today.
On a very sad note, I also recall him on a gurney, being taken out of our apartment and to the hospital. He told me to take care of my mom. It was the last time I saw him.

My mom sheltered both me and my older brother, Jerry, from our dad’s hospitalization and funeral. (Yes, I had a brother. His story is complex and for another time).
The rest of my knowledge of my dad was from my mom, over a several-year period. He was always presented to me as a shining example.
She met him while in high school. He was her best friend’s brother. (Remind you of someone, Kiersten?) She told me a story about him I’ve never forgotten. For some reason, she went with him to his house. As they entered, he saw his mom was on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. According to my mom, he put his books down. Went to her and picked her up and put her in a chair, saying little or nothing. He then got to his knees and finished scrubbing the floor. A great story, but my cynicism says she was hinting for me to scrub our floor. Which, by the way, I did… a few days later.
Friends of the family also related many stories of his kindness, leadership, and always-present keen sense of humor.
He had so many talents I do not possess. An eagle scout, avid fisherman, and ability to fix most anything. I have hoped all my life that I could emulate his infectious friendliness and sense of humor, that everyone who knew him told me about. It was a tragedy that his life was ended so quickly. It’s an interesting mind game to wonder what I would be like had he lived to pass on more of his talent, wisdom, and humor to me. There are many other stories I could share, but maybe later. Enuf