Letting go is a very painful thing to do. All four of us have grown up our entire lives under the sheltering wings you always provided us, and the most difficult thing in the world for us is to realize now that they are gone.
My father was born in Nanticoke, a little town near Wilkes-Barre. He went to Nanticoke High School - played football there. He went on to college at NYU, but the war intervened. He and his two brothers joined the armed services and spent the war overseas. All three returned safely, thank G-d. He married a girl from Scranton and moved there, and started up a business in auto parts.
But as much as he and my mother put their hearts and souls into that business, that was only a part of his life. First, he stayed in the Air Force reserves for over 25 years, making friendships that lasted until today. Then there were sports. Ah - he loved sports - football, baseball, basketball, college football - he loved them all and never missed a chance to catch a game when he could. And then there was golf. That was a passion.
But his real passion was Jefferson Ave. It was my mother, and that band of four guys at home. And all the love he gave us just multiplied when the grandchildren came along. They all truly became the light of his life.
But the most outstanding thing I could say about my father is that I never met a person who didn’t like him. I never met anyone who had a bad word or a cross word to say about him. His affection for people knew no bounds, no limits. Rich, poor, old, young, air force pal, civilian, customer, salesman - it didn’t matter to him - he always had a smile for you, and a “Howya doin’”. Just yesterday one of the people who has worked for us for 25 years said to me, “He was my buddy - he gave me a chance and hired me when no body else would - what a great guy.” And that is what he was - a great guy.
He could be tough at times, but he was unfailingly pleasant and polite. He never failed to say Please or Thank you, and always appreciated whatever you did for him. When he got sick, even with as much discomfort as he was often in, no nurse ever heard one complaint or impatient remark. Everyone said he was just the nicest guy. There was not a nurse who took care of him that didn’t comment upon how pleasant and polite and sweet he was. They all not only took care of him, but they all truly cared for him. All of our family would like to acknowledge and thank Jean, Tarique, Sandy, JoAnn, and Carol for not only taking care of my father, but for the loving way in which they did it. I also want to thank Terry Mackey, who for years was there so often to make life easier for both my mother and father. As for Dr. Kurtzer, how can we thank you. G-d sends angels in strange disguises, I guess. Words just aren’t there to say it right.
So this man came out of Nanticoke, had a 57 year love affair with my mother, and fathered this disparate band of brothers. As I guess you can tell - we all look a little different, one from the other. And we are. And yet, people always comment to me as to how it is that we are so close and get along so well together. That feeling of giving space to each other, and affection for one another comes from the top. From seeing the type of person our father was, which taught this band of four to get along the way they did. I came upon a song whose lyrics always reminded me of my father. If I can paraphrase the words for you:
He left his home
And went his lone
And solitary way
And he gave to me
A gift I know I never
can repay
He earned his love
Through discipline
A thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls
Took me years to understand.
The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band.
My brothers' lives were
different
For they heard another call
One went to Chicago
And the other to St. Paul
And I'm in Colorado
When I'm not in some hotel
Living out this life I've chose
And come to know so well.
I thank you for the music
And your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom
When it came my time to go --
I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, pap, I don't think I
Said 'I love you' near enough --
The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
We are the living legacy to the leader of the band.
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