My father, Dave, David
He died Monday morning, but we
started losing him 10-12 years ago. And the man he was before that is who I
want to talk about today, the man who to my eyes was one of the most handsome
men, who could do anything!
There are a few adjectives that
immediately come to mind when I think of Dad; modest, humble, and loyal. And he
was always a gentleman. Dad had real values in life, not the least of which was
always to do the right thing, and treat all people with respect. This is a value
he instilled in his children, part of who we are today.
As most of you probably know, Dad
was the youngest son of Jacob and Bubbles (Devorah really, my namesake). He was
the only 'ours' of a 'yours, mine, and ours' family, just like I am. I always
felt a special connection with Dad because of this.
Dad married at the young age of 17;
he married Gertie Gray, and soon my brothers Mel and Neil were born.
Tragically, Gertie died at the age of 34, and Dad was left alone with his 2
young boys, age 9 and 4. Two years later, thanks to auntie Ruthie's prodding,
Dad attended Parents without Partners, where he met my mother Lottie Garfinkle
Shatenstein. My mother had also lost her husband, Moe, father to my sisters
Bryna and Elaine, and my brother Stan. And then they had me, and we were six
kids, in the relatively small house on Luck Avenue.
I sped through the years just now
to illustrate a point about my dad. He took on a huge responsibility in
marrying mom, he went from a family of two kids to 5. And then 6. A huge
responsibility for a simple hard working man. But he and my mother were a
terrific couple. Bryna remembers how Mom started smiling again when they met -
I think that says it all.
Dad worked at Margo printing for
many years. I remember him leaving the house at 6:30 AM and returning 6:30 PM.
Supper was on the table and dad talked about his day at the 'plant'. He was
straightforward and strict, very strict I can tell you. That was because for
him everything was black and white, no shades of gray. And he had a terrible
bark, definitely worse than his bite, we used to say.
Despite dad working so hard, he
always had his hobbies. He was of the first to have a Commodore 64 computer. Then
there was his ham radio, a hobby he shared with his good friend Bill Letovsky.
Dad had his ham radio in the car; it was not a CB, a ham radio operator looked
down on a CB operator. You didn't have to learn morse code to use a CB he'd
tell me. And from dad's radio in the basement he would contact amateur radio
operators in Europe and Israel even, and he'd get so excited. And this was
decades before the invention if the internet. I still remember listening to him
send morse code messages, hearing 'da da dadit' from the basement (god knows
what they meant), and his car license plate 'VE2 DMB', his call sign.
And camping, which dad had done
with Mel and Neil, and to which he now brought the new larger family. And mom,
new to this, somehow managed to keep the tent, and later tent trailer, as
spotless as our home. I have so many fond memories of camping with my parents,
first with some of my brothers and sisters, then mainly just with my parents.
There were bonfires with Hinda and
Bill and Stuart Letovsky, and of course fun week-ends with Phyllis and Manny
Kirk, Ellen and Andy and Diana. Dad sitting by the fire with his cupped hand
full of peanuts, jiggling them back and forth.
It was at Margo where he met his
great friend Manny. They worked together there, but more importantly they
fished together, they camped together, and they had a beautiful friendship.
Manny said that in all the years of friendship their only arguments were at
work, never when they were camping or fishing or just having fun. Manny and
Phyllis and their kids and the Alpers spent week-ends happily together.
To my kids and nieces and nephews,
who knew Zayda as a somewhat strict and serious man, I wish you had seen him in
those camping days. We swam together, we hiked together, and we visited many
parts of Canada and the US on those camping trips.
In the winter, every Saturday for many years, Dad and I went
to ski school; well I went to ski school and Dad came along as a chaperone
because I was too scared to go myself. He was a great swimmer, but an even
better skier I think.
And for Dad and Mom, as they grew older, they discovered
square dancing, with Ruth and Maurice Miller and Hinda and Bill, Abe and Sharon
Flower and Myra and Paul Heymann. They dressed in their crazy square dance
clothes, mom in her crinoline and dad w his skinny tie. They had a ball!
At their 25 th wedding anniversary party they even put on an impromptu
performance w some of their square dance friends.
My mother never passed her drivers test despite 3 attempts,
thankfully (she would have been a terrible driver), so dad was the patient chauffeur
accompanying her during all her errands, driving to whichever store had the
best prices. After the errands, on Saturdays, we'd go to the Garfinkle
grandparents on TransIsland and hang out with the cousins.
We'd pass chanukahs at my special auntie Ruthie's, there
were visits at uncle Nat’s house, with Shelley and Michael, and seeing Bubbie and
Zayda Shatenstein in Chomedy.
Family was everything to my dad. Losing mom almost 21 years
ago was terribly hard on him. He would often say how lucky he was to have
married 2 wonderful women, but how unlucky he was to have lost them both. “And
wasn't it the man who was supposed to go first!”
Dad, though you have been slipping away from us over the
years, you were still there to hug and to give a kiss. And you kissed us back,
somehow, until a few months ago. Now you're really gone - we love you and miss
you
