I am turning 70 years old and I am in Panama City and on my way to visit my Mother's grave site. It is June 5th, my birthday. After 70 years I will talk to her, call her Mama and know she really existed.
My daughter Jennifer is taking me as a birthday gift. It is the only thing I told her I wanted for my birthday and she said, "then Mom, I am taking you."
She and I met in Miami to board the plane for Panama. I flew down from New York and she from Los Angeles. I was teary the entire flight. I spoke to Ruth silently and told her I was coming. When we arrived in Panama City it was late in the day so we unpacked, had dinner and went to bed. The next morning we arranged for a driver to take us to the cemetery. When we arrived we were met by Mr. Phelps, the man who located her burial site and had sent me the first photo of my mother's grave stone. I remember that I could hardly breathe when I received the email and attached photo. She was found! She could actually be located. She was real! I called him that day, crying and thanking him for sending it to me. He had even gone to the trouble to rub her stone with sand so the letters would be more vivid when he took the photo.
(to be continued)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
WHY AM I WRITING THIS STUFF?? pt. 14?
I was thinking about what I have been doing here and I am feeling embarrassed about it all . First, I really should not refer to this as a blog, because as I understand it, blogs are usually made up of observations, opinions, instructions, gossip. They are not biographies which is what I am basically creating here. And though I call this a memoir, for lack of a better description, I really think that memoirs are usually done by people who are important enough to be asked to write one, or have done something significant enough, that one would want to read about exactly what they did and why. I am not important. I have done nothing worth reading about so I am not that person. Things have happened to me, out of my control and I had no role in any of it. So since you do not know me, WHY may I ask, are you reading this stuff?
I am curious .
If I have lead you on that I might have something important to say when I really do not, I'm sorry! It's just that with the discovery of a 'new' family, so to speak, I am driven to write all this stuff down. My Mormon cousin, David wrote to me, when he saw that I was asking myself why I was so driven to write, and here is what he said. Don't go crazy now. It's just the Mormon way.
"Dolores, I will tell you again that is because of the prophet Elijiah. Go to the Old Testament and read the last two verses or..the Book of Mormon and read 3rd Nephi, chapter 25, verses5-6 (Page 456). ..he continues..."You are driven by that spirit of Elijiah which causes one to know and be attached eternally to famly members..and it will be forever." I know he cares and really wants me to understand and to believe as he does and I dare not tell him that I am a disbeliever, an agnostic, possibly an atheist!!!! What if he turns away from me?
Note that I am not writing about my current life as it has nothing to do with my 'new life'. I am only writing about my past life and how it was before I discovered my new life. Understand?
So if you are not bored up to this point and are still curious, read on. If not, I understand.
A new memory. I am standing on a stool at a bathroom sink. The bathroom walls are white as is the floor. There is a tall lady helping me brush my teeth. I think I am standing on a stool. I think I am a toddler. That's it! That's the memory.
The woman is probably Sally, the madam. I think she and I and my father were living in that house, the house with the green metal roof and stone walls on the outside. Because I remember that house. It still exists in Atlantic City and I have often driven by that house for many years, sensing that somehow I was part of that house.
But I never knew for sure until the day I drove my brother down to AC to spend the day, 5 years ago. He wanted to see his old childhood haunts he said. He had come to New York with his latest wife to sight see he told me. He asked me to take him to Atlantic City for the day to show her his old haunts when he was a kid and of course I said yes. He was 70 years old. He said he used to live in that house when he was 6 or 7, before I was sent to Atlantic City from Panama . I will tell you about that day with my brother Michael later on. He said it was the happiest day of his life. That's good because the day after, he dropped dead in my apartment. Honest to God. But more about that later.
It all came flooding back to me today. It also hit me that my Father obviously cheated on Sally or else how did I come into this world. He and Sally were definitely living together when Ruth gave birth to me in Panama. I know my friend Walt found old records in the town archives that listed an address in Atlantic City with my Mother's name as one of the tenants. I think that when she came to dance in the local clubs, he hid my Mother in that apartment. And probably knocked her up there. Or in Cuba. I know she was in Cuba a lot and so was he. Did I show you the photo of him at Sloppy Joe's bar in Havana?...if not I will.
I am curious .
If I have lead you on that I might have something important to say when I really do not, I'm sorry! It's just that with the discovery of a 'new' family, so to speak, I am driven to write all this stuff down. My Mormon cousin, David wrote to me, when he saw that I was asking myself why I was so driven to write, and here is what he said. Don't go crazy now. It's just the Mormon way.
"Dolores, I will tell you again that is because of the prophet Elijiah. Go to the Old Testament and read the last two verses or..the Book of Mormon and read 3rd Nephi, chapter 25, verses5-6 (Page 456). ..he continues..."You are driven by that spirit of Elijiah which causes one to know and be attached eternally to famly members..and it will be forever." I know he cares and really wants me to understand and to believe as he does and I dare not tell him that I am a disbeliever, an agnostic, possibly an atheist!!!! What if he turns away from me?
Note that I am not writing about my current life as it has nothing to do with my 'new life'. I am only writing about my past life and how it was before I discovered my new life. Understand?
So if you are not bored up to this point and are still curious, read on. If not, I understand.
A new memory. I am standing on a stool at a bathroom sink. The bathroom walls are white as is the floor. There is a tall lady helping me brush my teeth. I think I am standing on a stool. I think I am a toddler. That's it! That's the memory.
The woman is probably Sally, the madam. I think she and I and my father were living in that house, the house with the green metal roof and stone walls on the outside. Because I remember that house. It still exists in Atlantic City and I have often driven by that house for many years, sensing that somehow I was part of that house.
But I never knew for sure until the day I drove my brother down to AC to spend the day, 5 years ago. He wanted to see his old childhood haunts he said. He had come to New York with his latest wife to sight see he told me. He asked me to take him to Atlantic City for the day to show her his old haunts when he was a kid and of course I said yes. He was 70 years old. He said he used to live in that house when he was 6 or 7, before I was sent to Atlantic City from Panama . I will tell you about that day with my brother Michael later on. He said it was the happiest day of his life. That's good because the day after, he dropped dead in my apartment. Honest to God. But more about that later.
It all came flooding back to me today. It also hit me that my Father obviously cheated on Sally or else how did I come into this world. He and Sally were definitely living together when Ruth gave birth to me in Panama. I know my friend Walt found old records in the town archives that listed an address in Atlantic City with my Mother's name as one of the tenants. I think that when she came to dance in the local clubs, he hid my Mother in that apartment. And probably knocked her up there. Or in Cuba. I know she was in Cuba a lot and so was he. Did I show you the photo of him at Sloppy Joe's bar in Havana?...if not I will.
So, one day, not too long ago, when I saw a "for sale" sign outside that house, I called the Realtor, and said I was interested in seeing the house as a potential buyer. I did not tell her why I was interested.
When she walked me through the house, I could not conjure up any particular feelings, until we went upstairs and into the bathroom. And there I was, a toddler again, standing by that sink. No doubt about it!
All my real memories are in 26 S. Windsor avenue. Like the time my father brought home a beautiful dog named Mark. He was a 'bird' dog, or so I was told. I used to take Mark out to the boardwalk and he would love to run on the beach chasing birds. When he found one he would stop suddenly with a pointed tail, not moving a muscle. I would then grab his leash and pull him away. And then suddenly one day, when I went to look for Mark, my father said he had been stolen out of his car. So first I had Mark, then I didn't. Figures! And I must tell you that I always suspected it was Ethel who told him to get rid of the dog. That's how she always used to refer to Mark...as, "the dog". Just something I felt.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
THIS IS GETTING ME DOWN? - pt 13
I do not know why, but a malaise has taken over....a sadness and quietness......maybe dredging up all this stuff is not good for me. I'm not sure. But I did get a pick-me up yesterday as I received a package from my Mormon cousin, Michelle from Boston. She sent me an album she made of a trip she and her little girl Kylie, made to New York last year to celebrate Kylie's birthday. In the album are photos they took of all the sights we went to see, with thoughts from Kylie, and quotes from Emma Lazarus. Each page is printed on glossy paper (Michelle is an incredibly creative artist and a trained architect to boot) and on the glossy hard cover of the album is a large photo of Kylie and Moi! This took a lot of effort to make, no doubt about it. She is such a great Mother. I wish I could do it all over again. Being a Mother, I mean. I would do things so much differently. I made so many mistakes that I sometimes weep over them. I missed sharing so much with my daughter. And I exposed her to unnecessary tension in my home. But I was unable to do anything about any of it.
When Kylie was asked what she wanted for her birthday she said a trip to New York with just she and her Mom, Michelle. No sisters or brother to tag along. And that's what she got. First I met them down in Chinatown where the bus took them from Boston. Fare is less than $30.00 RT which is a great deal. So we toured Chinatown first and Kylie was impressed with seeing her first herbal pharmacy. We bought some delicious kumquats which Kylie had never eaten before and then headed uptown to times square, and one of Kylie's main destinations, to visit Toys 'R Us, which to children is like being in a child's museum, a fairy-land of 'stuff' all to buy. Every time Kylie touched something smiling, with the look of desire in her eyes, I offered to buy it as her birthday gift, but she would not select anything. When I asked her what she wanted, to just tell me, she couldn't and simply said, "nothing" with a smile on her face. "Really Cousin Dolores, I don't want anything". Amazing! I do not know a child that would not accept a gift when offered. Not only is Kylie's birthday the same as mine, but I was just like her as a child. Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted, I also said, " nothing"...except the time when I was a tot and asked for the Bride's doll.
Remember, it was Kylie that included me when she said Grace at dinner. "And thank you God, for bringing our Cousin Dolores into our lives." Yes, God. Thank you from me too for bringing them all into my life. This little bunch of Mormons from Boston. My cousins!
Are you there God? It's me , Dolores.
When Kylie was asked what she wanted for her birthday she said a trip to New York with just she and her Mom, Michelle. No sisters or brother to tag along. And that's what she got. First I met them down in Chinatown where the bus took them from Boston. Fare is less than $30.00 RT which is a great deal. So we toured Chinatown first and Kylie was impressed with seeing her first herbal pharmacy. We bought some delicious kumquats which Kylie had never eaten before and then headed uptown to times square, and one of Kylie's main destinations, to visit Toys 'R Us, which to children is like being in a child's museum, a fairy-land of 'stuff' all to buy. Every time Kylie touched something smiling, with the look of desire in her eyes, I offered to buy it as her birthday gift, but she would not select anything. When I asked her what she wanted, to just tell me, she couldn't and simply said, "nothing" with a smile on her face. "Really Cousin Dolores, I don't want anything". Amazing! I do not know a child that would not accept a gift when offered. Not only is Kylie's birthday the same as mine, but I was just like her as a child. Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted, I also said, " nothing"...except the time when I was a tot and asked for the Bride's doll.
Remember, it was Kylie that included me when she said Grace at dinner. "And thank you God, for bringing our Cousin Dolores into our lives." Yes, God. Thank you from me too for bringing them all into my life. This little bunch of Mormons from Boston. My cousins!
Are you there God? It's me , Dolores.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Poor Michael pt. 12
So the family of a 16 year old girl goes to our doctor and wants to have the girl's illegitimate baby adopted. My father learns about it and he adopts this baby boy. No papers, just a handshake. That is before my Father went to prison. Before I was born. That baby was my brother Michael. 5 years older then me. When my father went to prison, he was about 8 years old and the family did not take care of him and he was left on his own. He lived with friends, with some priests, God knows who else.
Michael enlisted in the Korean War when he was only 17. I was twelve living in an apartment with my step mother and my baby sister Harlene. After my father died, he had nowhere to live, no one in the family offered him a room or money so he enlisted in the Marine Corps. And they took this boy, this child. He must have forged someones signature. The Marines just sucked him right up. This innocent child with no family that cared a whit for him, no where to live, no money for college, nothing. I really had no idea of the seriousness of what he was doing and there were never any conversations about the war with friends or family. In fact, we never had conversations about anything really...definitely not politics, nor books nor movies. My God, when I look back on it all I realize what an empty, vapid life I led as a teenager. This was the 'dead' fifties for sure....I had a total lack of any intellectual stimulation ..and all we thought about was ourselves......So, I did not realize I should be really concerned about my brother. There was just the TV and the news I was able to watch periodically.
He had been wounded many times and the Marines gave him a Purple Heart. He gave me some of his medals and I feel just terrible that with all the moving I had done during my youth, I lost them. He gave me a photo of himself in a bar, sitting at a table with a bunch of Marine buddies and some Korean girls, that were most probably prostitutes.
He married a couple of times and lived all over the country but he always would call, me, usually when he was drunk and always in the middle of the night. Whenever the phone rang around 2 in the morning, I knew it was Mike. He wanted to talk about our growing up in Atlantic City and his childhood. He was full of anger towards the family because they had totally abandoned him and he blamed them for our father's death. He said they stole our Dad's money and that when he got out of prison he found that he had nothing! And that's why he killed himself. I think it is because he just no longer had any power. And with no power came no money. According to the newspaper articles, he tried to borrow money but he was considered a bad risk I guess. But he was able to buy a fast food restaurant on the boardwalk. After he died my step-mother tried to run it with her sister Kate who came down from New York. I even worked in it for a summer serving hot dogs and hamburgers. At 15 I wanted to be on the beach but I had to work. Ethel was forced to sell the place by the corrupt politicians in Atlantic City who took the property under the title, "eminent domain" as if they were going to use it for the betterment of Atlantic City. It was highway robbery and everyone knew it. She got short-changed but good. But that is the way Atlantic City was run back in the day and from what I hear, it is still corrupt. One mayor after another goes to jail.
Anyway, when Mike married a woman named Nancy, I went to the wedding and the night before, he and Nancy stayed in their fifth avenue apartment which was empty of furniture. They asked me to stay with them. I remember Mike was drunk and was playing around with a gun. Nancy got hysterical and begged him to stop. She told me that he often did that kind of thing and she was very concerned. She should have called it off that very night but she didn't, so they were married the next day in a Catholic ceremony. I knew Mike and she would not work out and they didn't. She told me he had sometimes threatened suicide and drank a lot. They had a son and before little Joseph was 3, Mike took off. Nancy was not the first wife he ran out on nor would his son be the only child.
He married again to another very wealthy woman who's father had been a big deal in politics in New Mexico. They too had a son and Michael adored him. always bragged about how talented he was in sports and what a great kid he was. But something happened and once again and he split. He gave up a lot of money I understand but when Michael wanted out, that was it. He could not stop running and leaving people. But I always understood and I always knew how really disturbed he was. Who could blame him? He was tall and slim and always had women. When he would call me he would put these various women on the phone and they would tell me how much they loved him. But in time, he would leave them all. Except for the last one named Jackie, whom he met when he was in his late sixties. It was Jackie that was with me when he died in my apartment. God, I am pissed at him for doing that.
5 years ago, out of the blue, he called and said he wanted to come to NYC, with Jackie, his latest woman (they were both now 70) and visit with me. I was very excited and couldn't wait to see him. He rarely came to NYC. Only two other times if I remember correctly.
When I greeted him at the front door, I was stunned to see how ill he was. His legs were swollen because of diabetes. He was pale and could hardly walk. I asked his wife, Jackie, why she or he did not warn me as to how ill he was. She didn't seem to be too concerned and said he was ok.......but I knew he was not.
I arranged for us to take a double decker bus to take them around the city as there was no way he could sight see and walk....he was in too much pain. We also took a Circle Line boat tour around the island which he really liked. Then he asked me if I would drive them to Atlantic City so he could show Jackie where he grew up. Of course I said yes and the next morning we left. When we got two hours later, he first wanted to show Jackie the beach and where he worked as a life guard. He asked that we go to the main LifeGuard station first. I parked the car next to the boardwalk so he would have a short distance to walk and up we went to the main Lifeguard station. There was a chain across the door and a guy around 50 said I could not got any further. I told him that the man he was looking at had once won the biggest swim race in the ocean of anyone, back in the fifties and I said he was also a veteran of the Korean War. When I said his name, the guy yelled..."Mike? Mike Friedman? "...and stepped over the chain, grabbed Mikey and hugged him for all he was worth. He invited us inside and went to get something to show Mike. He came back with a huge huge black and white photo of the cutest lifeguards you have ever seen. A crowd of about 30 young boys all in their lifeguard shirts, all about 16-17 years old. And there was my big brother. Right in the center. The cutest boy you could have ever seen. He got so excited when he saw this and started to call out the names of many of the boys in the photo. The Captain said, that at that very minute, many of them were down on the beach, downtown, watching the very same race that Michael had won all those years ago. Michael asked me if we could go down there. Of course, I said yes and off we went. Privately, I asked the Captain if he would point out Michael to some of these guys as they would never recognize them all these years later as he looked very ill. Mikey was so excited that we were going to drive down to that beach.....and off we went.
When we got to the beach I helped him walk down near the ocean and suddenly about 6-7 guys came up to Michael and hugged him. They all were very happy to be there and talked about their lives and asked about his. They knew about his troubled childhood and they apparently remembered me as well. After that wonderful emotional scene on the beach with lots of bonding and memories shared, Michael wanted to show Jackie the various homes he lived in, the church that took care of him and often fed him and some of the alleys he slept in as a young boy. We even went back to 26 S. Windsor ave....the infamous red and white house where he washed the floor of his father's blood.
When it got very late we drove back to NYC and he slept in the car the entire ride back. The next morning he could not stop telling me how happy he was to be there and see all of his old sights and his old buddies. I had planned to take Mike and Jackie around NYC on another sightseeing tour but he said he was too tired and we two women should go out on our own. He wanted to just lie on the sofa bed in the living room and watch TV. As I was putting my makeup on in the bathroom I heard Jackie scream. I ran into the living room and Jackie was crying, "no Michael, no, don't do this to me." Michael was not breathing. He was dead. I called 911 and screamed for an ambulance. I called my husband who was out of town and un- reachable . I called my daughter in LA and started to cry on the phone. Jenny, Jenny, Michael is dead, my brother has died...here in the apartment "! I was in shock. I could not touch him. Just like my father. I froze completely! I went over to the bed and looked at him. He looked peaceful as if he was sleeping. But I could not do anything. Jackie was pacing up and down. The doorbell rang and in came the paramedics. They threw him on the floor and poked him with needles and tried to revive him. I kept asking them is he dead? Is he dead?.... but they would not respond. They put him on a stretcher and took him out of the apatment. Jackie said she would go with him. I said I would follow in a cab and why I did not leave with them I do not know.
The door slammed shut and I stood there alone in my apartment. It looked as if a tornado had swept through. There were syringes strewn all over the floor, living room chairs and tables overturned. Surgical gloves thrown everywhere. I looked around and could not move. I could not believe what had just happened. I said out loud to no one...." Mikey is dead!"
I was standing in my kitchen crying when the door bell rang. My daughter's best and closest friend was at the door. Jen had called her and told her to come right over and be with me. She lived right up the block. Rena walked in with a danish and a cup of coffee, hugged and kissed me, straightened out the furniture and said let's go to the hospital. When I arrived Michael was lying on a stretcher, in a room alone with Jackie standing by him. He was cold by this time and she was holding his hand. I asked the nurse at the desk for a priest. This was a Catholic hospital and I assumed one would be on site.
You see my brother was a very devout Catholic. He told me that ever since he was taken care of by the priests in a local parish that felt sorry for him when he was abandoned by our family, he felt very Catholic. And when he went to Korea is when he became even more religious. He said(to be continued)
Michael enlisted in the Korean War when he was only 17. I was twelve living in an apartment with my step mother and my baby sister Harlene. After my father died, he had nowhere to live, no one in the family offered him a room or money so he enlisted in the Marine Corps. And they took this boy, this child. He must have forged someones signature. The Marines just sucked him right up. This innocent child with no family that cared a whit for him, no where to live, no money for college, nothing. I really had no idea of the seriousness of what he was doing and there were never any conversations about the war with friends or family. In fact, we never had conversations about anything really...definitely not politics, nor books nor movies. My God, when I look back on it all I realize what an empty, vapid life I led as a teenager. This was the 'dead' fifties for sure....I had a total lack of any intellectual stimulation ..and all we thought about was ourselves......So, I did not realize I should be really concerned about my brother. There was just the TV and the news I was able to watch periodically.
He had been wounded many times and the Marines gave him a Purple Heart. He gave me some of his medals and I feel just terrible that with all the moving I had done during my youth, I lost them. He gave me a photo of himself in a bar, sitting at a table with a bunch of Marine buddies and some Korean girls, that were most probably prostitutes.
He married a couple of times and lived all over the country but he always would call, me, usually when he was drunk and always in the middle of the night. Whenever the phone rang around 2 in the morning, I knew it was Mike. He wanted to talk about our growing up in Atlantic City and his childhood. He was full of anger towards the family because they had totally abandoned him and he blamed them for our father's death. He said they stole our Dad's money and that when he got out of prison he found that he had nothing! And that's why he killed himself. I think it is because he just no longer had any power. And with no power came no money. According to the newspaper articles, he tried to borrow money but he was considered a bad risk I guess. But he was able to buy a fast food restaurant on the boardwalk. After he died my step-mother tried to run it with her sister Kate who came down from New York. I even worked in it for a summer serving hot dogs and hamburgers. At 15 I wanted to be on the beach but I had to work. Ethel was forced to sell the place by the corrupt politicians in Atlantic City who took the property under the title, "eminent domain" as if they were going to use it for the betterment of Atlantic City. It was highway robbery and everyone knew it. She got short-changed but good. But that is the way Atlantic City was run back in the day and from what I hear, it is still corrupt. One mayor after another goes to jail.
Anyway, when Mike married a woman named Nancy, I went to the wedding and the night before, he and Nancy stayed in their fifth avenue apartment which was empty of furniture. They asked me to stay with them. I remember Mike was drunk and was playing around with a gun. Nancy got hysterical and begged him to stop. She told me that he often did that kind of thing and she was very concerned. She should have called it off that very night but she didn't, so they were married the next day in a Catholic ceremony. I knew Mike and she would not work out and they didn't. She told me he had sometimes threatened suicide and drank a lot. They had a son and before little Joseph was 3, Mike took off. Nancy was not the first wife he ran out on nor would his son be the only child.
He married again to another very wealthy woman who's father had been a big deal in politics in New Mexico. They too had a son and Michael adored him. always bragged about how talented he was in sports and what a great kid he was. But something happened and once again and he split. He gave up a lot of money I understand but when Michael wanted out, that was it. He could not stop running and leaving people. But I always understood and I always knew how really disturbed he was. Who could blame him? He was tall and slim and always had women. When he would call me he would put these various women on the phone and they would tell me how much they loved him. But in time, he would leave them all. Except for the last one named Jackie, whom he met when he was in his late sixties. It was Jackie that was with me when he died in my apartment. God, I am pissed at him for doing that.
5 years ago, out of the blue, he called and said he wanted to come to NYC, with Jackie, his latest woman (they were both now 70) and visit with me. I was very excited and couldn't wait to see him. He rarely came to NYC. Only two other times if I remember correctly.
When I greeted him at the front door, I was stunned to see how ill he was. His legs were swollen because of diabetes. He was pale and could hardly walk. I asked his wife, Jackie, why she or he did not warn me as to how ill he was. She didn't seem to be too concerned and said he was ok.......but I knew he was not.
I arranged for us to take a double decker bus to take them around the city as there was no way he could sight see and walk....he was in too much pain. We also took a Circle Line boat tour around the island which he really liked. Then he asked me if I would drive them to Atlantic City so he could show Jackie where he grew up. Of course I said yes and the next morning we left. When we got two hours later, he first wanted to show Jackie the beach and where he worked as a life guard. He asked that we go to the main LifeGuard station first. I parked the car next to the boardwalk so he would have a short distance to walk and up we went to the main Lifeguard station. There was a chain across the door and a guy around 50 said I could not got any further. I told him that the man he was looking at had once won the biggest swim race in the ocean of anyone, back in the fifties and I said he was also a veteran of the Korean War. When I said his name, the guy yelled..."Mike? Mike Friedman? "...and stepped over the chain, grabbed Mikey and hugged him for all he was worth. He invited us inside and went to get something to show Mike. He came back with a huge huge black and white photo of the cutest lifeguards you have ever seen. A crowd of about 30 young boys all in their lifeguard shirts, all about 16-17 years old. And there was my big brother. Right in the center. The cutest boy you could have ever seen. He got so excited when he saw this and started to call out the names of many of the boys in the photo. The Captain said, that at that very minute, many of them were down on the beach, downtown, watching the very same race that Michael had won all those years ago. Michael asked me if we could go down there. Of course, I said yes and off we went. Privately, I asked the Captain if he would point out Michael to some of these guys as they would never recognize them all these years later as he looked very ill. Mikey was so excited that we were going to drive down to that beach.....and off we went.
When we got to the beach I helped him walk down near the ocean and suddenly about 6-7 guys came up to Michael and hugged him. They all were very happy to be there and talked about their lives and asked about his. They knew about his troubled childhood and they apparently remembered me as well. After that wonderful emotional scene on the beach with lots of bonding and memories shared, Michael wanted to show Jackie the various homes he lived in, the church that took care of him and often fed him and some of the alleys he slept in as a young boy. We even went back to 26 S. Windsor ave....the infamous red and white house where he washed the floor of his father's blood.
When it got very late we drove back to NYC and he slept in the car the entire ride back. The next morning he could not stop telling me how happy he was to be there and see all of his old sights and his old buddies. I had planned to take Mike and Jackie around NYC on another sightseeing tour but he said he was too tired and we two women should go out on our own. He wanted to just lie on the sofa bed in the living room and watch TV. As I was putting my makeup on in the bathroom I heard Jackie scream. I ran into the living room and Jackie was crying, "no Michael, no, don't do this to me." Michael was not breathing. He was dead. I called 911 and screamed for an ambulance. I called my husband who was out of town and un- reachable . I called my daughter in LA and started to cry on the phone. Jenny, Jenny, Michael is dead, my brother has died...here in the apartment "! I was in shock. I could not touch him. Just like my father. I froze completely! I went over to the bed and looked at him. He looked peaceful as if he was sleeping. But I could not do anything. Jackie was pacing up and down. The doorbell rang and in came the paramedics. They threw him on the floor and poked him with needles and tried to revive him. I kept asking them is he dead? Is he dead?.... but they would not respond. They put him on a stretcher and took him out of the apatment. Jackie said she would go with him. I said I would follow in a cab and why I did not leave with them I do not know.
The door slammed shut and I stood there alone in my apartment. It looked as if a tornado had swept through. There were syringes strewn all over the floor, living room chairs and tables overturned. Surgical gloves thrown everywhere. I looked around and could not move. I could not believe what had just happened. I said out loud to no one...." Mikey is dead!"
I was standing in my kitchen crying when the door bell rang. My daughter's best and closest friend was at the door. Jen had called her and told her to come right over and be with me. She lived right up the block. Rena walked in with a danish and a cup of coffee, hugged and kissed me, straightened out the furniture and said let's go to the hospital. When I arrived Michael was lying on a stretcher, in a room alone with Jackie standing by him. He was cold by this time and she was holding his hand. I asked the nurse at the desk for a priest. This was a Catholic hospital and I assumed one would be on site.
You see my brother was a very devout Catholic. He told me that ever since he was taken care of by the priests in a local parish that felt sorry for him when he was abandoned by our family, he felt very Catholic. And when he went to Korea is when he became even more religious. He said(to be continued)
Zindel Friedman Former Numbers Banker, Kills Self - pt 11
I am 11 years old, hiding out in Lena's room with the door closed. I have the Atlantic City Press spread out on her bed and I am clutching one of my father's shirts in one hand. It is the morning after I found my father dead on the basement floor and the headline has his name in it. I did not know he actually had killed himself, until I read the following headline:
"Zindel Friedman, Former Numbers Banker, Kills Self."
If anyone is reading this, I wonder, are you really interested? Why am I writing this anyay? What is it I want? To shock you with the tragedy of it all? Do I want your sympathy? Empathy? What exactly? Is this my own kind of self therapy? You would think I might be familiar with therapy but I am not as I have always resisted seeing a therapist. Not that I haven't been told I need one, especially by my husband, but I haven't just felt the need to do so. I do not get depressed and I am never tortured about my life or with particular problems of any kind. I know that I haven't been the best of Mothers and definitely not the best wife, and that I am sure, is because of my past, but I just have not wanted to..what's the point really?
I once went for a couple of sessions with one of my husband's therapists. She asked for me to come in so she could see us as a couple and after our session she suggested I come in alone. I did for about 3 sessions. After she asked me about my life she wanted to dwell on my earliest years. I would repeat the details including my Father's death, as if I was reciting a dramatic story and wanted to enthrall her. I always told 'my story' in that fashion. But every time I mentioned the boarding school I was raised in, "The Ventnor Private School", she would stop me and tell me to call it what it was, and that despite its' name, it was really a boarding house/orphanage. The word 'orphanage' would always make me cry when she said it. Although I had family, they obviously did not want me to live with them. At this I would always start to weep. After a few sessions of this I told her that I never cried about all of this before and I did not feel I had to start at this late time in my life. After all, I had had a successful career in television as a producer and executive with many Emmys in my name. I had raised a wonderful daughter and had good friends. I wasn't fantastically happy but I was ok with it all. So I ended the sessions with a "who needs this" thanked her for her time, and walked out.
Ok, back to the newspaper.
"Joseph (Zindel) Friedman, who died yesterday of what police described as a self-inflicted bullet wound, was despondent because of financial difficulties, according to close acquaintances"
...(to be continued)
"Zindel Friedman, Former Numbers Banker, Kills Self."
If anyone is reading this, I wonder, are you really interested? Why am I writing this anyay? What is it I want? To shock you with the tragedy of it all? Do I want your sympathy? Empathy? What exactly? Is this my own kind of self therapy? You would think I might be familiar with therapy but I am not as I have always resisted seeing a therapist. Not that I haven't been told I need one, especially by my husband, but I haven't just felt the need to do so. I do not get depressed and I am never tortured about my life or with particular problems of any kind. I know that I haven't been the best of Mothers and definitely not the best wife, and that I am sure, is because of my past, but I just have not wanted to..what's the point really?
I once went for a couple of sessions with one of my husband's therapists. She asked for me to come in so she could see us as a couple and after our session she suggested I come in alone. I did for about 3 sessions. After she asked me about my life she wanted to dwell on my earliest years. I would repeat the details including my Father's death, as if I was reciting a dramatic story and wanted to enthrall her. I always told 'my story' in that fashion. But every time I mentioned the boarding school I was raised in, "The Ventnor Private School", she would stop me and tell me to call it what it was, and that despite its' name, it was really a boarding house/orphanage. The word 'orphanage' would always make me cry when she said it. Although I had family, they obviously did not want me to live with them. At this I would always start to weep. After a few sessions of this I told her that I never cried about all of this before and I did not feel I had to start at this late time in my life. After all, I had had a successful career in television as a producer and executive with many Emmys in my name. I had raised a wonderful daughter and had good friends. I wasn't fantastically happy but I was ok with it all. So I ended the sessions with a "who needs this" thanked her for her time, and walked out.
Ok, back to the newspaper.
"Joseph (Zindel) Friedman, who died yesterday of what police described as a self-inflicted bullet wound, was despondent because of financial difficulties, according to close acquaintances"
...(to be continued)
Family reunion in Utah- pt 10
So here we are in Utah, at David's brother's house, where a complete spread has been laid out in our honor. Jen and I find ourselves surrounded by total strangers, most of them Mormons because they are David's family; brothers, sisters, children. And these were my new cousins! One woman, cousin Helen, daughter of my Mom's sister, Thelma, decided to come also. I gathered from the low murmurs, that she was a hell on wheels in her youth. She flew in from California just for this reunion. The moment I saw her I saw my Mother Ruth. She too had blonde hair and she was petite just as Ruth was. We hugged when we were introduced, and I almost got blown away by her whiskey breath. She was raised a Catholic and it was at her house that Elaine was sent to live once. I know Elaine had some uncomfortable memories from her time living there and at first she did not want to see Helen. Seems Helen was cruel to Elaine when she moved in with her family. They were both close in age and up to that time, Helen was an only child, used to getting all of the attention and all of the presents. It was Helen who blurted out to Elaine that it was only because her Mother, Ruth had died, that she was now in Helen's house. Up to that very moment, Elaine did not know our Mother had passed away. Leave it to children to be the cruelest.
When Jen and I walked in the house I could feel all eyes on us. I could hear their brains thinking, so this is Dolores, our long-lost cousin. The cousin David found. The daughter of our aunt Ruth, the Rumba dancer and the Jewish man that had been in prison and had killed himself.
Food had been laid out on a long table outside in the back of the house. Sandwich meat, chips, that kind of stuff. Jen and I were despserate for a good stiff drink or a glass of wine until I remembered where I was. Soda would have to do.
We talked in groups, with the women somehow separated from the men. David's brothers were there of course, these also being my new first cousins; and their wives and in a few cases, their daughters also. I asked a lot of questions, especially about health issues. I wanted to know if there were any illnesses that were shared by the women as I had no idea at that time what the medical history was on my mother's side. I knew heart failures, arterial disease and and high blood pressure ran on my Dad's side. But no one had cancer and yet I had breast cancer not all that long ago. So I wanted to know for my sake and for the sake of my daughter.
I did not like what I heard. There was a lot of diabetes, including my sister Elaine, and heart problems and hormonal problems, some of which Jen shared. Not a terribly healthy group.... but no cancer, yet!
Finally it was time to go. Jen was flying back to Los Angeles and I was going to goe to Utah and stay at David's house with he and his wife Kathy for a few days more. He promised to take me to see the 'real' polygamists that lived right where he did in Hurricaine, Utah and I couldn't wait.
At the end of the party, David played a DVD that he had made, including old photos of family members, Ruth and even Elaine and Jennifer and I were included.Then he gave Jennifer, Elaine and myself a gift bag with homemade fudge, his specialty and.....the Book of Mormon.
I knew it was just a matter of time.
When Jen and I walked in the house I could feel all eyes on us. I could hear their brains thinking, so this is Dolores, our long-lost cousin. The cousin David found. The daughter of our aunt Ruth, the Rumba dancer and the Jewish man that had been in prison and had killed himself.
Food had been laid out on a long table outside in the back of the house. Sandwich meat, chips, that kind of stuff. Jen and I were despserate for a good stiff drink or a glass of wine until I remembered where I was. Soda would have to do.
We talked in groups, with the women somehow separated from the men. David's brothers were there of course, these also being my new first cousins; and their wives and in a few cases, their daughters also. I asked a lot of questions, especially about health issues. I wanted to know if there were any illnesses that were shared by the women as I had no idea at that time what the medical history was on my mother's side. I knew heart failures, arterial disease and and high blood pressure ran on my Dad's side. But no one had cancer and yet I had breast cancer not all that long ago. So I wanted to know for my sake and for the sake of my daughter.
I did not like what I heard. There was a lot of diabetes, including my sister Elaine, and heart problems and hormonal problems, some of which Jen shared. Not a terribly healthy group.... but no cancer, yet!
Finally it was time to go. Jen was flying back to Los Angeles and I was going to goe to Utah and stay at David's house with he and his wife Kathy for a few days more. He promised to take me to see the 'real' polygamists that lived right where he did in Hurricaine, Utah and I couldn't wait.
At the end of the party, David played a DVD that he had made, including old photos of family members, Ruth and even Elaine and Jennifer and I were included.Then he gave Jennifer, Elaine and myself a gift bag with homemade fudge, his specialty and.....the Book of Mormon.
I knew it was just a matter of time.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
THE LAKE Sisters Finally Meet -pt. 5
Sweet Cousin Michelle, David's daughter. I cannot wait to meet her. How could I put off meeting a brand new actual blood relative, directly related to my mother? Less than two weeks after our phone calls, I am on my way to Boston.
For the whole train ride I kept worrying if she would like me, if she would accept me and if her family would find me strange. After all I was this 'new cousin' that their Mom's Dad had located. They heard I was Jewish and that my life had been very different from theirs. Michelle had heard that my Mother was a professional rumba dancer, and all about my Father's shady life, and that I was obviously born out-of-wedlock, as they used to say. And on my part, I had never known Mormons before and I did not know what to expect. I was concerned. My friends said they were kidding but I don't think they were, when they laughingly warned me to be careful or they 'the Mormons' would try and convert me. They said that was the Gospel of all Mormons and I should be wary.
Just like some backward bible-belt Christians thought Jews had horns coming out of their heads, I too had some ridiculous notions as to what I would find. Prejudice, which I thought I had not a scintilla of, came rearing up it's ugly head.
When I arrived in the train station, I went outside to look for her but not knowing what she looked like without anyone standing there waiting for me... I started to panic. I tried to call her on my cell phone but realized I did not have her number in my phone. What I did have was the number of another cousin that called me as soon as she had heard I had been located. Cousin Marian, sister of David. She had called me as soon as she heard the news and told me she loved me as and could not wait to meet me in Utah at the coming reunion. She told me she had prayed David would find me as soon as she learned from Elaine that she thought she had a sister. Marian speaks with love in her voice, honest to God, she really does. When she told me she loved me, I knew she did. You can hear it in every word. Marian gave me Michelle's phone number and as I started to dial it, I saw a large white wagon stop in front of the station with a smiling young woman with dark hair waving to me. She knew me and I knew her. I hopped in the car and off we went to her house.
As the children came home from school, each was introduced to me and each showed me around the house, and the grounds and were terribly polite and charming. Michelle offered to take me to Staples so we could get copies of materials she had she thought I would be interested in and to make copies of my birth certificate and Ruth's death certificate for her files. We stopped so I could get a coffee and that's when I learned that she not only did not drink coffee, but nothing with caffeine in it at all, and of course, no alcohol of any kind. I was slowly learning the Mormon way. In the printers section we told the clerk our story and he could not stop asking us questions.
When we got home, the kids were asked to help prepare dinner and set the table which they all did. Before we sat down to eat, Matt had not yet come home from work, Michelle asked one of the girls to say Grace. Now I have had heard Grace said before, of course, having eaten many meals with my non-Jewish girlfriends and their families....but this time it really floored me. Little Kylie, her oldest girl, whom I think now is ten, and also shares a birthday with me of June 5, said Grace and thanked God for the food on the table and some other things that are all a blur now and then wrapped it up with, "And Thank You God for bringing our cousin Dolores into our lives and being part of our family now."
That did it! Tears, as usual and as everyone said Amen, I reached over and hugged and kissed Kylie. I told her that was the very first time anyone had ever included me in their prayers of Grace and I would never ever forget it. I asked her Mother if she had prompted her to do so and Michelle said "absolutely not". And I believe her!
When I returned to NYC that night, I was filled with confirmation that I indeed had a new family, that they loved me and I would love them forever.
Next, Elaine and I plan her visit to New York. No way we could wait until April. So in February, the day of the football finals between the Giants and the Red Sox, Elaine and3 of her daughters, arrived at my doorstep. Michelle also came down from Boston, because she wanted to meet Elaine, and had only heard about her from her father, David after he found her 5 years earlier. I had a small welcoming party with just a couple of friends who knew my story. When I opened the door, Elaine and I stared at each other, hugged, kissed and cried. At last, the Lake sisters are united!
put photo here.++++
For the whole train ride I kept worrying if she would like me, if she would accept me and if her family would find me strange. After all I was this 'new cousin' that their Mom's Dad had located. They heard I was Jewish and that my life had been very different from theirs. Michelle had heard that my Mother was a professional rumba dancer, and all about my Father's shady life, and that I was obviously born out-of-wedlock, as they used to say. And on my part, I had never known Mormons before and I did not know what to expect. I was concerned. My friends said they were kidding but I don't think they were, when they laughingly warned me to be careful or they 'the Mormons' would try and convert me. They said that was the Gospel of all Mormons and I should be wary.
Just like some backward bible-belt Christians thought Jews had horns coming out of their heads, I too had some ridiculous notions as to what I would find. Prejudice, which I thought I had not a scintilla of, came rearing up it's ugly head.
When I arrived in the train station, I went outside to look for her but not knowing what she looked like without anyone standing there waiting for me... I started to panic. I tried to call her on my cell phone but realized I did not have her number in my phone. What I did have was the number of another cousin that called me as soon as she had heard I had been located. Cousin Marian, sister of David. She had called me as soon as she heard the news and told me she loved me as and could not wait to meet me in Utah at the coming reunion. She told me she had prayed David would find me as soon as she learned from Elaine that she thought she had a sister. Marian speaks with love in her voice, honest to God, she really does. When she told me she loved me, I knew she did. You can hear it in every word. Marian gave me Michelle's phone number and as I started to dial it, I saw a large white wagon stop in front of the station with a smiling young woman with dark hair waving to me. She knew me and I knew her. I hopped in the car and off we went to her house.
As the children came home from school, each was introduced to me and each showed me around the house, and the grounds and were terribly polite and charming. Michelle offered to take me to Staples so we could get copies of materials she had she thought I would be interested in and to make copies of my birth certificate and Ruth's death certificate for her files. We stopped so I could get a coffee and that's when I learned that she not only did not drink coffee, but nothing with caffeine in it at all, and of course, no alcohol of any kind. I was slowly learning the Mormon way. In the printers section we told the clerk our story and he could not stop asking us questions.
When we got home, the kids were asked to help prepare dinner and set the table which they all did. Before we sat down to eat, Matt had not yet come home from work, Michelle asked one of the girls to say Grace. Now I have had heard Grace said before, of course, having eaten many meals with my non-Jewish girlfriends and their families....but this time it really floored me. Little Kylie, her oldest girl, whom I think now is ten, and also shares a birthday with me of June 5, said Grace and thanked God for the food on the table and some other things that are all a blur now and then wrapped it up with, "And Thank You God for bringing our cousin Dolores into our lives and being part of our family now."
That did it! Tears, as usual and as everyone said Amen, I reached over and hugged and kissed Kylie. I told her that was the very first time anyone had ever included me in their prayers of Grace and I would never ever forget it. I asked her Mother if she had prompted her to do so and Michelle said "absolutely not". And I believe her!
When I returned to NYC that night, I was filled with confirmation that I indeed had a new family, that they loved me and I would love them forever.
Next, Elaine and I plan her visit to New York. No way we could wait until April. So in February, the day of the football finals between the Giants and the Red Sox, Elaine and3 of her daughters, arrived at my doorstep. Michelle also came down from Boston, because she wanted to meet Elaine, and had only heard about her from her father, David after he found her 5 years earlier. I had a small welcoming party with just a couple of friends who knew my story. When I opened the door, Elaine and I stared at each other, hugged, kissed and cried. At last, the Lake sisters are united!
put photo here.++++
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