Today is March 24.
Let's be reasonable. Nobody could live to 111 years. Yet, I always think of him as what would he say if he were here, what would he think of me as a man.
He was devastated when I left from home. I was just twenty years old, a student and not fully matured. I braved a new life where I anchored myself and never really looked back.
My Father and I never lost touch but unfortunately we never had the chance to meet again and He never had the chance to know me as a responsible adult.
In 1958 there was world's fair in Brussels, Belgium which my Father visited. I wanted to go there very badly. At that time I was advised that my current refugee status did not permit foreign travel. I was heart broken.
He passed away in 1961 and me being a temporary resident here I had no opportunity to travel at that time either. Also Hungary being under a socialist government did not allow travel for unreliables like me.
It was a great loss for me. He was a calm, loving, very knowledgeable and very likable person. Whoever met him liked him instantly. Might that be at his job or amongst his friends. His circle of friends included people he grew up with or went to school with. He was a good loyal friend to all.
My father was one of, the middle, three sons of a poor Jewish tailor. I know everyone' father was a poor Jewish tailor but in this case it is true. I knew my grandfather and I know he was poor and that also he was a tailor.
Yet, he raised his three sons to become professionals. Two became engineers while one became an architect.
Unfortunately two were killed during the Holocaust and my Father was the only one who survived.
Towards the end of the war he worked as a construction worker in a housing project in Budapest. Laws at the time forbade Jews to work in any professional capacity.
When the time came that he was about to be deported he escaped and made his way back to this construction site. It showed how much he was liked by his fellow workers because they hid him, brought him food and never divulged his where being.
Thanks to them he survived and was reunited with us when the Budapest Ghetto was liberated.
Ironically, after the war he became the general superintendent for that housing project.
He loved his family. His two brothers left two wives and three sons behind. He cared for every one of them and tried to help their lives whenever they needed it.
I am not celebrating His birthday one day a year. I think of him every day of the year and sometimes even ask for his advice or approval.
Don't think I'm nuts. I just miss my Father.
He was devastated when I left from home. I was just twenty years old, a student and not fully matured. I braved a new life where I anchored myself and never really looked back.
My Father and I never lost touch but unfortunately we never had the chance to meet again and He never had the chance to know me as a responsible adult.
In 1958 there was world's fair in Brussels, Belgium which my Father visited. I wanted to go there very badly. At that time I was advised that my current refugee status did not permit foreign travel. I was heart broken.
He passed away in 1961 and me being a temporary resident here I had no opportunity to travel at that time either. Also Hungary being under a socialist government did not allow travel for unreliables like me.
It was a great loss for me. He was a calm, loving, very knowledgeable and very likable person. Whoever met him liked him instantly. Might that be at his job or amongst his friends. His circle of friends included people he grew up with or went to school with. He was a good loyal friend to all.
My father was one of, the middle, three sons of a poor Jewish tailor. I know everyone' father was a poor Jewish tailor but in this case it is true. I knew my grandfather and I know he was poor and that also he was a tailor.
Yet, he raised his three sons to become professionals. Two became engineers while one became an architect.
Unfortunately two were killed during the Holocaust and my Father was the only one who survived.
Towards the end of the war he worked as a construction worker in a housing project in Budapest. Laws at the time forbade Jews to work in any professional capacity.
When the time came that he was about to be deported he escaped and made his way back to this construction site. It showed how much he was liked by his fellow workers because they hid him, brought him food and never divulged his where being.
Thanks to them he survived and was reunited with us when the Budapest Ghetto was liberated.
Ironically, after the war he became the general superintendent for that housing project.
He loved his family. His two brothers left two wives and three sons behind. He cared for every one of them and tried to help their lives whenever they needed it.
I am not celebrating His birthday one day a year. I think of him every day of the year and sometimes even ask for his advice or approval.
Don't think I'm nuts. I just miss my Father.
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Yonkers Raceway is in Yonkers, New York. It is not far from where we live, maybe a half an hour drive. Next to the Raceway they built a casino, the Empire Casino, that is operated by the State. There are no table games strictly slot machines. But of those they have over five thousand.
They advertise this establishment on TV all the time. Interestingly in the ads they show entertainment like bands and singers and hip young, clean cut people around the machines.
And this where the fantasy ends.
Now the reality.
Jerry Lewis' Telethon doesn't have as much handicapped people as they have in that casino. The visitors are primarily elderly or unemployed and without exception they all look schmucky.
The band that played had an average age of 70. I can see why they play long instruments so they can lean on them when necessary.
We heard from friends who went there at night that at that time the crowd is even worse.
So, what one can learn from this. Don't believe advertisements. They are just like the government: they lie.
How misleading TV commercials are!
Yonkers Raceway is in Yonkers, New York. It is not far from where we live, maybe a half an hour drive. Next to the Raceway they built a casino, the Empire Casino, that is operated by the State. There are no table games strictly slot machines. But of those they have over five thousand.
They advertise this establishment on TV all the time. Interestingly in the ads they show entertainment like bands and singers and hip young, clean cut people around the machines.
And this where the fantasy ends.
Now the reality.
Jerry Lewis' Telethon doesn't have as much handicapped people as they have in that casino. The visitors are primarily elderly or unemployed and without exception they all look schmucky.
The band that played had an average age of 70. I can see why they play long instruments so they can lean on them when necessary.
We heard from friends who went there at night that at that time the crowd is even worse.
So, what one can learn from this. Don't believe advertisements. They are just like the government: they lie.
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