Memory of My Father

My Dad

For me, Yochen/Dad was steady and constant. Watching and partaking in is daily rituals gave me inner strength and security as I was growing up. I am grateful for this strength which I resort to today. Really they are just simple things. For example, and much to our chagrin, let’s remember his incredible faith and earnestness to get his family to church every Sunday. He had wholesome habits, as far as I can recall. He was clockwork in the hour he got up and went to his office, to the time he came home, when he put his tar and paint stained work clothes on to get back to work with his hammer and nails. He was always building, always creating and he never stopped dreaming! His family was a part of that dream. Before work, he would go to shake dice with his buddies at the Midway Cafe and at lunch time, he would always come home and invite me to share a bowl of Campbell’s mushroom soup. So we would pour the soup and he would energetically crumble crackers into his bowl. If it was summer and sunny and warm he would take his ritual dip into the pool at 12 noon, before returning to the office. I would wait every day for him to come back at his predictable times and at the end of every day when he returned, I was there and he would say to me, “George, whata ye know? You ole sock, ole bean, ole snake in the grass.” My conversations with him were not that lengthy in life but that was part of the beauty of it. He was always there for me and he is still here for me today, in my heart. I hope all my brothers and sisters have similar good feelings and memories of our father. Love you, Dad!

One thought on “Memory of My Father

  1. Thanks, Georgianna. You should post this to Facebook, if you haven’t already. Beautiful. Because it’s a Sunday, a couple of the things that I remember so fondly are Yochen reading the Sunday paper, cooking pancakes at the outside picnic table and going to Twins games in the afternoon.

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