<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824568676595093809</id><updated>2011-11-03T02:54:45.065-07:00</updated><category term='Bronx borough'/><category term='Rodman'/><category term='Lexington avenue IRT'/><category term='news:queens and Bronx'/><category term='Tiffany'/><category term='irt'/><category term='mass transit'/><category term='Bronxnet'/><category term='P.S.48'/><category term='ind'/><category term='queens and Bronx'/><category term='Robert de Niro'/><category term='pre-unification'/><category term='model trains in Bronx'/><category term='Baretto street'/><category term='Faile Street'/><category term='solace pictures'/><category term='the borough of the Bronx'/><category term='BMT'/><category term='Bronx elevated'/><category term='Ziggy stardust sports cafe'/><category term='Spofford Ave.'/><title type='text'>Bronx Stardust Autobiography</title><subtitle type='html'>Autobiography was written over a period of 6 years. Bronx Stardust is  posted here is only part of a much more comprehensive encyclopedic account of my life. From this initial work I have extracted and composed memoirs and authored other works including  20 years in Saudi Arabia and the Holy Spirit in Saudi Arabia.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6824568676595093809/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bfbdesk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15529253259895575783</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SEBjcOpyvrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hxjk2gz1PYM/S220/BarieDubay_00.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824568676595093809.post-693651310255098134</id><published>2008-05-30T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T14:37:57.138-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='P.S.48'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pre-unification'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faile Street'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the borough of the Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ziggy stardust sports cafe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tiffany'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spofford Ave.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solace pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rodman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronx borough'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert de Niro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baretto street'/><title type='text'>History: Bronx Stardust</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;History:&lt;/span&gt; Bronx Stardust&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;by&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Barie Fez-Barringten &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;www.bariefez-barringten.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;As stardust is the particles in the environment so is Bronx Stardust about the bits and pieces that are falling from bigger bodies. These are the fragments of and left overs from main issues, bodies and lives of the times. These are the crumbs from the table where you can only imagine the weight, substance and ingredients of the main dish. The real story has already been lived, the real place is already remodeled and reconfigured so all that remains is the stardust left behind and un-noticed by the the ebb and flow of social forces. If these are the crumbs we can only wonder what was the meal. If this is the stardust what was the heavenly body. As scince gathers the strdust I have gathered my recolections of the details of time, place and a space labeled the Bronx.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My Parents Home &lt;/u&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;These were the early years; from the time I was born until  student days at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pratt Institute&lt;/span&gt;. The sociological character of the neighborhoods I lived with my family was all urban.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoFooter" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" face="lucida grande" style="font-weight: bold; margin: 0in -58.5pt 0.0001pt 2in; text-indent: -2in;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbuoqekDsnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v-ULFBPfjVs/s1600-h/IMG_0411.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313025633125905010" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbuoqekDsnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v-ULFBPfjVs/s320/IMG_0411.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;Although I wanted to move to Long Island my mother refused. My father and brother were in agreement but my mother wanted to be in &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The City&lt;/span&gt;. The sub-urbs seemed a fatal exile that she detested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" face="lucida grande"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46vJTJII/AAAAAAAAAFY/2E0nD34P9yU/s1600-h/IMG_0417.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313043504641025154" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46vJTJII/AAAAAAAAAFY/2E0nD34P9yU/s320/IMG_0417.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hoe, Home , Faile, Simpson and finally Holland Ave&lt;/span&gt; are where we moved instead of the sub-urbs because it was close to CCHS, had trees and a variety of European  people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46f2AjXI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oRGxmgR0gBM/s1600-h/IMG_0382.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313043500533583218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46f2AjXI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/oRGxmgR0gBM/s320/IMG_0382.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; My mother lived on Holland Avenue till she died in 1985. The move to Holland Ave. did change the culture of our family because it coincided with my high school days, my mother’s accelerated work schedule, and my father’s increased time with his new family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" face="lucida grande" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46B2DYZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/U99gosCTm08/s1600-h/IMG_0416.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313043492480704914" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu46B2DYZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/U99gosCTm08/s320/IMG_0416.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;But there was more , radio was replaced by television, the stage shows ceased, Italian, Greek music, etc. moved into the background in favor of modernism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu47XPqaTI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ZWIFZ3o9hq4/s1600-h/IMG_0421.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313043515405134130" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sbu47XPqaTI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ZWIFZ3o9hq4/s320/IMG_0421.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;There was a mood which  had a disdain for the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbuoqYfCQsI/AAAAAAAAAEw/u2ijX3oO_7c/s1600-h/IMG_0404.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313025631494226626" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbuoqYfCQsI/AAAAAAAAAEw/u2ijX3oO_7c/s320/IMG_0404.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" face="lucida grande" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/automat,%20baby%20snooks,%20drake,%20fort%20apache,%20history,%20hunts%20point,%20italian,%20kress,%20metaphor,%20mission,%20moldavia,%20ps%2020,%20ps%2075,%20radio,%20saudi%20arabia,%20ymca" rel="tag"&gt;Automat, Baby Snooks, Drake, Fort Apache, history, Hunts Point, Italian, Kress, metaphor, Mission, moldavia, PS 20, PS 75, radio, Saudi Arabia, YMCA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="CITE"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6824568676595093809-693651310255098134?l=barryfeiss1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/feeds/693651310255098134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6824568676595093809&amp;postID=693651310255098134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6824568676595093809/posts/default/693651310255098134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6824568676595093809/posts/default/693651310255098134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/2008/05/bronx-stardusthistory_30.html' title='History: Bronx Stardust'/><author><name>bfbdesk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15529253259895575783</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SEBjcOpyvrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hxjk2gz1PYM/S220/BarieDubay_00.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbuoqekDsnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v-ULFBPfjVs/s72-c/IMG_0411.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824568676595093809.post-7315673696700818420</id><published>2008-05-30T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T09:18:02.413-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news:queens and Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pre-unification'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the borough of the Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronx elevated'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ziggy stardust sports cafe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='model trains in Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solace pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronx borough'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert de Niro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronxnet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mass transit'/><title type='text'>Bronx Stardust;World</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8IJB1msnI/AAAAAAAAA3s/viC7n9hHu78/s1600-h/IMG_0409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8IJB1msnI/AAAAAAAAA3s/viC7n9hHu78/s200/IMG_0409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363514632426664562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;br /&gt;Worlds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by Barie Fez-Barringten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;www.bariefez-barringten.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;As stardust is the particles in the environment so is Bronx Stardust about the bits and pieces that are falling from bigger bodies. These are the fragments of and left overs from main issues, bodies and lives of the times. These are the crumbs from the table where you can only imagine the weight, substance and ingredients of the main dish. The real story has already been lived, the real place is already remodeled and reconfigured so all that remains is the stardust left behind and un-noticed by the the ebb and flow of social forces. If these are the crumbs we can only wonder what was the meal. If this is the stardust what was the heavenly body. As scince gathers the strdust I have gathered my recolections of the details of time, place and a space labeled the Bronx.&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8HxVftZiI/AAAAAAAAA3k/W9kKRPBkwHg/s1600-h/633+Faile+Bronx+Hunts+Point.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8HxVftZiI/AAAAAAAAA3k/W9kKRPBkwHg/s200/633+Faile+Bronx+Hunts+Point.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363514225386677794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Angel: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;As boy of seven during world war two, while sleeping in my bedroom in our apartment on Faille Street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;, God sent his angel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; . She said God loved and watched me and not to be afraid.  I had been tormented by children who worshiped Satan. He sent His &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Holy Spirit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; to show how big I really was and not to fear evil in the midst of evil people and nightmares sent from Satan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; This was during world war two .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; About forty years later in 1985 I was baptized into the Holy Spirit, called to be an instrument of healing and see God’s hand changing the lives of people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb0rPZhxLgI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Rcgn9E0sQTA/s1600-h/12282008baries+birthday+c%2B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb0rPZhxLgI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Rcgn9E0sQTA/s320/12282008baries+birthday+c%2B.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313450678917606914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I consider all that I do not see “the unseen”, and, assign what I do not see to either God or Satan; and, I consider Satan the enemy of God, and, therefore my enemy. Furthermore, I do consider that which I do see to likewise fall into these two categories; good or  evil; of God or of Satan. With one big distinction: every thing that is of God is real whereas whatever I see that is evil is deceptions of Satan, and is evil, separate and not from God. However, since the seen is by my own senses which I choose to see, I consider that evil and apart from God and my sin, and,  sin as being a separation from God by what I choose to see in disobedience of God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; This is a dualism of parallel worlds within the very same circumstances, contexts, and events; and, often with the very same people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/cgi-bin/bible?passage=ROM+8:1&amp;amp;language=english&amp;amp;version=KJV&amp;amp;showfn=on&amp;amp;showxref=on"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Romans 8:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who &lt;u&gt;walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; is both in the seen and unseen in and of this age and,  timeless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;and,  is both righteous and unrighteous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;It is spiritual, carnal and manifests itself in artifacts, icons and dreams. It is a melody, painting and is in what we do and say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8PGClWtnI/AAAAAAAAA40/k5JQNPHavNw/s1600-h/PS+48+Bronx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8PGClWtnI/AAAAAAAAA40/k5JQNPHavNw/s200/PS+48+Bronx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363522277668730482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; is a shared context consisting of a single world glorified by the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Bronx Bombers&lt;/span&gt;” which was then the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New York Yankees&lt;/span&gt;, The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Transit Systems&lt;/span&gt; included trolleys, buses and elevated trains, buildings, streets,  sidewalks, corridors, stairways, elevators, cockroaches ,rats ,mice ,etc. We shared both community and privacy in a world orbiting around our age and its' special music. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Bronx&lt;/span&gt; was everything great about Manhattan except it was affordable and cutting- edge. Many would say we shared vulgarities , dialect and clichés to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ad nauseoum&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; was a collection of affordable experiences, cheap thrills, and whatever was good we got it first. We always had the feeling that the markets gave us the best, and before anyone else in the world got them. We shared the disdain the world had of us and thumbed our noses at their lack of good taste and discernment. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Bronx&lt;/span&gt; shared building-types and tenements, and a peculiar kind of mixed density, building types ,neighborhoods, ethnic mix that "new urbanest" wish and plan but rarely achieve. It came about naturally as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;stardust &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;collects from the universe from all parts and all kinds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; is the world of diversity and the charm of vulgarity at the brink of discovery becoming authentic and genuine. There is nothing superficial about a Bronx person or context. It is a place where talent and genius incubates and brews but rarely blossoms. It is why the Bronx is so special because it is a microcosm of the disparity, counteractions, complexity, diversities, and chaos of the rest of the planet. Truly, if you can make it in the Bronx you can make it anywhere. The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; is both a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;nightmare and a dream enjoyed by people living out side of mainstream defying anything while adapting to dissonance, harshness and all that is terrible and beautiful . Viruses , germs and harmful bacteria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;thrive while antidotes to overcome harsh realities proliferated including crazy and film flam amusements, novelties and decorations. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;We shared prejudices, small mindedness, provincialism, discrimination and yet love of every single neighbor and nationality on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;the planet. The Bronx grew people who have learned to live with both their peculiar differences while sharing their commonalities with people in situations quit disparate and ridiculous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;A portrait of my Bronx world includes family, home, neighborhood, jobs, schools, friends, schools, games and play, recreation, and the emotions, social strife and political events of my context. The world had landmarks and non-landmarks. The Bronx itself was a world within itself. Were it not for the trips out,  our world was provincial and closed on itself. Bronx's were inherently vernacular and place-specific depending on concrete, artifacts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;and relationships to survive and orbit socially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08b0ycpBI/AAAAAAAAAIw/w2tEJ0icE38/s1600-h/71190037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08b0ycpBI/AAAAAAAAAIw/w2tEJ0icE38/s320/71190037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313469584091423762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;When I think abut my life and its highlights I do think of the individual parts but it is the whole and the interaction of the parts that really intrigues me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;2 chronicles 32:19 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;19&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;They spoke about the God of Jerusalem as they did about the gods of the other peoples of the world-the work of men's hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Our context, cities and neighborhoods are the worlds in which I have lived that are as real now as they ever were .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I lived in a class of people with common characteristics  including &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;" class="CITE"&gt;the scientific, architectural, art, educational, bureaucrats, etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; The world of the intellect, upper classes, rich and famous, etc. God has given us moments to live in each of these worlds with neither vision  or pretense but in fact by profession, job and vocation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Luke 2:1&lt;sup&gt;1 &lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;In those days Caesar Augustus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;issued a decree that a census should be taken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;of the entire Roman &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In my own life all that I posses,  the lands I have lived and visited have become the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;world&lt;/span&gt; in which I live.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I will always carry the world of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;the Bronx into &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;other worlds &lt;/span&gt;that I visit. I am a Bronxite. My mom said: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you can take the man out of the farm but not the farm out of the man".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8IsB1kTmI/AAAAAAAAA38/jUDAB8ZWjvc/s1600-h/Wordgrams+and+Metaphoric+Building+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8IsB1kTmI/AAAAAAAAA38/jUDAB8ZWjvc/s200/Wordgrams+and+Metaphoric+Building+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363515233721929314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Secular life and its concerns: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="CITE"&gt;"a man of the world".&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In certain circles I have felt prominently conspicuous as earthly; connected with realities and grown-up worlds which alluded the people surrounding me. It seemed they believed that because of my life, origin, language, passport, nationality, skin color, beard, mustache, etc. that I could navigate and hold the key to understandings beyond their realm of experience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;In secular life as a man of the world&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;. In those worlds I visited with those inhabitants I tended to keep my other world as a closed poker hand fearing too much information would distract from our relationship.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My world consists of many worlds as the free flowing spirit that goes between one or another role, context, career, job, residence, etc. It comprised many whole and complete experiences. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; They were in large amounts; and did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;" class="CITE"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; me a world of good even though it was worlds apart from the normalcy that others in my family experienced. Normal being, one world with out neither change nor variation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;However, my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;world &lt;/span&gt;extended to many and in a way was thematic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; involving or extending throughout the entire world where we have been involved in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;" class="CITE"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;world class crisis and circumstances.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8JScQ-69I/AAAAAAAAA4E/nHI3sPJCUZQ/s1600-h/B.P.+Fantasy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 174px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8JScQ-69I/AAAAAAAAA4E/nHI3sPJCUZQ/s200/B.P.+Fantasy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363515893651270610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In my world there were many domains, places, issues and states which I still relate and have vested interests. As noted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Luke 4: 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The devil led him (Jesus) up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms (domains and worlds) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I think of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;whatever I have earned from this world as earnings out of the social, economic and financial systems in my context. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Luke 16&lt;sup&gt;9&lt;/sup&gt;I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;And this wealth, earnings and aggrandizement's’s are earthly and not spiritual. Yet they compose what surrounds me and is the baggage I carry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Luke 16 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11 &lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So if you have not been trustworthy in handling &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;worldly &lt;/span&gt;wealth, who will trust you with true riches&lt;/span&gt;  The spiritual world and the fleshly world&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;are complements and God’s necessity. It is &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in both that we thrive and bring from one to the other. We bring God’s will from the spirit and our decision to love and obey from the flesh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My world can be analyzed in complements and blends of worlds and sub-worlds happening simultaneously at one or another level at any given time. Or may be viewed as a color wheel with not only complements and opposites but also tangents and adjacent colors and values. In many ways my life has not fit one or another recipe but been more like gourmet food which is spicy, arrange very well but the result of artistic and imaginative intervention. The accidents that occurred depended on how the chef made the most of the situation and resulted in some sort of an invention and new dish. Our world has been much like the chef who both by design and good creative skill meets his pallet and given ingredients with good taste, judgment and character. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My life itself has been a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; of wolds resulting in the creation of its own &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; and world. Unique and original with a form all of its own. It is a world of multiple religions, lands, cultures, tastes, sin, virtue, holiness and vulgarity. My world is memories, imagination and concepts of experience, people, music, etc. It is wide in scope and dimension. I learned in design and planning to widen my abilities to organize systems, programs and policies which govern the physical and material. There is the other political and religious life consisting of political parties, religions and poverty. The true reality of my world is limited and bound by my own capacity and effort to imagine and commit myself to do what it takes to survive and fulfill God’s mission.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Ji6mfpfI/AAAAAAAAA4M/_M6ka4qfdQs/s1600-h/B.P.+Fantasy+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Ji6mfpfI/AAAAAAAAA4M/_M6ka4qfdQs/s200/B.P.+Fantasy+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363516176672466418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Exhuming my past Anomie and fond memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;From childhood I knew that “man” remembers his past, animals do not; they repeat their habits. They eat and eat, and then begin again. . This is their nature. Man’s nature is to experience one thing and then remember it. Once remembered he may choose to repeat it as part of his life style and cultural habitat. The behavior then becomes his cocoon, habitat, inner circle, turf security zone and place where he can orient himself. I too knew that one may feel alone in a crowd. I could sense separation and distance while with family and loved ones. Change and dislocation were not the only reasons for discomfort. Was I really the person defined by others? I questioned my authenticity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Someone in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; no longer has &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt;, values and symbols in common with society. The person is alienated and disassociated. His &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; have been stolen ,disappeared, removed and/contracted in a convincing way. The condition of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not right&lt;/span&gt; and outside of what is right may be considered &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anomie&lt;/span&gt; and alienation are related whereas an alien I may know my identity I realize that I have no agreements and contracts within my realm where &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomi &lt;/span&gt;I am in the disconnected context but I don’t know who I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In other words I have neither authenticity nor authority.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8KLw8j6NI/AAAAAAAAA4U/IyniwrbLB1A/s1600-h/Copy+%282%29+of+Sheep+Market+in+Thugba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 131px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8KLw8j6NI/AAAAAAAAA4U/IyniwrbLB1A/s200/Copy+%282%29+of+Sheep+Market+in+Thugba.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363516878455302354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I am a person conditioned for anarchy who adopted conformity to survive and succeed. I am an artistic entrepreneur who found himself in school house prisons of the forties and fifties. I contrasted the repetitious, inane conformity with individuality, anarchy creativity and intellect. I often choose not to repeat and I also remembered intricate and large details about the past, which I could easily describe to my parents and awe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;delight and shock &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;friends.  I could remember what others and I wore;  the decorations and locations of the places we visited; people's names, background and most phone numbers and addresses. I did not need a written list of names and numbers; I carried them in my head. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Albert Einstein noted how inherently “stupid” was all of mankind for this trait. The trait that compels men to mindlessly repeat behavior over and over without thought, rhyme or reason. He likened us to the lowest life forms that do the same things predictably to get food, etc. Of course he included himself and his behavior as part of this phenomenon. I knew it was all very stupid and had to be interrupted. I must face that while I threw away my abhorrent past and many intermediate contexts they are now fond memories and affections, which linger and bring me great pleasure to recall and resurrect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8PeA-nhSI/AAAAAAAAA48/uY4Jzq3HgwY/s1600-h/IMG_0368.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8PeA-nhSI/AAAAAAAAA48/uY4Jzq3HgwY/s200/IMG_0368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363522689554679074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Add innate distrust and compulsive skepticism and you have a continuous sense of not belonging and misfit in most situations. I sought companionship, alignments, familiarity and likeness. I usually found competitiveness and challenge. The familiar contexts in which I inhabited rejected and openly confounded trusts with betrayals and disagreements. Hostility and distrust were the ambiance in which I found myself on the streets, school and at home. The few trusts I had were fragile and disassociated. My later marriage to Christina was the first trust for which I could be certain. As alienation due to distrust so alienation separated and kept me from the alliances that could have built bridges of partnerships and development. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8KpbWavWI/AAAAAAAAA4c/bF-y43O5EBY/s1600-h/Copy+of+Look+of+the+Endtimes+by+Barie+Fez-Barringten+044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8KpbWavWI/AAAAAAAAA4c/bF-y43O5EBY/s200/Copy+of+Look+of+the+Endtimes+by+Barie+Fez-Barringten+044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363517388054248802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anomie&lt;/span&gt; is a personal state of isolation and anxiety resulting from a lack of social control and regulation including a possible lack of moral standards in a society. It includes states of disorientation and a definite sense of alienation and distancing from normalcy and average working of society. Nothing one does seems to have any contexts or make any sense because the boundaries and gyroscope keeping the social norms from flying into space are gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; For most of the period in my childhood I had the awkward sense of being an outsider.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In fact, for most of the cases I was an outside because we changed our residence and with that the change of schools and the neighborhoods surrounding the schools.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08cK_cJqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Ku6u4bwWf1g/s1600-h/71190006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08cK_cJqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Ku6u4bwWf1g/s320/71190006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313469590051497634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I learned &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; at a very early life and had no concept in which to cloak and understand what I was experiencing. But it was the rift and disruption due to change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  It was also, due to outside changes occurring in our society due to the war,rationing, depression, re -socialization and of course my parent’s failed marriage and father’s development of his career and eventual successful business. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I had the sense that I did not fit into the class at school, on the street in the neighborhood or amongst the gangs on the block. I only felt at home with Milty, some friends and later with girls. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Music, records and radio provided the continuity focus and sense of belonging and legitimacy missing from the real world. It is no accident I saw my first and only career move to go into radio broadcasting, not as a profession, but as a life. It was where I lived!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I did not know it then but I was suffering from social instability caused by erosion of standards and values. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; This was accompanied by alienation and purposelessness as a result of a lack of standards, values, and ideals: I was suffering from something more than &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;adolescent anomie&lt;/span&gt; and rage. It is only in retrospect that I can begin to define and give what I experienced both shape and form. East Germans we met before and after the wall fell spoke of the mistrust of each other and the alienation to Germany, family and themselves. Every one felt alienated. This was the Leipzig we found in 1989,1990 and 1992. It is the Germany we know today which is still recovering from alienation of its own identity and sense of place and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt;. I wrote a book called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Exhuming Leipzig"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; from 70 years of neglect&lt;/span&gt;. It was much more emotional and pathetic than what I could tell and write. It was not only one but many cities and families have lost themselves. Even  their children born in this time are alienated within their own families not knowing the trust that comes from a loving  family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;This shape and form came to me from  Emile Durkheim, a French sociologist who introduced the concept of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; in his book &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Division of Labor in Society&lt;/span&gt;, published in 1893. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;He used a&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nomie&lt;/span&gt; to describe a condition of deregulation that was occurring in society. His, not my society.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;But it turns out that my family and I were suffering from the same phenomenon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Lz0UeyhI/AAAAAAAAA4s/mHkrFU404ow/s1600-h/Christina+860+Fiftth+Ave+Manahatten+Clair%27es+Bldg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Lz0UeyhI/AAAAAAAAA4s/mHkrFU404ow/s200/Christina+860+Fiftth+Ave+Manahatten+Clair%27es+Bldg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363518666067331602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;This meant that rules on how people ought to behave with each other were breaking down and thus people did not know what to expect from one another. The element of surprise, disorientation and vulnerability pervaded our time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Neil Diamond in one of many fine songs expressed everything about anomie in the following lyrics of “I am, I said”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;“L.A.'s fine the sun shines most the time,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and the feelin' is lay back,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Palm trees grow, and rents are low,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;but you know I keep thinkin'&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;'bout makin' my way back&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Well, I'm New York City born and raised&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;but nowadays I'm lost between two shores.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;L.A.'s fine but it ain't home&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;New York's home but it ain't mine no more”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8LZ5WCTBI/AAAAAAAAA4k/1IYRXNkUNzk/s1600-h/IMG_0300.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8LZ5WCTBI/AAAAAAAAA4k/1IYRXNkUNzk/s200/IMG_0300.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363518220739431442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;By now most of those reading this work will realize that Neal Diamond’s story is mine as well. It might also be yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Owing to the success and popularity of the song there must be many others suffering from this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic state&lt;/span&gt;. In fact he expressed in one song what Durkheim and the others have said in several of their essays and books. Works which make metaphors and compare one thing with another. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My friend, John Jackson explained how much of classic literature’s purpose was not what was said, but the manner and divergence of the writer to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lead you away from reality&lt;/span&gt; into an another world of contemplation and delight. An experience I have had with many of our classic books some written by Samuel Johnson. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; This understanding coupled with William J. Gordon’s &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;synectics&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;making the strange familiar&lt;/span&gt; has led me to another way of thinking and understanding my conversations with Saudis, Indians, Pakistanis, Koreans, Chinese, Europeans, etc. They express themselves “tangentially’ and “circuitously” where the telling and experience of speaking and the language is enjoyed by both speaker and listener. This is the art of delightful conversations where one enjoys the presence and animation of another human being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In my Yale lecture series &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;architecture as the making of metaphors&lt;/span&gt;,  and in his book William J. Gordon teaches how to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;make the strange familiar&lt;/span&gt; though games and plays so that we are able to learn and conceive of our lives in a different way. He teaches people to talk about one thing in terms of another. To see science from an artist point of view; to study medicine from using construction vocabulary, etc. In other words, to use “other words” to describe what we are doing so that which is familiar becomes strange and understood in a different way. He calls it the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;“the Metaphorical Way of Knowing”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Knickers and short Pants:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Mom bought me knickers and short pants and dressed me daily. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I recall dressing differently from  all the other children. Few wore cloths as nicely chosen, ironed and cleaned as mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I was always impeccably dressed. My appearance was one of my mother’s proudest accomplishments. She especially liked dressing my brother in navy suits and shorts with his blond and curly hair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  This was the ideal. There were lots of ideals and many of them came form Europe. I recall feeling the tweeds and the smell of the cloths as my mother would fit them and dress me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The streets were sunny and clean. We’d ambulate to the grocery and shops. She would take us visiting friends and relatives dressed ever so nicely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The “flaming youth” of the roaring twenties, however became but memories as the global depression deepened. It was in this time that I came of age to wear these cloths and my Mom was determined not to let a silly thing like this war hamper my youth and its' moment. All of this was before the so-called juvenile delinquency of the fifties. My brother would ask my parents what this meant and they would simply explain it as kids that are bad, meaning that we were not. No, what every my mother thought of me, it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; as a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;juvenile delinquent.&lt;/span&gt; I was not! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;However a culture obsessed with youth was emerging. Culturally, the division and line between naivete and maturity were being defined.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Talk was about to shorten childhood. I remember, not using bad language around my parents for fear they would perceive me as grown up. The same with smoking. All to protect the relationship between me as a child and them as the gown ups. It was what both of us wanted. Then to be the parents and us the children. It was the essence of the age of innocence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;It was the same when I was leaving junior high school: I asked my home room teacher, Mr. Cohen, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;if&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I could remain in his class next year and not graduate to which he replied that although he was flattered that I must learn to go on and take the best from the present and look forward to matuirng. He was very kind. Independence and empowerment surrounded the times but I was really happy being my parent’s child. I soon learned that dependence, irresponsibility and naivete were dangerous and dysfunctional. I just believed that the changes did not have to be neither as cataclysmic nor as dramatically clipped as they eventually became. However, this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; happened and prepared me for the coming &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; anomic epidemic&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic&lt;/span&gt; drive where we are socially disoriented &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic loners&lt;/span&gt; musing over our fate was only complicated because we lived in an age of rootless alienated people. It exacerbated our every decision and stressed our daily choices. But it led from one context and effort to another as we sought the relationships that will fit and welcome us home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Indeed the craving for the “&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;homey&lt;/span&gt; with welcoming aura “was a welcome context to a shipwrecked vagrant or castaway" .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I can recall going to parties, walking on streets and working in offices feeling alienated and out of place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The historic &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic&lt;/span&gt; moments in my life started with my brother’s birth and the shift of me being the center of my parent’s attention to sharing that role with my brother including sleeping alone and the nightmares that followed. I was unprepared to leave the co-dependence of my identity I had to my parents and did not have any learned identity of my own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The start of the war was no less an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; as it came on the heels of my brother’s birth and while I slept alone in the living room the air raid sirens, spotlights in the sky and the black outs loomed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; When I was nine and it was announced that the Russians, too, had the “A” bomb, I was greatly in stressed, disoriented and confused. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I recall the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; we experienced in New Haven during the race riots and particularly the march that paraded in front of our house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Kessel says that one of the first areas Durkheim applied &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; to was the shift of an essentially rural-based feudalism to urban industrial modes of production as my grandparent’s shift from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rhodes and Romania to the USA&lt;/span&gt;. This explains their reticence and disdain of their ancestry, heritage and silence in my childhood. To them it was enough to speak with disdain and keep silent about their place of origin and ancestry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My parent’s marriage with one set of expectations and the actual experience with another set of realities brought my mother into &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic shock&lt;/span&gt;. Would this not have happened the burdens she carried and complained could have been born and joyfully coped? One &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; led to the inability to handle the others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Explaining why many anomies of dislocation, change and relocation can be handled with ease and joy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; In this regard Kessel continues Durkheim’s message was, in short, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“change happens” and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;anomie &lt;/span&gt;is a result as well as a causal factor in more change happening. It is more than a domino but more like a basis for chaos in which the first act is irresponsible, capricious and whimsical.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In fact I believe, as Durkheim and Kessel, that we live in an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomic reality&lt;/span&gt;. A perennial Alvin Toffler, “Future shock”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; And, finally a kind of prophesy confirming the bibles prophesy of these end times Kessel says:” While there have certainly been wars, big and small for a long, long time on this earth, recent events have called forth...given rise to...emerging anomic states on all levels...and very well may turn out to be the most unprecedented. The “twists and turns” of this are by no means. Kessel speaks of the on-rushing anomic state of this planet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Kessel adds, “but 9/11, as we so euphemistically call it, has had a ripple effect of anomie almost unbelievably so. The excruciating details of the event, which were fed to us like a massive force-feeding, flooded over us and gave rise to a questioning of almost every single aspect of our lives.... A whole world...has had to struggle to “normalize” itself in spite of the persistent anomie...well; ANOMIE is now the norm, in effect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;I have played social “tag” all of our lives:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;where tag is a children’s game in which one player pursues the others until he or she is able to touch one of them, who then in turn becomes the pursuer. It is a process, which goes on, and on until both sides decide they have run out of time or energy; where one child chases the others; and the one who is caught becomes the next chaser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;We have pursued society and our place in it while society has prevailed upon us and so on. Our context, city, social fabrics, politics, and religious affiliations have evolved and been replaced. We too have often been a square peg in a round hole being conservatives in a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;New York Democratic World &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;amongst liberals when we were ideologically anything but. We were constitutionalists not progressives yet in favor of decentralized and small central government. It always seemed we were living in the wrong places with the wrong people. Not for status, prestige, or vanity but often ideological, cultural or political. It is hard to talk about Jesus to your best friends who are atheists and about aesthetics to bankers and politicians. About gourmet cooking to parents of six children and about world travel to a farmer. Many of our context have been humorously ridiculous and ironic and radically absurd. However, by the grace of God we were able to adapt, adjust and find God’s way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was neither an atheist nor agnostic but a person earnestly seeking access to God. This dualism and seeming contradiction in integrity and truth is the reality of my identity and who I really am. A person with contradictions and complexities. Very human fallacies in commitment and at home in ambiguities that become laws and norms. The fact is that there was a truth in me that I could not express so I denied what I knew to be untrue so that I could find the truth in a yet unknown experience I was to have later in life. In so doing I lived in an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; and was at times a stranger to my self.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In his essay called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Anemic America”&lt;/span&gt; David H. Kessel says about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Durheim and anomie that Durheim simply meant...”normlessness.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; And further about anomic people that, “they are...or have been...weakening as the standard by which to exist...so much so that people feel “lost,” uncertain, anchorless as to what’s going on. Sociologically, people love their routines, their patterns of behavior, their usual ways of thinking and interpretation, in short...“order” or even more to the point, their “normal” reality. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Anomie Kessel writes results from a transition from one to another society, and in my case from Faille Street to Simpson. Durkheim really delved into this transition in his work:” &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Division of Labor in Society” &lt;/span&gt;which echoes the many work on the industrialization process and change that I have discussed elsewhere. The extraordinary thing that I have discovered is that there are different kinds and degrees of anomie depending on their context and what has caused them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Some are natural and in according to God’s will, while other are cataclysmic and deviate from God’s will. Others seem to blend from one into another also resulting in differences and not being stressful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Kessel continues,” Divorces create anomie...in fact, divorces themselves are anomic when the norm is marriage, or simply to stay married. One partner may be thinking one thing while the other another. One then sues to end the potential contract because there is no longer agreement and the two are not “in one &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;accord”&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;color:black;" &gt;Dropping atomic/hydrogen bombs creates &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt;. There is a potential for a complete end to all things, as we know them. Even a mere &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;change of jobs can be anomic&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; My greatest concern throughout my career has been that when my work in one or anther firm was complete and I had to announce this to my wife. She was not really concerned about the money, though that was mentioned; it was the potential that our context, life-style, and venue would be different. Our &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; would be corrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08dt-tBbI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/gEVsrU3L1CE/s1600-h/IMG_0356.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08dt-tBbI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/gEVsrU3L1CE/s320/IMG_0356.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313469616623519154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;And Kessel says that Durkheim postulated that many suicides, but not all, was the result of anomie. Riots may be considered a consequence of anomie...and then, the riots themselves create more anomie. The examples could go on and on...on all levels of reality...macro, meso, and micro. But not all anomie is “crippling.” as it were. Many of us, in countless ways, adjust fairly quickly and smoothly to anomic states of being...as the new norm emerge and take over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;At parties of which I was not a member I felt like a stranger. Everyone knew why they were there and was part of the happiness and social fellowship except me. I was set apart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I noted in Saudi that many of the expats arriving in Saudi were unaware of how they were disconnected from their own culture and folkways and habits. It was not that Saudis was  the cause of their stress and anxiety.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;One of the favorite medical prescriptions by doctors was “valium”. It was the cure-all for most complaints. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I recalled the many train rides through Europe conversing with both men and women in so many different languages. Meetings, tours and parties. The hundreds of times I sat in offices listening but not understanding when  Arabic was  spoken. And, then repeating the experience in India, Puerto Rico and so many other countries. I got the feeling as I watched the film &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lost in Translation&lt;/span&gt;, that I never want to do this again. The prospect of going through that experience again unnerved and upset me. It seemed it produced the most stress of all the time I spent abroad. Yet,  on a recent work assignment to Doha, I was extatic to be back in that context once again! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Being a stranger!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;There were times when,  like King Saul of Israel, one feels cut off and alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;It is times like this that one's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie&lt;/span&gt; is in high gear. As Saul called for David to serenade him so do we call for pop singers, media, culture to fill the vacuum created by the loss of self and identify when we feel anomic. Saul responded to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;quickening&lt;/span&gt; of the Holy Spirit reminding him that he was out of God’s will and needed to pray and obey God. We are not any different, but instead we often turn to media and media culture to supply us with an identity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Technique and the Reckoning of my Life:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;From the very time I began to eat, speak and walk I have learned to perceive and attend to how I must act, operate, and manipulate my body, senses, and brain to produce some sort of result. Behavior and conformity to norms and accepted formalities were applied but not to any extreme. Devilment behavior on a grand scale was prohibited, but familiarity and brutishness were acceptable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I found most linguists were not interested in what was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how to make a metaphor&lt;/span&gt;; they instead were interested in enjoying, perceiving, appreciating, interpreting and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finding meaning in metaphors&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;They wrote and studied on interpretive theory and specific interpretations of literature, paintings, and music. It is what I do when I read and interpret the bible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; From this difference I learned that I am interested in aspects of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors &lt;/span&gt;and other things; both the creative and the non-creative.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;For example, there are many things I enjoy without involving myself in how it is created such as food; music; flying; etc. Yet there are other things I have not studied which I am interested in how they are made. It is the experience I have had in Technê that I apply to new circumstances in which I have no experience. Yet I now can appreciate persons who are not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"techne"&lt;/span&gt; persons in the same fields and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;techne&lt;/span&gt; in any field. We used to refer to these people as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dilettantes&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;However, I find this too severe, because I myself am a dilettante in many things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Things in which I enjoy, perceive and describe without knowing how it is made. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;However, it is revealing in this work  to describe my experiences with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;techne&lt;/span&gt; in a variety of subjects:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; with such a techne mind it is possible to see the world in terms of opportunities to learn and apply techne to meet the challenges and complete a mission. I have learned with a little planning and description of the tasks and the criteria of the work I can complete what is necessary to fulfill a job description.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I train and respond well to training and discipline. I enjoy learning new techniques and technologies. I realize that it is necessary to change, grow and develop and techne is the tool I have to access new contexts, opportunities, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I am also concerned with Speaking, Pronunciation, Diction, Nice talk, Fencing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Jumping on trampoline, Yoga, Printing, Reading music, Playing tuba, Playing ukulele, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;making metaphors&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Eating&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I instinctively enjoyed using cutlery and would have favorite spoon, knife, fork etc. I learned to use them to even eat watermelon, fruits, etc. I liked using tools rather than my hands to eat. I learned how to cut, carve and divide my food into morsels and then gobble them down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was always a fast eater.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My mother taught us to eat but was not overly concerned with society’s social manners. We often ate with our fingers certain food such as chicken. From grandma I learned to eat spinach and rice out of the pot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Breathing&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I learned the technique of breathing when I was four at the "Y" from my swimming instructor and then in public school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;As a swimmer I'd hold my breath and then while under the water slowly let the air out, as I stayed submerged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In this way I could go for long distances and for nearly two or three minutes submerged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In bed I could keep my posture and lungs expanded by keeping my head back and breathe deep to get a lot of oxygen. Later my speech teacher taught me how to breathe from my diaphragm to keep the air in my lungs for a very long period so I could recite long lines with lots of control on tone and pronunciation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Mimicking&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;the sounds, accents, intonations and words of others to portray characters and recall scenes of movies and characters heard on radio, seen in movies and sung on records. I had the ability to almost simultaneously hear and repeat what another was saying, speaking and singing as they were uttering there sounds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Driving&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;steering, braking, turning, accelerating, braking and all not to upset or unnerve passengers or pedestrians and other drivers. So my father taught me so that when I'd derive passengers as a chauffeur, the passengers would be comfortable and happy. Driving smoothly and without jarring or causing passengers to lean to the left or the right was the goal. Certainly when braking not to make sudden stops or lurches when accelerating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;And, not to drive aggressively and weave in and out to make the passengers over anxious and upset. The idea in driving as with speaking is calm, nice and pleasant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The same as when drives to speak nicely and calmly while driving in the same manner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;And, letting passengers realize that you are calm, cool and collected and have complete and total control over the car, the road and their welfare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;That you and the vehicle can be trusted. No matter how bad the weather may get, the traffic or the aggressiveness of other drivers or the traffic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The technique was the thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;                                                &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bronx Dreams: (2,433) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Christina and John Jackson told me that a dream that includes rooms, stairs, and connections between rooms was a dream about life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In fact a rooms dream was a metaphor for life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was also told by someone that life is like a car; that a dream of a car is a life’s journey. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;“Old men will dream dreams.........................................”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I have recently learned that dreams are places in which we live. In dreams we find truth and a substitute for the physical and cerebral we experience when awake. When I dream I am in myself in a place I may neither like or dislike but posses and know as familiar because it is occurring within and by me. It is the ultimate sovereign act and not the privilege of anyone else to infringe or control . It is what I can do and be in places of my own choosing and away from the influence of the world and its systems. God can reach me in my dreams where he may not when awake. He can give me what He will without me resisting what He wishes me to have. He can heal me while I sleep, not only physically but heal my soul. He can feed my soul with His love and unseen. The  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Holy Spirit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; can display God as He is without the contrivances of the senses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;As songs and voices from media and relations dreams are companions when I sleep. They comfort and guide. God uses dreams to impart His message when we are too busy in the day to hear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Childhood dreams of Flying Wings:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Thousands of flying wings in the sky during blackouts during WWII similar to HG Wells ”flying wings and fleet of “Sky Captain and World of Tomorrow.( "The Flying Wings Attack" is a lengthy 6.5-minute cue that gets the heart racing.)” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;In 1844, U.S. commissioner of patents Henry L. Ellsworth famously quipped: "The advancement of the arts from year taxes our credulity and seems to presage the arrival of that period when further improvements must end." More than 150 years later, our credulity may still be taxed by the latest advances in science, medicine and exploration, but new discoveries and inventions show no sign of coming to an end including 2020 Flying wing aircraft are able to carry 1,000 passengers up to a distance of 9,000 kms at average speeds of 900 km/h. This dream was vivid and repeated itself for several years. Later when I was the HG Wells movie with my fleet of planes I was astonished. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Dream: Staten Island Ferry&lt;/u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The ferry is landing on the Staten Island side to a port, which has closed and layered trap and holding area.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;They are dark and forbidding. The view forms the shore lined with skyscrapers with many lights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;There are so many ships in the bay that it is difficult to navigate. I can see the architecture of the skyline and the vertical layers behind the first. The ship I am on navigates around many other ships fist in daylight then at night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Space Ship to Planet Heaven&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In 2004 I entered a space ship which made an unplanned extended trip beyond our universe to a very powerful and private place. I discovered later that it was heaven. The ship staff did not know I was on board and when we returned to the changing station I boarded the normal vehicle and there after knew there was this special place. No one else knew where I was. I carried this potential in me and knew I could return there because I had been there. I felt a strong sense of being separate from others that did not know about this outer place. The dream was real and supernatural. I had an awesome feeling of real holiness, danger and adventure. The ship and its construction was tangible, steel, glass and it move as by light speed and very smooth. When I returned I opened my eyes and got out of bed knowing that this had really happened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Simpson street/July 10,2004 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I visited the neighborhood with Shirl from office and some others. We went onto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Southern Boulevard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; which I introduced as the best commercial shopping street in the world because of its many and varied shops and locations. We then came onto Simpson Street and to our ground floor apartment. A nice middle aged couple dressed like Midwesterner s and very hospitable and friendly occupied it. The apartment was aglow with light and the walls were close and the ceilings high. A wall in the living room had been relocated just as I had imagined it would be. There were many rooms and decorated with “modern” fifties high priced furniture in primary colors in amorphic shapes and colorful enamels. There direct access to the roof (which I noted was impossible because the apartment had been on the ground floor) There were liberties taken with the layout and additions were made. It seems that these additions were as to our current house in Florida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Simpson Street/mid nineties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The buildings have been discovered and renovated into Mediterranean-like well-designed and modern habitats. They never originally looked like the way they appeared in the dream, but in the dream I was sure they were not rebuilt to another design but looked like the way I now saw them. This is not so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;They were so interesting and reflecting the most desirable architectural concepts. The entries were in scale and each room opened into a court and let in light. My impression was that Simpson Street can once again be inhabited and we should move back there and prosper. I was disappointing to see what has become of the remodeled neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;House in park&lt;/u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The one room house has three walls and a face of glass in which we sit and gaze outward. There are neighbors with similar box dwelling and other that are multistory of a similar design. There are only a few trees; the landscape is sparse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Feb 2005&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;New York city walk in grid taking paths varied by going down one block to the end an up another and then across to another, etc. This kind of walk I actually made in NYC as well as many other patterns through the grid. I recall Chabrier, Sibelius, or Manual deFaila’s “&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Rhapsody Espana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;” when making similar walks in European cities. There was no music with this walk only an awareness of the crenelated type of walling patterns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;May 2005&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was visiting a hotel which had many areas, lobbies, exits, and entries. It was situated in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;the center of the city .I had my suits and proper cloths in one area but went through the building many area to an exit at a far distance than my own. I realized I could not depart until I had my suits so I tried to go around and find my way back . Realizing this would not work and have discussed this with other visitors and kind staff I determined to find my way by retracing my steps . It was difficult and tedious but I did and I found my suits and my original place. The day before we had a visit from Christina’s cousin from Germany and watched a movie titled “Garden State” about a man who returns to his home town. I also liken it to the process I am experiencing recalling information to use in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Stardust. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bronx Hope &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In the Bronx I had “old hope”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I knew however that something was missing and was not right. It was not until later I discovered that what I was missing was “new Hope”. It was in the old hope that all of my Bronx life was lived and explains my enormous concupiscence and cosmopolitan dexterity. This is the place where Bronx Stardust thrives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Ron Shlager now deceased explained in one of our bible studies that the greatest is “hope”. He was suffering from the severe aftermaths of a stroke and needed help in walking and most other activities. He championed hope over faith and love. That was nearly fifteen years ago and it is only until now that I understood Ron. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Tit 1:2 and 3:7&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; implies the full manifestation and realization of that life which is already the believer’s possession.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102); font-weight: normal;"&gt;Titus 1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;2 &lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, promised before the world began. And&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Titus 3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;7 &lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life. Ron believed that having the indwelling of Christ, the kingdom and eternal life is where we live. All his life he had been a practicing dentist and I am sure that now in his current infirmity realized salvation within is all that keeps him alive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;To a lost and suffering world, I divide the word of hope so that men can be separated from wickedness, despair, depression, sense of futility, anomie, and utter frustration. To be solvent that will wash away the scales preventing belief. Bronx Stardust both obliterated and prompted new hope&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I lived in all these places and gathered my self deciding, choosing and setting my self apart from the bigotry, intolerance, unfairness, and abuse of the world. As the children in Harlem’s planning district #11 challenged me for insensitivity and stupidity at displaying my white ,affluent person before them so the world displays itself without hope and rescue . Neither affirmative action, welfare, nor handouts will balance the haves with the have-nots but &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; in the face of adversity.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;The general feeling that some desire will be fulfilled in spite of my troubles I &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;never gave up hope. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was only &lt;span&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;which my expectations were centered. In the old hope of Bronx Stardust I’d &lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment. Of course it would never happen. The only thing we cold expect was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt; and but a lot more of something we could not understand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;color:black;" &gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;color:black;" &gt; carried potentiality of possibility beyond what we could see,feel or touch. It was the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;old hope&lt;/span&gt; but it was bounding with life, vitality and optimism . Optimism in the potential of our own &lt;span&gt;cosmic hope&lt;/span&gt; that lay beyond our reality. It was an &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;old hope &lt;/span&gt;for “&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new hope&lt;/span&gt;” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;confident and trusted God for that future.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;To looked forward with confidence or expectation: &lt;i&gt;We &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; that our children will be successful.&lt;/i&gt; I looked forward to that which I did not know or understand. It was my desire. I believe this is part of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt; that thrives in the cauldron of the Bronx. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I was driven by a &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;desire accompanied by confident expectation of its fulfillment. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is hope&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good news&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; and God’s promises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; Like what Jesus did with Legion: he cleaned, dressed and then sat him down and once completed then Legion could accept eternal life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;So my life in the old hope brought me to the point where I could know new hope. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=58&amp;amp;chapter=1&amp;amp;verse=23&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Colossians 1:23&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;If ye continue in the faith grounded and settled, and be not moved away from the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; of the gospel, &lt;/span&gt;which ye have heard, and which was preached to every creature which is under heaven; whereof I Paul am made a minister;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Two Hopes&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The bible and the dictionary are clear that there are many hopes and ways of hoping. As the below if there is a better hope then there must be a hope which is worse. The one, which is in the world and the other, which is in God. Where one is corruptible, dying and temporary while the other eternal, immortal, permanent and:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=65&amp;amp;chapter=7&amp;amp;verse=19&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Hebrews 7:19&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; did; by the which we draw nigh unto God.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102); font-weight: normal;"&gt;If there is a better hope there must also be a hope which is different and less valuable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Old Hope&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;God lives with all hope as he lives in all love healing and preparing his children to receive Him and have new Hope in eternal life in His kingdom, which is in each, who receive Him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=23&amp;amp;chapter=22&amp;amp;verse=9&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Psalm 22:9&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; when I was upon my mother's breasts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;Hope is our birthright and as life it is our choice to direct it toward God. God made us hope and we like many things learned to regulate ourselves to the world and its systems. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt; Driven by anomie I had survived and lived. So many times I had been decimated and survived. I had been a phoenix and it did me no good. I needed eternal life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;When done Jesus sent me to Florida  to found His church. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Transition from one to another Hope.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Eventually we realize the hope in the world is corrupt, disappointing, unreliable, passing, unworthy of investment, leaves us abandoned and empty and futile. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Proverbs 10:28&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt; &lt;sup&gt;28&lt;/sup&gt; The prospect of the righteous is joy,&lt;br /&gt;but the hopes of the wicked come to nothing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;No Hope&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=59&amp;amp;chapter=4&amp;amp;verse=13&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;1 Thessalonians 4:13&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=56&amp;amp;chapter=2&amp;amp;verse=12&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Ephesians 2:12&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;, and without God in the world:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Most of the world is without hope and lives in despair. They have a veil which covers and scales preventing them from seeing. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;New Hope&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;When I committed my life to Christ, I did so with the understanding that I was no longer subject to the whims and whiles of this world. I was employed by Christ and not the world. I had a steady and eternal career with Christ. I was soldier in his eternal army and one of his saints praising and worshiping him all the day long. I surrendered the old hopes of the world and its false promises and accepted the new covenant and all God’s promises. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=52&amp;amp;chapter=4&amp;amp;verse=18&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Romans 4:18&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who against &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; believed in &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;, that he might become the father of many nations, according to that which was spoken, So shall thy seed be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Best paraphrased as we are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;in but not of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;the world and that once we are saved we are in Jesus and he dwells within us. In this co-dwelling are the kingdom of God and the hope that we have for the is to come is already here in the substance that is our faith. That is faith is the substance of things hoped for so that the substance of the kingdom, eternal life, God’s presence is now because our faith is here and now. It is a lively hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=67&amp;amp;chapter=1&amp;amp;verse=3&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;1 Peter 1:3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=52&amp;amp;chapter=5&amp;amp;verse=2&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Romans 5:2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; of the glory of God.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;color:black;" &gt;By our own faith and our continuous and sustained decision we have access to god’s love and mercy which our reason to rejoice and not be the opposite which is depression, doom and gloom. The world hope was before and sufficed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;. The world is no longer enough. It is part but not all there is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=52&amp;amp;chapter=5&amp;amp;verse=5&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Romans 5:5&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;By abiding, testing, and living with Christ in the moment of our daily chores that what we trust in the future is confirmed today in the present. The present in which God’s love confirms His presence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=54&amp;amp;chapter=1&amp;amp;verse=7&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;2 Corinthians 1:7&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; of you is steadfast, knowing, that as ye are partakers of the sufferings, so shall ye be also of the consolation.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;With hope, we experience consolation from Christ and His Holy Spirit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; While hope is spiritual it affects the flesh. Like the peace which is beyond our understanding so hope is God’s will . Living in Hope we enjoy His peace and know His will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=51&amp;amp;chapter=2&amp;amp;verse=26&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Acts 2:26&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;. Hope is a place where we can rest and as equipoise find balance and tranquility. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/passage/?book_id=23&amp;amp;chapter=42&amp;amp;verse=11&amp;amp;version=9&amp;amp;context=verse"&gt;Psalm 42:11&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? &lt;span style=""&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;We must command our soul to be inclined toward God. It apparently is inclined toward the world and needs redirecting. It is we who must so direct our soul. It is not automatic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;Psalm 31:24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt; &lt;sup&gt;24&lt;/sup&gt; Be strong and take heart,&lt;br /&gt;all you who hope in the LORD.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;We&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;are not alone because we are amongst others who are likewise inclined to abide in God’s presence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;Psalm 33:22&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/resources/audio/play.php?aid=3&amp;amp;book=23&amp;amp;chapter=33" title="Listen to this passage"&gt;Listen to this passage&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt; &lt;sup&gt;22&lt;/sup&gt; May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD,&lt;br /&gt;even as we put our hope in you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Believe that Jesus is the hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt; In hope we dwell in God’s will and Love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;Psalm 33:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/resources/audio/play.php?aid=3&amp;amp;book=23&amp;amp;chapter=33" title="Listen to this passage"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Listen to this passage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt; &lt;sup&gt;18&lt;/sup&gt; But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him,&lt;br /&gt;on those whose hope is in his unfailing love,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 102);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Bronx Person:(3,961 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;{8,889&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;total words} (No footnotes)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Persone is from Latin’s persna for mask or role which we pronounce as person which is probably from the Etruscan phersu, which is to say, “mask”.&lt;/i&gt; To me it is the composite of characteristics that make up an individual personality, which we call the self.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The person is the separated, sovereign, distinctly identifiable and unique form of being. The things, which made complement and me unique my descriptions in “Persona” and “Personality”, are described below. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Masks define and separate but they also lure us to see the masks of others. As we have different masks and masks of our identity so do others. Artifacts, buildings and cities are masks and we look beyond to know the person of the mask. The apostle Peter was shown a vision of many different species in a blanket ultimately calling him to go beyond his world and touch others. We too are called to other persons to receive, touch and welcome them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As a cosmopolitan urban citizen any thing out side of my world was rural, bucolic, rustic and pastoral; very foreign; considerably inferior though extremely necessary; and where the rest of the people of planet were that needed the management and control of us urban folks&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They needed us and we needed them. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;They lacked sophistication and elegance (so did I). They and there environment were serene so I knew that I could never know serenity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I was forever doomed to a life of turmoil, chaos and strife. It was all I knew. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;After all I was the inhabitant of the greatest city in the world, the Empire State; no one contended that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In his book:”Cultural Rights and Civic Virtue”. Richard Thompson says that “policies designed to counter cosmopolitan alienation and anomie by fostering civic virtue, social trust and common social norms will inevitably conflict with the cultural traditions and sub group identification of some minority groups. Accommodation of any and all sub group cultural practices will make it difficult if not impossible to foster a common civic culture and social trust”.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My family did not find conflict to its traditions lost in the old country. They were glad to be in America and had little or nothing to say about their origins. Christina on the other hand really was in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;anomie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;and did everything to bring Leipzig into her life and the lives of all she met. I suffered an anomie amongst my piers for the little I knew and could discuss about my past ancestry and culture. It was either too shameful or criminal to mention. I had no idea and there fore lived in ambiguity and vulnerable to deceit. We enjoyed both being part of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Southern Boulevard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; while in the greatest city of the world. Hispanics and other Europeans prefer melding and adopting than being sub groped and isolated. I conformed to Thompson’s model by rejecting my sub-group as anathema for common social norms of the global wider society.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;There was no talk of hey, straw, scenic acreage, farms, forestry, and farm animals. That was “Old McDonald’s Farm”, not NYC.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I also knew I was not gentry because those people were no where’s near my neighborhood and where ever they were in my city was inaccessible. I could live with that. They were there and we were here. My parents did all they could to live in dignity and self-reliance. My Dad’s business eventually led to him serving such people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Of course when all of these began I had no preconceived image and ideal I later learned that Cosmopolitan is pertinent or common to the whole world; having constituent elements from all over the world or from many different parts of the world: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;" class="CITE"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;the ancient and cosmopolitan societies of Syria and Egypt and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;So sophisticated as to be at home in all parts of the world or conversant with many spheres of interest as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;" class="CITE"&gt;a cosmopolitan traveler.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I believe this definition fits me very well and describes my persona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I have lived with no fixed residence and at home in every place. I have an American passport but have become a citizen of the world and free from local attachments or prejudices; not provincial; and inherently liberal.This becomes less true the longer I remain in Florida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; My world is composed of people from many parts of the world and often especially not provincial in attitudes or interests with my various professions and skills of worldwide scope or applicability.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I had thought of my personality as my doom, handicap and curse. I rarely ever succeeded in any thing I knew of because of my winning “personality”. To the contrary, it was I was often told that caused relationships to end. As Paul confesses to the Galatians I confess that I have been too irate and often on unpopular sides in a world I barely have comprehended. I often have confronted, challenged and been wickedly distasteful. I often have hid behind talent, money, sexuality, and sensuality to cover poor judgment and distaste. I have pretended and unknowingly been on the “wrong” side. It turns out; I have learned that many of the problems I encountered could have been avoided had I given more effort to personality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Knowledge&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;It wasn’t until I was 19 and finally motivated to get an education that I even concerned my self with the value of knowledge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The vocabulary of urbanism was more than physical and collateral but also in the realm of ideas and philosophies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;It not only belonged to who men were but also who they said they were. I learned that claims to fame were to be even more important than character and proficiency. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;To go there I had to know what the options were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;What were the paths and vectors? I was like so many classes of people I would later teach and manage a life  in darkness and ignorance. I got a first hand dose of just how dark and ignorant I was the more that was opened and shown to me. But I was receptive and soaked it up like a sponge. I did “nowhere” want to be “somewhere”. I was in a world where every one knew what was “up” except me. Remember, this was the mid fifties before the age of TV and computers. I was and urban provincial steeped in mundane and parochial dogma and clichés. My vocabulary was learned from the street, music, radio and comic books. Brilliant!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;People such as Gerald Popiel, and, later Gene Kaletsky and Christina became my tour guide and ushered me around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; It was wrenching and socially dangerous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I had to shut old doors and open others. I was learning how to be “right”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was developing my urban mindset and becoming an urban citizen. I also was being defined by the media and adopting to a multimedia and global world. My skin and outward expressions were coaxed and prompted by telephones, radio, records, fast cars, electricity, cars, airplanes, trains, etc. The persona that accompanied these attitudes was also changing. My improvisational humor, ability to “rap” and pour our fluent concepts without regard to concept was fading. I began to meet and measure my words and meanings. Shortly I consumed and regurgitated the dictionary. I was ridiculous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Some encouraged and enjoyed what I was doing. They were few and far between.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I began to seek knowledge for knowledge sake. I tried to memorize the dictionary. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I found my self-being an intense student. My facial expressions, wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows exuded intense interest clinging to each word and syllable of my teachers. My personality was what I imagined the perfect and most sincere student would be. It was my new persona. The intense student. I passionately wanted to be edified, built up and filled. I entered “on-empty” and left “over-flowing”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;European travel fed my soul and built me up. Education, travel, cultural activities, Music, Ballet, concerts replaced my illusive identity with a continuum of libretto by which to express my person. It was the content and I the media. I thought what I absorbed and expressed what I digested. I learned to mimic and mime. This was my “persona”. It was stressful and intense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I was apparently interested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; I wanted what everyone else had including skills, identity, viability, rightness and access. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;My imagination was excited by hearing me speak my own words. I could be very narcissistic once I had absorbed the libretto. When I hear what I spoke I could imagine what I described. This talent made me a gifted teacher, speaker and storyteller. I could actually imagine what I was describing. This was my persona person with imagination who would glibly share and conjure conversations to communicate ideas and excite the imagination of others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I could do this because I was a very good listener and really empty and needing to be filled. Once filled I gushed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Entertainment excites my imagination can translate words into drawings and I can draw to create pictures and ideas to which I can give words. When faced with a design program I begin day dreaming and night dreaming imagining and designing. My imagination is sparked when I preach, speak, draw, and imagine. Things happen when I communicate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Culture: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;While in the Bronx and before I was 21 I choose to be a cultured person characterized by mental and moral training; disciplined; refined; well educated. I am able to&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;sense of beauty in nature, even among cultured people, is less often met with than other mental endowments.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Definition"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Culture' and 'civilization' have been often used synonymously, though they have clearly defined meanings differentiating them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08coVnOEI/AAAAAAAAAJA/XrgLl6km-Zs/s1600-h/BarieCHRISJun2008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sb08coVnOEI/AAAAAAAAAJA/XrgLl6km-Zs/s320/BarieCHRISJun2008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313469597929125954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Definition"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Culture' refers to the inner man, a refinement of head and heart. One who may be poor and wearing cheap apparel may be considered 'uncivilized', but still he or she may be the most cultured person. For 'culture' concerns itself with the inner refinement of a person. This includes arts and sciences, music and dance and various higher pursuits of human life, which are also classified as cultural activities. One possessing ostentatious wealth may be considered as 'civilized' but he may not be cultured. Therefore when we deal with cultural yardsticks, we have to make clear our definition of 'culture'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Definition"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://technorati.com/tag/air%20raid%20sirens,%20alvin%20toffler,%20angel,%20anomie,%20athiest,%20cohen,%20cosmopolitan,%20culture,%20durkheim,%20future%20shock,%20god,%20knickers,%20leipzig,%20met" rel="tag"&gt;air raid sirens, Alvin Toffler, angel, anomie, atheist, Cohen, cosmopolitan, culture, Durkheim, Future Shock, god, knickers, Leipzig, met&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6824568676595093809-7315673696700818420?l=barryfeiss1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/feeds/7315673696700818420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6824568676595093809&amp;postID=7315673696700818420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6824568676595093809/posts/default/7315673696700818420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6824568676595093809/posts/default/7315673696700818420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://barryfeiss1.blogspot.com/2008/05/bronx-stardustworld.html' title='Bronx Stardust;World'/><author><name>bfbdesk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15529253259895575783</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SEBjcOpyvrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hxjk2gz1PYM/S220/BarieDubay_00.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8IJB1msnI/AAAAAAAAA3s/viC7n9hHu78/s72-c/IMG_0409.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824568676595093809.post-9122676115282394633</id><published>2008-05-30T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T09:23:47.590-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pre-unification'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='queens and Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the borough of the Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronx elevated'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ziggy stardust sports cafe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='model trains in Bronx'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solace pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert de Niro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronxnet'/><title type='text'>Bronx Stardust;Family Metaphors</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjddifr0I/AAAAAAAAAzU/aW1gNLlSbqc/s1600-h/IMG_0427_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjddifr0I/AAAAAAAAAzU/aW1gNLlSbqc/s200/IMG_0427_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356507795856273218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;Bronx Stardust &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Family &lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This part of my story is about&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;my parent’s families being from two different origins and cultures including our friends and relatives with their multiple ethnic and national diversity.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Mid-twentieth century &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx Stardust &lt;/span&gt;was a family-centered &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt;. We saw our context through the eyes of our family. The &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Stardust &lt;/span&gt;was connected to each person by family and family traditions, culture and distinctives. Families realized they were unique but that they were amongst other unique and peculiar families. We believed that it was our differences  which  itself was our common view of &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;what made the Bronx special. The Bronx was special because so many families  were different that resided on the same floor of a building, a building block and/or neighborhood . It was our own family sameness and our differences to others which made &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt;. We celebrated and boasted about our differences. Yet we defended our rights to be unique and blast the others who opposed  our cultural differences. Furthermore. we rejoiced over the contrasts and relished foreign tastes and desires. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;often resulted in gang violence, feuds ,shootings and abusive behavior. All of this churned the environment making our families huddle together to  find ways to relate and connect with other clans. As we churned ,fought and defended we gained tolerance while strengthening our own unique identity amongst other unique and special personas. It was sometimes a potters wheel while other times a fiery furnace.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My parents emphasized their respective families and our family made &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"family"&lt;/span&gt; a basic part of my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphorical &lt;/span&gt;and human vocabulary. As they did, I memorized each and every member's name. relation and their relative rank and age in each family. I knew my aunts and uncles and their children and each child and relation they had and could connect them and tell you about them in detail. Our family tree was etched in my mind. I have described them in detail as the context of my childhood. Later my dad would give me daily reports of my cousin’s whereabouts, marriage births and condition of children. It was the legacy and imprints my parents passed onto me and now able to pass on to others. It also gave me a great sense of being part of a context much greater than our clan and myself. It was a sense of familiarity and, vocabulary and recognizable traits that confirmed my identity and rightness with thin the world order. I had it and I assumed others had it as well. What I soon discovered is what I had in a great quantity most had in a very small amount. I also learned that some had “wealth in the family” and assumed stature while others a meager and paltry family. Others, I was surprised never would talk about here families or would speak with disdain of their family. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;However my family was a noteworthy family having one street named after&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;one of its members; another ran for president of the United States; another was a well known political journalist; and another assisted a supreme court justice and authored a law text book that is used in many law schools.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Families are what we remember about how we became who we are.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is the collective memory of our formation and the formation that preceded us. Family is the mnemonic recalling who I was with any one or anther person from the very beginning. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;By mentioning any one of them I remember my own feelings and relationships.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbwqdiGx6sI/AAAAAAAAAHw/3-0H592RF8E/s1600-h/B.P.Letter+Clime.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbwqdiGx6sI/AAAAAAAAAHw/3-0H592RF8E/s320/B.P.Letter+Clime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313168347250158274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Family bonding&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The bond to my parents by my brother and I was good and strong enduring my father’s infidelity and mother’s anguish. That bond may have explained the tolerance Saul and I had to this dysfunctional separation. The bond between my brother and I only strengthened as children where I’d care for him at night when both our parents were out and in the morning when I’d dress him and take him to school. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;B&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;lood that is thicker than water&lt;/span&gt;. The members are themselves the experiences that shaped our vocabulary, behavior, emotions, and knowledge.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At some point they were the world and every thing revolved around what they said and did.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What they thought we thought;  and,  our interpretation of what they said were the building blocks for our future.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They provided the voices, landmarks, visions, and lessons for future non-family interactions. It is our family in whose image we are framed and often judged by society. If you can tell a person by his friends, it is even more so with the family. It is said:&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; “The apple doesn't’ fall far from the tree"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;; yes, society definitely makes intuitive judgments about us from their impressions of the family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I that way it is important that we know and understand the family against whom we are measured and the model and mould in which we are cast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Qldy7A4I/AAAAAAAAA5E/g1Tjf8NUUqM/s1600-h/1.+Singspiration+%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 131px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8Qldy7A4I/AAAAAAAAA5E/g1Tjf8NUUqM/s200/1.+Singspiration+%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363523917060965250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For me, the extended family overcame the daily training at low self-esteem.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I still did not do well at school but I did strive to develop a persona and self-character modeled after the best members of my family. They would challenge and lovingly encourages me to go beyond the limitations of where I was. My Mom was the best at this! She would listen and react to every word I spoke and knew the motive behind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was quick and insightful.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The urban family is selective vs. rural family where everyone is with you; there is no where to hide. Urban cities are vast and families can easily find themselves in different neighborhoods and paths that will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8QzrVmquI/AAAAAAAAA5M/6c1h6Xw4tq4/s1600-h/Copy+of+11.Al-Foadia+Group+with+Barie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 131px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8QzrVmquI/AAAAAAAAA5M/6c1h6Xw4tq4/s200/Copy+of+11.Al-Foadia+Group+with+Barie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363524161214261986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Family&lt;/span&gt; is any group decipled under one leader. I was very fortunate to spend the time and know my father’s parents very well. Unlike most of my cousins I have a sense of being decipled by them and referencing my identity and the culture of all the off spring back to their identity and culture.&lt;span style=""&gt;I cloned their expressions, manners, inflections and appearance.   &lt;/span&gt;I also got to visit with their offspring and their clans for the first twenty years of my life and therefore knew the details of each clan. I could liken their diverse beliefs and differences between our family’s clans to a country like Iraq, Lebanon, Yugoslavia, etc. who seek to surrender there individual differences to a single identity. It was  a  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphoric&lt;/span&gt; process where the family had its own identity at the highest level, which consisted of sub identities at the clan level. We were a family under God spiritually and in the flesh under nations and parents;  and,  their parent's  ancestors and heirs. We had one vocabulary; one history; one covenant and one Bible.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This experience was the foundation of all the links I made to all other ethnic, national, linguistic cultures throughout the world. I could  relate to any family by the memory and lessons from my family. I could see my uncles, aunts and cousins in the Saudis, Lebanese, Syrians, Greeks, Puerto Rican, Spanish, French, German, etc. I could  hear my Grandmother's music and see her dance in every nation's folk dance and music. The strange became familiar. My family was my metaphor for everything that would follow. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;   They were the people who were there for you when every one else departed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were the ideas of what was valuable and precious and for whom every was measured.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are the profit from all our toils and efforts and the amorphic context with which we gauge our identity and  location in the cosmos and the measure of our physical vessel.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; In a family is where you learn consequences, values and behavioral patterns. Members criticize, encourage, judge, gossip, accept and reject. Families have characteristic appearances, behavioral patterns and traditions. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In my family I learned that there were consequences for the behavior or misbehavior of my self, parents or relatives. My parents would inevitably review the activities of their brothers and sisters. My father gave me a detailed account of each aunt, uncle and cousin. My mother’s account was less tedious because her family was smaller and when either loved and enjoyed their company; or,  ignored and would not discuss them. There were consequences to our actions with each clan. My mother would report that she had heard gossip from others about any visit or event we had with one from another.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Often complaints and judgments were not overt and direct but reported to one as gossip and then passed back to my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My father was reticent about any of these kinds of conversations and I would not hear form him about this. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Such complaints had to do with my misbehavior and my mother’s notorious passion for cleaning her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8RIpqkCjI/AAAAAAAAA5U/83LfYiqDP-4/s1600-h/KFU+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 127px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/Sm8RIpqkCjI/AAAAAAAAA5U/83LfYiqDP-4/s200/KFU+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363524521542552114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There was a definite love that my mother had for her sister Clara that rebounded back to my brother and me from that family. She also was very close to Sylvia and Julie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Values mean what is important. No doubt our family valued their homes but less to the extent of its location and status. Its furniture and furnishings, maintenance and order were greatly noticed and discussed. The depression, unemployment, lack of education, and street savvy was our family’s common denominators so no one was able to show off. However, there were still those who managed to find themes to vent their pride and snob one another. The manner of speaking either talking too much or abut others, overly caring about one’s new acquisitions, touting the accomplishments of one’s children and slandering others for there idiosyncrasies of which each family has many. My Uncle jack laughed to loud and harshly, Uncle Irving search your house when visiting,  Aunt Pauline was a recluse, to some all my father's brothers seemed vulgar and not to be trusted, and one of my aunts was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;too &lt;/span&gt;good for every one else, etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The cultural aspects of our family were embodied in the distinctive look of all my father's family's children and their siblings.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was thought to be a&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; look-a-like&lt;/span&gt; for my father.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was called &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"little Joe"&lt;/span&gt;. The behavior of my Father's clan was all predicated on their jovial life growing up amongst friendly blacks in Harlem.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This culture of Jazz, Zoot suits, cursing, vulgarities, sexual innuendos, etc. plagued all of them. It was the only thing all their European wife’s could agree. After a while it drove them apart hoping that by disassociation they could eck out some unique improvements for them and their clan. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;But while it lasted it was a cultural ideal focusing on my Grandparents dining table and weddings for the first ten years of my life. The culture oozed and manifest in dance, songs and language.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There  was expressions and words used only in the presence of each other. The love and passion between my father’s families was thematic, powerful and exciting. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother’s side was much more restrained and clouded by her sisters and sister-in-laws sympathy for my Mother’s plight with her unfaithful husband.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt; My Mother was not an inherently  good cook and learned from her sisters.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She read the “Redbook” and prepared recipes she’d learned. Indeed, we were a distinctive family with peculiar characteristics. One the tests all of my Grandmother's daughter-in-laws had to pass was the cooking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;red rice&lt;/span&gt;. Fortunately, my Mom got an "A".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmuwMzDxI/AAAAAAAAA0c/-VtjYAjfq84/s1600-h/Across+From+the+Paradise+Theatre.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmuwMzDxI/AAAAAAAAA0c/-VtjYAjfq84/s200/Across+From+the+Paradise+Theatre.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356511391458201362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Our characteristics were not always compatible with others and as a consequence when involved with others we tended to keep our mouth shut to surprises of family nuances. Nuances which included many nonsense expressions, prejudicial opinions, and silly expressions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since cursing was absolutely forbidden we were never criticized for our bad language. Our differences included celebrating Christmas;  working mother; father living with another women; being richer than many; me working; my tenacity; our mixed friends; our huge family; many automobiles; and finally my dating a wide variety of foreign  nationals and finally marrying a German citizen. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother would say:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;” you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your relatives”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It was a fatalistic view of the inevitable reality of whom and what we were. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Friends, she would say would not be there when the going gets tough, but you can count on family&lt;/span&gt;. The years of evil and dark realities wore away my dear Mother’s perspective. Finally, she was alone while I was traveling to so many places and died while I was in Saudi Arabia. Which is, I guess, the final lesson of family; the one that is with me these days, family needs work and commitment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is not automatic nor to be taken for granted. Family is precious and full of change and crisis requiring a mature and hearty spirit. I have always savored the spirit and blessing of my family’s peculiarities and wished for a kinder world, which would accept my family with their peculiarities and specialness. My mother was very open and culturally neutral. My Dad’s business required him to be receptive to a variety of types. But our family had its own peculiarities and culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Evidence; I look and hear myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When I am with members of my family and I look and hear them. My mind tells me we, they and myself, are of the same flesh, religion, culture, context, genes ancestry, etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  So, when I perceive their facial expressions, speech, demeanor, attitude, passions, intuitions, reactions, etc. I see my own values, attitudes and style. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is not a mirror nor is it a twin or a clone; it is rather a fulfillment of an imaginary sense of the other person’s likeness and potential genetic similarity to make the connection seem likely. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Every thing that is the best and worst incarnates in those conversations and interactions. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Longings to be accepted for being one’s natural self are fulfilled. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;We two are a like and match.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We have many similarities and significant differences. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; But there are important natural similarities.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some of the similarities may be favorable,others dissonant and one’s worth overcoming and burying. But they exist in a unique reality distinct from other realities I have experienced in the real world. I can see distinctions about them, as I must appear to them and to others.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I see my unique characteristics and because of what I see I come to better know who and what I am.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is a revaluing and intimate experience.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Family as metaphor/Origin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;family metaphor&lt;/span&gt; provides the identity of my origin, because the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; contains the origin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; the origin but contains the remnants, characteristics and information about the origin. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; By metaphor it is the link to the origin without being the origin. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It prevails over time and space, but links me to a past and potential future containing the seeds and essence of the genetic, generic and DNA birth. It is a valid worldly model.. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; metaphor&lt;/span&gt; tests and confirms physical, psychological, inherited and environmental effects of the same blood, similar environment, common parents, grandparents, and ancestors while environmental contexts tells us something about ourselves and reflects our persona.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Family gives us clues to our own genetic, blood and behavior code.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; about which we are innately curious; seduced to assimilate and know the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor &lt;/span&gt;in a way we cannot know other &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It defines the way we will know other &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; because it so primary an experience. It by this experience, the experience of knowing our family that we authenticate our experience of not only who we are by our first name but what we are; so, that we can become who we are by overwhelming our short comings and developing our strengths with both new and learned behaviors and spiritual rebirth.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Family; culture; relationship seeking nature. Cataclysmic change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vincent Scully&lt;/span&gt;, one of my former Yale professors, once described the American cultural distinctive, regarding its treatment of artistic movements, neighborhoods, landmarks and institutions as “cataclysmic”; by which he meant a violent upheaval that causes great destruction that brings about a &lt;u&gt;fundamental change&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In any case it is this which triggers &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anomie &lt;/span&gt;and alienation and the end for most of the displaced persons of this world. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I liken his descriptive label to the way my father and mother shrugged off their cultural heritage for that of the context in which they were raised. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My father, adopting Harlem, and my mother the Brooklyn Navy Yard neighborhood. While Christina adopted America as her home of preference she never lost her love and view of all things through a German perspective.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In a like manner I did the same by changing my given name and my prenatally given cultural identity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I did the same as my parents insofar as they took on their environmental context, but kept some of their family cultural vocabulary and trimmings. The distinctive characteristic they wore on their sleeve was not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rhodes or Austria&lt;/span&gt; but the USA. Their personality was American. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Christina is remarkably different. Christina carries her Germanic language and culture. However, she too has adapted to America's normative with joy. However, convenient and functional,  she still maintains her German national identity. She is in every way a European.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In this way,  she and I have a great deal in common. It is the basis of my love of radio and music.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is that neither of us really believed our parents did not love us very deeply nor we had to do something to relate. In my case I learned my Fathers and Mwereother s love of music, special words and dress. In reflection I believe that I memorized the music and words in order to win favor and contact with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later, I just extended this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;modus-operendi &lt;/span&gt;to others. It became a relationship tool, a way to meet and converse. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Christina believes that for whatever reason, European composers, writers, actors and movie producers were so prolific in my childhood that they shaped my personality. It was to them I escaped, learned and found advantage and benefit. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When I visit, recall and perceive &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; about my origin I see past the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; and link to what the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; recalls. Photographs, smells, sounds, words, persons, and references bring the origin to the present and the present to the origin. My identity, which was isolated and connected spatially, is grounded and linked to its mortal and physical beginnings. Likewise, too when I recall my spiritual origin my physical context vanishes and is replaced with an unseen and real holy context.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A context made real by the bible’s words to my mind reasoning the reality of my spiritual being. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;However there was a rift between my Father's family and the others. My mother would discuss this between Rose, Helen, Silvia and even Pauline. They complained that Dad's family was rude, laughed too much, and were uneducated, frequented night clubs and flaunted their raucous living. I believe they were “spooked” by the authenticity of my Grandparent's  language, illiteracy, cuisine, nationality, culture, dress code, national peculiarities and friends. It was very intimidating to people trying to be American and fit in with Americas emerging cardboard modernism. Later I was to see this between westerners who married Arabs, Persians, Koreans, Japanese, Chinese,etc. . Their &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; were inherently incompatible and as they tolerated and made due so does Christina with me via her European German culture to my different ways. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Family as metaphor: Where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In the case of my father's family and the many others that married their children these &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; had to be resolved. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; As any &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; the family &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor &lt;/span&gt;exists outside our selves as an objective reality witnessed and known by others as both an idea and reality. They hear the name and associate it with others having the same name. If unique, they presume there is a family and others sharing the name and family body. The family name conjures a tribal body of persons great in number and having a history, legacy and context in the world. However, in the case of the family, we are ourselves part of the idea as well as the reality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What the family is and represents is both separate and independent of its members while at the same time dependent and shaped by each of the personas of the family. Both sides of all the families constantly struggled to understand their own feelings and relationship to their common American culture. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is in this dual consciousness that we enjoy, participate, perceive and contribute to the shape and form of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;compound metaphor.&lt;/span&gt; We enjoy the whole while being one of its parts. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In this way, our family is both a vision of what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; we may be, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; as known by others, as well as whom we could manifest as an aspect of our own identity. We are not &lt;u&gt;all &lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;of &lt;/span&gt;the family but the part that is the family becomes apparent and prevails. My father's family were both individuals, couples with differences and included in each other's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It was a way to authenticate the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; of which we were.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The very process of confronting the differences, and seeking commonalities made the strange familiar and kept the family idea alive. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; We were constantly comparing and jostling between our first and last name (as it were) in what niche describe as the dialectic process. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; By this we authenticate the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; of which we are.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is a constant state of tension and conflict. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is rarely symmetric where the individual only gains equipoise by affection, kindness and love.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;family metaphor&lt;/span&gt; is not &lt;u&gt;who&lt;/u&gt; we are it is the context of what we are.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is the second battlefield of where our identity is fought out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is where we are nurtured and fed vocabulary and antecedents that will measure all other realities.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Who? In myself I am not remarkable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The demise of the role and importance of the family was rooted in the mobility of the family and its replacement by institutions and large corporate employers. Affluence amongst the young and the increase of access to information from other sources than parents had made the parents seem redundant and obsolete.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Only the few and fortunate cherish and benefit from loving parents, siblings, cousins, uncles, grandparents. The inevitable and last earthly connection we have is to our family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is they with whom we share standards and values that compose our identity and with whom we can still share them in the face of anomie of times, ages, contexts, venues, governments, and threats. It is also the demise of family as a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt; and family &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors&lt;/span&gt; in our time. The &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx family metaphor&lt;/span&gt; dominated the period with the Bronx &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor &lt;/span&gt;on par with the&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;family &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphor&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Neighborhood and ethnic metaphors&lt;/span&gt; were a close second. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Conformity vs. Anarchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Additional differences came about when family clans determined to prosper and succeed in post war America heard the call to conformity and repression and signed on to the programs well offered in education, clubs, neighborhoods and society. They relocated, got new jobs and sent their children to schools, which would train them, to conform and be trained to fit in to the new commercial and political society emerging. Some became politically active while others emerged themselves into the activities heretofore foreign to our family such as golf and tennis. They adapted to what ever would work to bring them to the pace where they and their children could succeed and develop. Others took a different path and like wise succeeded but in a different were. They became professors of Universities, teacher, school Principles, agency heads, Scholl district superintendents, architects, photographers, artists, etc. there neighborhoods, homes and friends with whom they associated were unique and different. There was always a condescending and polite not for one to the other whose choices and outcomes were in different worlds. It was not the money, but the ideals and ideologies which caused the rifts. They were all delightful and interesting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And, the rifts were not a separation from as much as an attachment by necessity to a way of thinking and living which, at the moment, seemed right and proper. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Social Handicap: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How I’ve been handicapped by alienation is well portrayed in the film &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wild Strawberries &lt;/span&gt;made in 1957 which captured the thoughtful and compassionate side of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ingmar Bergman&lt;/span&gt;. Having become alienated from his family he was therefore denied his skills, life and legacy. &lt;o:p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Lost in Translation&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;is another film which portrays how people relate when alienated by a common phenomenon. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alienated&lt;/span&gt; in the city led me to have relationships with both men and women likewise alienated. Alienation was all we had in common. I had such relationships with Eileen, Selma, and many in my travels and life abroad. Metaphoric thoughts were eclipsed by momentary feelings. Most of the relationships I had with women were fantasies where they imagined me to be someone whom I’m not and vice versa. Often it led to rude awakenings or mysterious endings. Alienated as child I would stare and daydream in class being somewhere else. Most of the schools alienated me by type casting and cliques in new neighborhoods in which I had no connections. My parents were not connected to the neighborhood and lent me no connections and trusts. It was rather hostile. My mother was somewhat hostile to family and most in the neighborhoods. I had no sense of familiarity and “inclusiveness”. I never sensed our rightness and belonging. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Worse than originating from the Bronx was enough of&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;a handicap declaring ones origins was worse. It symbolized a lifestyle, people and class well below and outside of respectable society. It was an inferior identity to any other borough or place in the United states and carried with every story of unsocial behavior norms and ideals. Could any good come out of Nazareth they asked about Jesus?;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;was the same about the Bronx and its citizens. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Societal Ignorance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Aside from the abuse, the &lt;u&gt;lack of information&lt;/u&gt; limited my options and chances. My parents had an evolutionary view of their own and the life of there children. What ever I discovered or came to do was uncovered and discovered circumstantially and accidentally. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I cannot blame my parents because neither of them was educated nor appreciated the value of education.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My father simply wanted to give me all the things he never had and my mother wanted to discipline me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; The bills were always paid and we were never poor.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I never had the fear of abject poverty and what comes with poverty, yet I knew frugality and living with bare necessities. The bills were always paid and I never can recall any arguments about the lack of money.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother just nagged about saving for the future and not spending anything on recreation, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My father totally disagreed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She knew that I needed more than she did and her husband could give but was very nonchalant about education.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My father could only witness what a few of his brothers were doing with their children but he was not so inclined. This lack of motivation and vision was at the heart of the limited information and scope of the possibilities open and available to me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At school there were few discussions, which I understood or related; most of my fellow students in high school, I later learned were very career and education oriented. I was too concerned with overcoming my handicaps, parents relationship and a low self esteem that education&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and career was not&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;an important part of my life. I recall meeting with the high school guidance counselor who tried matching my lack of scholarship and interest with real life careers and opportunities. Since I was employed by a decorating store she&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;recommended I pursue interior decorating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She then solicited the assistance of Dr. Kurzband who helped me put a portfolio together to apply for NYSofID. What more could have been done I do not know. I do know I had a natural love of music; I later turned out to have an aptitude for medicine. I remember not even knowing what interior decorators and designers do. I did not know what it meant to design. I did not know the difference between and architect or engineer. I did not know what either and architect or engineer actually did. My cousin was studying to become a lawyer and was a scholar. But, I could have been exposed to lawyers and perhaps I too could have chosen law. I even taught quasi law as part of professional practice courses. But I had not idea, nor did any one explain the law or its profession to me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was terrible at math and arithmetic so I could not do anything involving math; so I am grateful the profession of accounting was never offered. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It was not just the information but the interest and enthusiasm of my parents and their friends about any profession or career. It was just chauffeuring, hanging drapes, sewing, etc. mostly labor related.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even construction trades were not offered nor did I know any one who could guide me. I was limited by the information that I had and the information I did &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; have. Had I more information and adults to walk me through I believe things would have been somewhat different? It is neither with regret nor with malice but I do know that information played a part in the decisions I made and the opportunities I grasped. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Had we been able to earn more I could have drawn more drawings, played in bands, sang, acted and done more in the arts. Because I could not I therefore had to earn an income so I let my self be employed by others to work at jobs utilizing architectural, management and business skills. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In brief&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I believed that a person could not only be any thing he wanted but also could be that thing at the highest standard in our society because the society would reward accomplishment in skill, knowledge and accomplishment by placing such a person above the rest or at the very least accepting such persons into the highest realms of society. I often voiced this with employers, teachers, friends and family. They all thought that these things were preposterous. I felt alienated from them. They had a vision of a reality which I did not share. They were supposedly grown up and mature while I was merely unrealistic and impractical and a childish dreamer, I also saw the world on a global scale believing that what ever I could learn and do I could carry out anywhere on the planet and if something I was doing did not bring success in one place it would in another. I had all the makings of a&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; globalized affluent brat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The more I think about postwar America in this period, the less I am convinced that the clash between conformity and rebellion understood as culturally distinct attitudes is sufficient to explain its peculiarities.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Conformity"&lt;/span&gt; shouldn't be a dirty word—it's just "belonging”,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They're people who want to belong.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Yes, all of us, all of America, conformist, beatnik, etc. were suffering from alienation, anomie and change where European writers who were "specialists in alienation and virtuosos of moral anguish.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The comedy, drama, and theater of the time tried to explain the rifts and tears and help us through the choices. It was biblical! Righteousness and being amongst the “right “ and “Its” of our society seemed to make us choose sides and compete when in fact that was all a diversion from the life we were living despite our circumstances. This period looks very different if we take "belonging" and not "conforming" as the imperative. "Alienation," such a hip word among critics of the 1950s and 1960s. The Bronx seemed to be the center of alienation, co- dependence and angst. One only had to go on the streets to meet anyone and they would share there hostility, anger and depression. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is why I could befriend and circulate because I knew we were all feeling the same need and missed the boat. Belonging is not the monopoly of ethnic minorities. It is the “rightness “that Paul explains in his epistles. I came to understand that all people in all walks of life whatever there status were overwhelmed by the same underlying need. The need to be a citizen of the “right” inner circle of security, common protection and shared values.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;“It not what you know but who you know” is a colloquial that has dominated my relations in work, ministry and social life. It is biblical and helpful in achieving success and viability in most contexts. I could see it repeating itself in school, on the street, and at work. There was segregation, discrimination, and minority identification on Faile and Simpson streets.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;u&gt;Communications and other maladies (5,714 words)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I believe that many of the bullies and there beatings I received was because I’d say something in anger to “kids” I should not. The first really good lessons I received were from Mr. and Mrs. Silverman who taught me what to say to customers and workroom people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It worked and I was able to perform the duties of sales in the store. Later, Mr. Silverman taught me what to say when we visited customers about the problems and the remedies. My best teacher was Stanley Sommers who taught me exactly what to say from when I entered till I left the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keep in mind I visited on the average of about eight  apartments daily, six days a week for about three years. At the beginning it was very rough but as time went on with Stanley’s and Herman’s patience I really became quite polished engaging customers and dealing with the worst problems in a polite, friendly and graceful manner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;People asked for me, gave me huge tips and complemented Stanley on sending me to do the work.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Later my father gave me lessons in chauffeuring people to the mountains and Asbury Park. Eventually I learned and again the customers were so happy. I learned to care and keep my “cool” under stress and handle their questions and criticisms with grace and charm. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; You will notice the reticence of dialog running throughout this autobiography because most of the human contact did not include a great deal of dialog. My earliest metaphoric works was a miniature stage of silence of sets and lighting with two-dimensional figures going from side to side on the stage with out speaking only gesturing with one facial expression. I could speak to dysfunctional personality.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I rationalized all of life that God led me and directed me with my handicapped to where he wanted me to be. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is all part of my persona and contributes to my peculiarity and significant difference, it has contributed to the changes and readjustments as well as the way in which we returned and departed contexts.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;It has kept us apart from many and involved with some. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I also, realized that for my family I had become an irritant too caustic to be tolerated and better known at a distance. I believed that this was eventually true for both my parents and brother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was probable true for many of my aunts and uncles and most of my cousins. It wasn’t my humor; it was my reactions to their comments and concerns. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I always knew they loved me in there own way but found my beliefs and manner of expressing myself foreign and difficult. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Introduction:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My knowledge differs from others because of the different combination my teachers, experiences and interest. Furthermore, I did not accept things as they were and I had trouble adjusting to the status quo. By my trying to find a way to adjust I discovered things that others missed. My piers were in the same place but experiencing things differently. This was true in the South Bronx as it was in Brooklyn or New Haven. It was certainly true in Saudi Arabia.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My curiosity differed from others. I was also motivated differently than others to learn things at different times and about different things than others. For example in Saudi Arabia and India I really did not care much about the culture and historical artifacts. I cared about winning souls, trade and commerce.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Unlike others I was brave and had the courage to learn and experience the unknown. I could not learn things what others found interesting and was left with what others avoided. The crumbs and leftovers of mainstream interest struck my curiosity. Why wasn’t any one interested in this or that? I have always found my self delving and exploring unpopular themes. I just couldn’t imagine that my questions hadn’t already been asked and already answered.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why did I first have to be the one to open the subject and expose the truth. Where were the others and those that came before me? Man of my contemporaries found me daft. Being of low esteem and a vague and ubiquitous identity it was easy for me to engage those bigoted persons who bust with pride and intolerance at there own, family and tribal identity. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was inherently inquisitive. All the signs of an intellect, prophet, teacher and scholar. I am not saying I had more or less intelligence than the next, nor that I was superior in any way; as a matter of fact I have never believed, thought or nearly imagined my self to be above or superior to&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;any one’s class; nor above reproach. I Have early in life learned the difference between discussion, debate, argument or encircling, rebuking, rejecting and shutting off communications with an adversary and one who is totally and completely wrong; one whose primary beliefs are evil, destructive, anarchical, irresponsible, capricious and maliciously harmful. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;God equipped me to have the capacity to care and prey for the souls of others so that when I see someone or I am asked to preach I ask God what is needed by these people or by the one person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYkAV3dmdI/AAAAAAAAAzs/7f9kg5vbO50/s1600-h/IMG_0405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYkAV3dmdI/AAAAAAAAAzs/7f9kg5vbO50/s200/IMG_0405.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356508395092154834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was free to choose my subjects and learned early that freedom is real and not something imagined. Free from the fear and obedience to sin, Satan and evil&lt;i style=""&gt;. Galatians 5:&lt;sup&gt;1&lt;/sup&gt; Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage” &lt;/i&gt;My vague, complex and contradictory identity became an asset at a very early age both exacerbating my piers as well as engaging there occasional acceptance into there bigoted world&lt;i style=""&gt;. &lt;/i&gt;. It too was ambient in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Stardust&lt;/span&gt; and something I had to reckon with regularly. The numbers of persons and ideas that ruled and reigned in my life over time and beyond have been innumerable.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are, in fact timeless, and many not even in this time, but long dead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are the many intellects, prophets, writers, playwrights, artists, and thinkers that have left remnants of there life to impact my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYj__qFXYI/AAAAAAAAAzk/IeaIXD31k-A/s1600-h/Hunts+Point+Blvd+brdige+with+stores.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYj__qFXYI/AAAAAAAAAzk/IeaIXD31k-A/s200/Hunts+Point+Blvd+brdige+with+stores.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356508389130460546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;However on a more personal and intimate note relative to those who lived amongst us during my life time I wish to acknowledge the following for their significant contribution to the building of the metaphor of my life: These are some of the people God provided to enable and encourage me in His will. These are the special people who affected my life and made a significant difference. They were unique and made my life special. Many other these persons shared there intolerance and prejudice while others silently discriminated by not openly joining us in out of context activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYj_eI5o2I/AAAAAAAAAzc/zTJvJSZrafE/s1600-h/633+Faile+Bronx+Hunts+Point.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYj_eI5o2I/AAAAAAAAAzc/zTJvJSZrafE/s200/633+Faile+Bronx+Hunts+Point.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356508380132909922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bigotry:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYj__qFXYI/AAAAAAAAAzk/IeaIXD31k-A/s1600-h/Hunts+Point+Blvd+brdige+with+stores.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Truth and Hypocrisy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="CITE"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;It was somewhere during this “stardust ” period that I wanted the truth. I wanted the truth and wanted to know the truth about someone and they should know the truth about me. Hide nothing and keep nothing back. It was only with a few that this was possible and particularly before sin entered into my life or before I was aware that I was sinning. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It seemed that sin prevented such total candor . However, before this I was able to be open with several and they were my friends. Friends for a life time. It is hypocrisy that changed this attitude and my relations with most people. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;In My Parents Home&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;What did I do ? Sociological Handicap (4,683 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;How I dealt with my shortcomings and My&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;parents Role in Shaping my persona&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I carried boxes, bolts of fabric, curtain rods and cornices and drilled up into ceilings for several years which caused me to have painful bercitus in both of my shoulders. I carried these things in ice and snow and some times for several New York City blocks. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; To tell the story of the Bronx without examples of the affects of the context would be two dimensional. Like many other communities of the time the Bronx had its share of dysfunctionals and grief. It is a grief normalized in the twenty first century but in the mid twentieth century infidelity was unacceptable and male chauvinism was very acceptable. Our context, family and especially allegiance must be focused and not divided. My family had to become those that shared what God was dispensing. I urged my family to join me on this journey, but they refused. I missed them and longed for them to come with me. I’d write, when I did not see them and cajole when we were together. However my father later converted, I always suspected that my mother did as well. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Math12:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; 30&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; He that is not with me is against me; and he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So I too believed I must be consequent and clear with “them”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; People in my context considered me Pollyanna, impractical and out of touch as I was going through the eye of the needle. I was the epitome of stardust and its affects.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I considered them irrelevant, uncommitted, drifting, victims of flesh, world, and circumstance. I was preparing to be a knight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I needed a King and a Kingdom. Recently Barbara-Anne, the Klee’s daughter, asked my advice to encourage her son in his commitment to anything, including his studies and life itself. I suggested she not press in on him for any one thing except to support him to become a “knight”. If he does, he will some how find his King and kingdom. In this way I am very grateful to God for leading me so that I could become a Knight and find Him my King.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Perhaps they were caught up in the moment of an American fantasy, ideal and dream. I surely did not seem to last very long. I can not recollect bright moments.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Only flashes of being together, but no affection, and happy lives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some time in the early years, there are some recollections of laughter.  These were the years before my brother Saul was born, while we lived on Hoe and the early days of Home. I was less than four years old; I hardly remember, but it was very mixed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I clearly remember arguments and harsh words as I lie in bed in the living room on Home Street. Then very early-on some thing went wrong.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;My mother was about fifteen years my father’s senior, from a Europeans/German work-ethic culture while my father a Mediterranean and romantic culture.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Both were distracted away from raising me by a both a failing economy and no business between them to earn.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It was a dysfunctional family where there was neither intention, motivation, discipline nor will to behave. What they did was stay together hating, fighting, and avoiding each other. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Father would escape m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;y Mother's rants.   My mother would take out her hostilities on the “weakest link”, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;. Otherwise she was loving and caring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;One could not have a Mother who was always there; cooking, cleaning, shopping, and taking me to doctors, school, beach, park, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Her European work ethic and strong sense of duty and learned obedience made her the best caretaker that a child could ever have.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The house was immaculate; I was totally clean, over dressed, and fed the most nutritious foods that God produced. She changed the sheets and towels daily. Our cloths were washed and cleaned; we never wore dirty and/or unwashed cloths. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Her reaction to anomic stress was to hold on to the status quo of the concept and fact of her marriage and work as hard as she could to create the form if not the substance of a marriage. She did! At what a cost to her life’s happiness and well being. She gave her life for her children.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Her sense of responsibility overwhelmed her to the point of nagging and venting her frustrations. She was trying to do the right thing and for that I loved and worshiped her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She loved us and let us knows that she loved us by telling us that she loved us and making sure our underwear was washed and ironed, fresh sheets and towels nearly daily, and all the cloths we wore were in perfect condition. When I was old enough and before I met Christina my mother was my best friend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was intelligent and quick; we liked the same things; Chinese food, classical music, radio programs, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was such fun, but &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; in these early years! Yet, there must have been a closeness and warm relationship between us because I can only recall a kind and loving presence, I can recall being nurtured and cared and surely I was dressed, weened and bathed. My mother was there attentive and caring. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In my mother’s anomie, my father was immature, irresponsible, innocent, and "other"-directed. I assume she based her values on the standards and values of her parents and the norms of the day. It was an unwholesome combination which left us all separated and relieved to be separated.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My father was the most loving, kind and gentleman I have ever known.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Very diplomatic and wanted the best for his children. My brother seemed to know that he was amongst the wrong combination and soon found a way out in his early marriage to Francine. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father and mother told me the story of how they met and his proposal of marriage: &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;“two can live as cheaply as one”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;She was living in the Brooklyn shipyard district of Brooklyn, adjacent to Bedford Stuyvesant where Pratt institute was located (in the building of an abandoned shoe factory); and, my father lived in Harlem. They met and dated in a very popular dance hall called the “Palladium” (near Roseland and Birdland).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;At twelve I learned at school that I needed to prepare myself. My parents were temporary; so I started to prepare myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjdPqqXtI/AAAAAAAAAzM/FA-Pr74Y59Q/s1600-h/IMG_0428.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjdPqqXtI/AAAAAAAAAzM/FA-Pr74Y59Q/s200/IMG_0428.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356507792132431570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I needed discipline and I thought my parents did not realize this; I believed they only knew I misbehaved.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother said I talked too much; I did. I asked too many questions, I did.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I delved. I did. She predicted this would give me the most trouble in my life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;After I stopped smoking in 1977 (at age forty) and would enter a restaurant before smoking was banned in restaurants and the Maitre’d would ask:” do you smoke?” (implying, would you like to sit in the smoking or non-smoking section of the restaurant) to which I would answer:” I only smoke when I’m on fire.” I know, neither did anyone else laugh; however, I always thought it was very funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjcjLBGGI/AAAAAAAAAzE/e_vwrBNbFvs/s1600-h/IMG_0425.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjcjLBGGI/AAAAAAAAAzE/e_vwrBNbFvs/s200/IMG_0425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356507780188543074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I started smoking in 1951 (at age fourteen) the first year I started attending high school when I me Leon Goldstein on the bus commuting from our apartment on Simpson Street. He taught me how to smoke sitting on the black iron rail at the bus stop at Pelham Parkway at our destination before walking to school. After a long while of choking, coughing, etc I learned. Then I began what was&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;years of taking a few cigarettes form my Mothers red pack of Pall Mall until I graduated and with the money I earned could buy my own. As much as I smoked I never exceeded one pack per day. When my Mother found out that I smoked I urged her not to tell my Dad because I did not want to grow up. To me smoking was growing up and I enjoyed being my Father’s son. I thought that would all end once he knew I smoked. After a while I would do the usual smoke after every meal, while driving, after sex and especially with coffee. My mother never missed the few cigarettes I took and in this way I felt my mother and I bonded in a way I can never explain. We shared and she did keep a secret. In after smoking regularly for several years Stanley Sommers bet me on one New Years Eve that I could not stop smoking and that who ever of us started first would pay the other one hundred dollars. I won and Stanley paid me one hundred dollars. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am cosmopolitan and not rural or suburban. I don’t have any interest in baseball, football, soccer or popular rock stars, political candidates, fishing, etc. Man can say that I’m not from around here. Even as a child we moved often.. I am overly traveled and am articulate, glib and conversant. I delve and invade subjects or withdraw and keep silent concerned that I may overwhelm and offend.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Medical Experiences:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The earliest experiences I had with doctors and dentists were with a doctor in the Bronx who did make house calls. I also visited his office and he was very nice. He prescribed that I take "all B plus C" which I still take to this day. My family dentist was Dr. Golumba whose office was on Fox Street but he lived on the Grand Concourse. He was a charming man with a nurse on the ground floor of the corner building on fox at East 163 street. He kept the radio on and explained such important things to me as the real meaning of the “F” word going back to the Greeks “facio” to make, at least so he said. He always had lovely stories and cared for our family as thought it was his own. We had an eye doctor Mr. Flowerman who was tall with a mustache just like my dad. His office was on 163 Street near the corner drug store with the gigantic scale where you could weigh yourself for a penny and get a paper ticket with your weight written on it. The store had a special smell, which also lingers with me till this day. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dr. Flowerman told me that I would always need glasses and that I should not try to see with out them that it would hurt my eyes. And I believed and follow his advice until today.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;All of these doctors where our family doctors before 1952 when we lived on Fox, Home, Faile and Simpson Streets. My Dad had a variety of chiropractors that I got to know more than I’d like along with information about my father’s dislocated discs on the third vertebra and back pain. My mother had a bad gum disease and Dr. Golumba had to finally extract all her teeth and fit her with false teeth. The cost was astronomical. All of us except Saul wore glasses.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These were our family doctors but slowly I was introduced to others such as the dentist whose office I decimated. One morning I was brought to his office and sat in the waiting room. A little boy my age came out of his office crying and bleeding and I headed for the door. My mother pulled me back and the nurse and my mother dragged me in and they strapped me down to the chair.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I did not stop yelling and screaming and insisting I did not want to be in this place. They began to strap my arms and legs when I began kicking and thrashing that I smashed his light, glass with all his instruments and with Herculean strength know only to wild jungle animals pushed them all aside, open the door, charged through the waiting room, then the office to the street and ran for blocks vowing to never step foot in any dentist office ever again!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When I broke my legs and needed casts it was our Bronx family doctor and the Lincoln hospital that did the work. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Later I had an operation to correct my deviated septum by another nose surgeon and had to stay overnight in a hospital. My mother did visit me. I did well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I had my automobile accident my lawyer sent me to a compensation doctor who examined and documented my neck whiplash injury. Aside for school nurses whom I saw regularly to get excused form every public school I ever attended those were my regular doctors. Of course in public school we regularly got our inoculations for small pox and chicken pox regularly. It seems they were always shooting something into our arms.. Later after relocating back to New York we continued seeing Dr. Pellicane and found some great dentist who lo and behold used gas to anesthetize patients making going to the dentist a very fine experience. I had all my teeth filled and few pulled with some of the dentist including one on Fifth ave. on an n upper floor high-rise who pulled one of my wisdom teeth. It was treated as major surgery where I was put to sleep by and anesthesiologist. I was well behaved.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bronx Sickness and Dying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sickness and dying in the Bronx is not distinctive, peculiar or special in the Bronx. However the names of hospitals, medical colleges and universities are still today important such as the, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lincoln &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;color:black;" &gt;Hospital, &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/local?hl=en&amp;amp;lr=&amp;amp;q=hospitals&amp;amp;near=Bronx,+NY&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=locald&amp;amp;radius=0.0&amp;amp;latlng=40850000,-73866667,7939827959597070877"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Montefiore Medical Center Henry Lucy Moses Division&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ;&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/local?hl=en&amp;amp;lr=&amp;amp;q=hospitals&amp;amp;near=Bronx,+NY&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=locald&amp;amp;radius=0.0&amp;amp;latlng=40850000,-73866667,4651207023577903426"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;N Y City of: North Central Bronx Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ;&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/local?hl=en&amp;amp;lr=&amp;amp;q=hospitals&amp;amp;near=Bronx,+NY&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=locald&amp;amp;radius=0.0&amp;amp;latlng=40850000,-73866667,14907838936157119649"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;US Veterans Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;; &lt;a href="http://www.ci.nyc.ny.us/html/hhc/html/facilities/northcentralbronx.shtml"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;North Central &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Bronx Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt; Bronx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;-Lebanon &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Center: Fulton Pavilion: Concourse Pavilion.; Jacobi Medical Center; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.google.com/local?hl=en&amp;amp;lr=&amp;amp;q=hospitals+einstein&amp;amp;near=Bronx,+NY&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=locald&amp;amp;radius=0.0&amp;amp;latlng=40850000,-73866667,7939827959597070877"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Albert &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Einstein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;-Jack D Weiler &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;-Division of Montefiore &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.However the period was different from today in that doctors made house calls; they were personal and caring. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I myself suffered sickness since a baby and somehow appreciated the possible potential of life ending and not being since a very young person. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As a child I experienced my Mother’s parents both dying within a very short time of each other. My grandfather from complications due to diabetes. I did not know how my grandmother died. My mother kept this from me but&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;she did take me to visit grandpa in the hospital and I recall sadly how I was kept with my aunt Clare of the outside of the building while my Grandpa waived his last farewell to me. I must have been less than four. Grandpa was sick for a long time with prostrate problems and my grandma would serve him his bedpan b y his bed so he could do his toilet without getting out of bed. I would sleep in the spare room and keep her company while she attended to Grandpa I his last days. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Of course my brother and I both would get sick with measles, tonsils and colds. I would take care of my brother, making sure he slept well and was covered. I was a good care giver. My Mother also got colds and sometime she would stay in bed and I’d cook and bring her food, coffee, tea, etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;What was different from today was the access every one had to all of these hospitals. Furthermore doctors always came to the house. It was a time of the most personalized family medical treatment. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father was constantly in pain, and often hunched over. He had slipped his lumbar discs which became weaker as he aged. Either chiropractors were in the house or we visited them. I learned how to massage and help him and use the ligament oils. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother had a miscarriage and it was I who was there when it occurred. I ran to the neighbors as she screamed for help and insisted I take action. I even went to Evelyn Mednick who immediately came and cared for Mom. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I even recall my brother’s birth at the Lincoln Hospital when I watched as her sister and sister-in- laws visited to care for her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I recall my very sickly Aunt Bertha and visiting her so often and then the last visit before she died. My dear Grandmother died slowly in a home because she had fallen and broke her hip. I went and sat with her as often as I could. I was there with her just before she finally died. She was gaunt and quit. I took a picture to keep. Few came and visited. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Torn apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Before we can build and rebuild we must first face our families past malady, which has prevented it from reaching its powerhouse potential.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Though each of its members has had the talent, resources and potential each coveted and limited its generosity and sharing. We are suffering from a family -wide anomi.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; The practical problem manifested by the men of my father's family Mediterranean and married European women. While all of these women were from different European countries and cultures they did all agree on that the values of Mediterranean culture was not compatible with the values from which they emerged. Additionally, many did not really appreciate the Harlem influence on the family’s persona. They discounted the importance of common standards and values and instead opted to choose the common themes of the day, which were advertised and played out in the current culture. Yet the anomie affected the family’s links and ties on its standards and values. They were discarded for a new construction. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Additionally, they were all from different cultures, which had the further effect of separating and dividing the family by incompatibilities between brother’s nuclear family units. The two effects resulted in separation of my father's family’s son’s and daughters relating to each other, consistently supporting, and encouraging one another. They were not in “one accord”. The result has been friendly but incompatible relations.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The  Mediterranean character combined with the persona of Harlem made my father's clan difficult to tolerate as a group.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Economics, jobs, employment and economic financial needs compounded an already difficult situation. In those days working women was not acceptable. In our family there were few exceptions such as Aunt Jenny, Rose, Shirley, and Mina. All the others had to survive and grow families on a single income or a single person working often holding more that one job. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Believe&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The trust of family members in each other provides the encouragement and faith to face the enemy. The enemy which is without and not within. Such faith and trust lets the love of God bless and build the person and his heart to become the person god wants each of us to be. My father's family has been such a family and can be again such a family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; This is the legacy of the history of our ancestors and there progeny.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Children as Legacy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As is the case of many poor families the only enduring legacy is the family’s progeny. In the case of my parents I believe this is the case. It also is the reason why such families tend to be irresponsible about their lives and what may follow. They invest themselves in the birth and sustenance of there children. They then protect and keep them from harm and evil. In the case of my parents my father was so preoccupied with his second family, his business, and finally his very ill health that he had little time to consider what he’d leave his children. I’d often consider this and conclude there was nothing, zip, and zero. They led me to believe that all they had was debt and unpaid loans. I never knew why his common law adopted son Jackie committed suicide except for his addiction to drugs. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Bronx formed our physical, metaphoric, economic ,social ,spiritual, and tribal context. It was rooted in mortal, worldly, physical reality well covered by structures, programs, structures, systems, utilities and politics. &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Everything we did or said was Bronxish. We could be identified by the way we spoke, ate, behaved and by the thoughts and opinions we had. We were all Democrats, liberal and socially independent of any government handout programs. Our motto was “the was  you make your bed is the way you will lie in&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;it” and "God helps those who help them selves.” We would never think of volunteering for anything and expected that everything that was done was done for a “buck”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother was terrified of being stranded in rural wilderness away from commodities and services, shops and vendors, urban transportation, trolleys, bus, and trains.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Her contexts had to do with the needs and necessities of housing, feeding and maintaining the health of her two children.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Her context had nothing to do with fashionable addresses, locations, nor the status of this or that building type, color, or style. My mother’s context, as was mine as a growing boy was prompted by what we heard on the radio, red in the news papers, or heard on 78 rpm records we played on the Victrola.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yes there was a world out there, which was at quite some distance orbiting around us in which we were the center. But to say that my parents decided about one or another thing based on its context would be wrong. There were glimpses into context motivated decisions when we joined Shore Haven club, bought drapes and slip covers to decorate our living room. Or when I can just remember dressing my mother would buy us navy pinafores or knickers and high stocking outfits for school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There are photos of my parents taken before they married in furs and hats; and i remember my mother dressing in crinolines, satin and high heels. The typical look of the forties and fifties. The depression left little time and energy to conjure but lots to remind about immediate needs and necessities. It was a long and sustained period. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Not only did God call me, he also prepared me for each next context by experience and suffering and bearing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But, why change locations, contexts and jobs. Was it for the lack of discipline or ability to be steadfast and abiding? Was there a “wander lust” or just a wish to go into “harms way”? Was I seeking some reality, which I could not find? Did I enjoy adapting and learning? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Prescriptive:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The sociological analysis, pronouncements, and prophecy were plentiful and available. I was particularly fortunate to have studied with scholars who seemed acutely aware and articulate about the phenomenon, which was mushrooming before everyone’s eyes. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Most of my childhood was spent in a non-prescriptive context. My friends, acquaintances, neighbors, and family were subscribing but we did not. Later some of them rebelled and got off the prescription. The prescription included college, house in suburbs, 2 cars, children, credit, dope (unspoken), divorce (this became a norm later on).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was born and raised before oil, TV, Technicolor, Rock and Roll, dope, mini-skirts, and computers. Yet, all of these would be the world in which I was to mature and develop.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My city’s streets had cobblestones, nightclubs, small corner grocery stores, and five and tens. Men and women wore hats and gloves. My mother dressed me in knickers and high socks. The trolleys clanged, screeched, and took their time. At night the streets were dark and so were the skies. You could see the Milky Way and falling stars. The streets of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New York City&lt;/span&gt; were lined with low-lit lampposts and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the sidewalks glittered with clear crushed aggregate containing quartzfelspathetic or fractured k-feldspar with mica content. I remember cars with mica windshields&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oil became the “big deal” of my life and changed my cities and my career. In Jackson in 1973 I was a victim of the OPEC oil embargo as all our customers from up north could not drive to Tennessee to see or buy our lots and houses. I listened to songs like &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Midnight in the Oasis &lt;/span&gt;and made pen and ink sketches of the Arabian Desert. I dreamed of dinosaurs and visualized how their carcasses changed to oil under the compression of earth. In &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Reston,&lt;/span&gt; I learned what the prices of a barrel of oil should cost form a company full of oilmen. In Houston, all any body talked about was the price of oil and its affect on War and Peace; and in Saudi, with oil the only factor in the economy, the price and quantity of oil sales directly affected my contract’s fee, benefits, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The family, village and neighborhood manifests in compounds, developments, offices, companies, sports, entertainment, Brigadoon, plays, parties, movies, and theaters. You can see families and relationships and for the hour enjoys the visit to the past “family model” where you experienced acceptance, nurturing and encouragement.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What I have learned from my family and the context in which we were a well-knit family was the meaning of relationships and love for the urban city. In most all instances I can relate each to a venue, place, apartment, house, neighborhood where some drama played out. I also learned how precious and special they, there context and the times were for all of these things and events to happen. There was never any thing remarkably special about any of it except that I loved it all. That love was sewn into my love of cities, urbanity and communities.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;There are four children of my father's parents who died when they were very young. That makes a total of 15 Uncles and aunts.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Now, here is what really happened!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A bunch of strangers, over a period of time in random acts of greed, legitimate business and investment discovered, platted, deeded, marketed, sold and eventually planned, designed and built the utilities, support services and then the buildings. These were rented out to tenants of facilities and individuals. These buildings were bought and sold and other investors and other families occupied the buildings. Our family was one of those and I was one of those whose curiosity was peeked about the significance and meaning of the decisions that were made and the process that led to the context in which I found myself. It is all part the zeal and passion I had for all and every part of life that I could grasp.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In any case cities, boroughs, and neighborhoods were always mysterious and interesting subjects to wander and explore. I inspected and discovered every element of the environment and the social structures. I noted signs, pavement, rails, pipes, columns, materials, shapes, forms shadows, textures and the variation of aesthetics and styles. I learned fist hand the aesthetics of the street and the deference between the whole, integrated and cohesive context to the details and detached elements one may typically find repeated elsewhere. I experienced the insides and outsides and the way the tow jarred, blended, or were coordinated or vulgarly pasted together. These all were e the contexts in which I lived and could enter with freedom and tenacity. My friends, relative s and customers homes were my palate. Later my academic, abstract and metaphoric observations and conclusions are made from these simple beginnings. Later in Europe and Arabia I was able to extrapolate and expand these ideas to compare intentions, circumstances and systems by which contexts are formed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bronx Tribes and Families: Relationships: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; Family Identity: “You can’t go home.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One of the most basic questions anyone asks is “who am I” and, “what am I doing here”? “Why was I born”? “What is my purpose?” and “Where am I headed”? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; We do not see ourselves but we sure do see, feel and totally sense others. We perceive and try to organize their physical, social, political, emotional and intellectual presence and influence; it is DNA, generic and hereditary. It is biological, anatomical and mental. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I thank God that I had a family, and, one that provided some access and experience which helped me form some personality and character. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My family provided many answers but not all. I don’t think any ones family does that. But my family certainly provided an imaginary contextual representation of itself. As much as I tried to learn specifics of language, place, vocation, relationships, I was unable. In my early childhood my family was reluctant and reticent about their roots, antecedents and origins. As time went on, I needed more answers and interactions so as to develop and further my identity but there was nothing. My grandmother exuded her personality but only spoke Ladino so she could not answer my many questions and participates in the further development my identity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; In my case, our family name never developed its identity to the point where I understood its origin and meaning. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In this regard the lack of identity to the name and the family that accompanied the name was further frustrated when all that I had become and achieved by graduating Pratt and working as a designer was not only marginalized, but also actually ignored by my family. I continued to have physical contact, but the family name, identity and relationships had deteriorated to the point where neither my family’s name, religion, possible location, nor customs contributed to the identity and explanations I needed to proceed with my life and career. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It seemed better to start from scratch with a new identity. A new identity that had no baggage and could easily be used to navigate uncharted waters that lie ahead. They made it clear they were not going to participate in this adventure. It seemed beneficial to keep my background and family relationships out of the picture and my family identity innocuous and unimportant, as, indeed, it had become. It was unfortunate but the reality of what my family had become. Thus saying, it was very important and more important because it was missing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; So, while they provided lots of personality and physical identity they provided little else of the identity I sought with answers to the universal purposes and relationships needed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;On the other hand, my family members were the evidence of being and the testimony of my presence! They were the ones who can testify as witness of who you are out side of the name, trophies, possessions and titles I may bear. By knowing them and they knowing me, we say we exist, and, are who we say we are. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; In a world where we have drivers license, social security numbers, before, draft card number, credit cards titles to property and professional licenses it seems family would not serve that same purpose. In fact, it is because of these modern means of identity that we need family identity to remind us of our first and early stages of our identity. Answers to our questions, that our flesh and blood (not only societies systems provided) answered. Who we are and where we are going.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is the family that remembers and provides value to life. They judge and build esteem. Society is an extension of our identity and but it is not specific. It has been a convenient identity and context. It has given me answers, which my family could not. I have been able, through non flesh and blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, and blood relationships, to build identity and understand the wider issues of my presence and purpose.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;These days when I rejoin the remnants of my family I do so with a societal identity returning to the origin and the roots of the physical.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Blood is thicker than water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am the being, which God made, He placed me into my family, and after that I made choices. It honors God when we honor God’s choice and we learn His will when we understand our family and its challenges and opportunities &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I learned that family relationship structures are not only made of blood and contracts of marriage but of institutions, commerce and government.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Both my parents were adept in there use of the city. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Like most marriages they were fulfilling a kind of urban fantasy. Brooklyn and Bronx merged in Manhattan to form urban family ideal. This ideal contained economy, housing and a portrait life-style. Each dressed in urban uniforms, assuming there urban dinettes. All was sell until their emotions and misbehaviors led them out of the law and normative molds. Their misbehaviors were unrelated to there fantasy. They were unprepared by urban models to work their problems. At the time, there were no movies, songs, radio programs that provided any scenarios or roles to solve their problems. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It is in this perspective that can discuss my immediate and overall family relationships.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father’s proposal to my mother was for them to marry in 1936, the early years of the recovery of the great depression, so that instead of paying two rents they would pay one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They had nothing in common, their backgrounds were totally different and my mother was over ten years my father’s senior.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Hence, they lived out the years of their marriage together for the sake of the children, a loveless and unhappy marriage. This to the disdain of the both sides of the family who found my father’s lack of fidelity to my mother and her stubbornness to not grant him a divorce totally unacceptable and to be avoided.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Hence, both sides of the family found it difficult to associate with the other and rifts in communication and associations developed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They were both Taurus sign born in May and both were second generation immigrants. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They were both innately hard workers and loyal. Both from large families and both families oriented. Neither of them really understood their culture. My father and his family would speak Spanish in a funny way and my mother German in a funny way. They both agreed that English and America were there language and country with little regard for the ancestral past.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They had so much in common and yet they could not make their marriage work.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The leader of the whole family, my grandparents were very much in love and cared very well for each other and on many occasions i would stay with my grandma  . They were able to lead their 9 sons and two daughters very well, but they could not control the vast differences of the spouses between each other.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Many of the other sons and daughters on either wide were mostly marries either before or after the brunt of the depression; and those few married in the midst of the depression certainly made no pact as my &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The family something bigger than my parents and me. It was large in scope and scale. There was always someone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Chapter 3 Family Members &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;All of the sons of my father's parents married Europeans whose disdain of the Mediterraneans led them to divide and separate from the family; and, their nationalities of Hungarian, Polish, Romanian, German, Austrian, etc. led them to dislike one another. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Sam Grazian was Cuban and &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Victor Abolofia was Turkish&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;u&gt; Their USA context,&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; as best as I can patch it together is that they lived in&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Harlem in a very large apartment where they raise 12 children&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; and then relocated to a smaller apartment in Brooklyn where they had a small restaurant, greasy spoon breakfast place. I was born in the Brooklyn Hospital and my aunt Molly recalls Leo living in Brooklyn when they met.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Finally, after all but two of the boys were out of the house they relocated to a house on the Bronx River for a very short while and then to Simpson Street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Here is where the two remaining boys, Julie and Murray resided before going to war. I attended both their weddings.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dad's parents were married and had several children in Rhodes in the Mediterranean before immigrating to the USA in about 1900+-. I can only assume they were born in Rhodes between 1980 and 1985 and after several miscarriages and poverty they left to the USA. Though I now have no specific evidence I can only surmise that they could have come from a specific section near the north east cruise ship pier of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rhodes (isle of roses).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Keep in mind that while there was no major upheaval impacting the Mediterranean at that time from 1523 to 1912 under the Ottoman Empire (Turks) Rhodes was a place of exile where count of sultans would send principles, sovereign defected, Uzi in misfortune and untrustworthy pascia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The island was influenced by France but ruled by the Turks. I t was predominantly Muslim (probable Shiites as in Persia) with a great many Christian and some Greeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Arabs had conquered Rhodes in the 7 th century and even Paul had visited Rhodes in 57 ad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In Persian hands 340 BC, then the Greek under Alexander the great in 322bc.after 395 ad it was under Byzantine supervision after they had left 1n 1912 the Italians invaded Rhodes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;During the medieval times there were sovereign knights of Rhodes .it was the place where a sculptor built 160 tall representation the Greek God Helios, the patron god of Rhodes in from 304 to 288bc and after 50 years destroyed by an earthquake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It was standing long enough to be become one of the great wonders of the world and the model for the famed statue of liberty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is no wonder then why my grandfather, then a baggage and cargo carrier living and working at the port would get the idea to take what little they could save and escape the isolation and dim hope for the future they would have in a Muslim and Turkish dominated colony.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Grandma described to me their home in Rhodes as a room with a wall to wall bench, on which they sat and slept.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A window and a door.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It had shelves and cooking was done on a counter to kerosene burner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The toilet was out side.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She would describe all of this so many times when I would visit her alone and we would sit by the front window of their apartment on the ground floor of 1012 Simpson Street; apartment 1a, the first apartment after you came into the building.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’d sit on wooden armed chairs separated by a wooden card table. She loved to play cards with me, especially gin rummy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’d play for hours. The hand wound Victrola stood by and each day we’d put on a record and she’d dance to what sounded like Greek/Egyptian/Lebanese/ Syrian music.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Of course she would first dance then I’d join in and so it would go till it was time to rest and then make dinner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dinner always included red rice, spinach, and boiled meat or chicken.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My grandma was the best cook in the whole world. There was absolutely no other who could even come close.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So many of the daughter-in-laws tried but failed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some grand-ma-would privately tutor as part of their pre-nuptial vows.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was awesome!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I was privileged to be the queen’s favorite.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was always with her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Being with grandma was all I wanted. All the time, any time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We go shopping together, visit her friend Mrs. Palumbo in the park.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Granpa always wore a suit even when working in his shoe shine parlor build as a hut on the empty lot against the wall of a building on Simpson Street and 163 street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would often take me to worship clinging to my tiny hand with grate big strong hand. His hand was made so strong from the daily labor of making shoes, blocking hats and shinning shoes for the past thirty years he and grandma were in the USA. While he was an elder of the temple he did not speak any language. He did not speak Spanish, Turkish or Greek. The closest language where there was some communication was Spanish and hence the comfort factor of living in a semi Spanish neighborhood.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At Uncle Leo’s funeral I learned from the announcement and Aunt Mollie that Uncle Leo was born and raised on Havermeyer Street in Brooklyn in 1913. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;El Puente Havermeyer Street is in the Williamsberg section of Brooklyn in the area of Greenmarket and Broadway having the church of the Annunciation.&lt;/span&gt; I surmise that as did my mother’s parents this was there second stop after immigrating to Ellis and then lower Manhattan where they were assigned to the nearest place over the east river to near by Brooklyn to find housing and a job. The ramp of the Williamsburg Bridge passes over Havermeyer Street. I further surmise that as they got settled they finally find a better job and housing and moved to Harlem. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Before moving to Simpson Street they had lived in Harlem on 101 street and Lenox and then in a house for a short while on the Bronx Canal. I can remember them being so very kind to me as all there children were in the army and as they returned home got married to ladies whose family had European background.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the room which my brother would later occupy and i was grandma’s pantry and room for borders and the master bedroom was used as it would be by my parents. I the middle of the living room was a giant wooden muti-leaved trestle table which would often be extended by adding all the leaves for lavish dinners where all the children and there girl friends, fiancées, and wives and children would gather for pot blessing meals extraordinary.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I would always take the pot especially prepared for me by grandma and go under the table. Wow!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Grand parents: My mother’s mother and father lived on Steuben Street in Brooklyn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother had three brothers and two sisters.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Somehow, the only sibling that she got along with was my Aunt Claire.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I only mention that here to let you know that our relationship with my Uncle Charlie was only made possible by his wife gene. Charlie was older than my mother by several years was.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I actually knew them from the time I was born until we move to Holland Ave. in 1952 and I always remember them living in the same place on Home street. I really liked Charlie; he was always so nice to me. I remember when my Aunt Gene became pregnant and gave birth to their daughter Carol.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I recall at first visiting them by bus or sometime walking up Southern Boulevard to Westchester Ave and then to where they lived on the corner in a big apartment building. Just downstairs from them on the corner was a candy store. I would buy egg creams and candy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Their apartment was a very stoic one-bedroom apartment with a big living room and dining room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Charlie would talk so nicely about the affairs of the country and my mother would always complain later that Charles believed that he was “gods gift” and should be getting paid a lot more than he was. And, if only things were different how much better he could be doing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She resented his bragging, complaining and general bloating his self-importance.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; His wife, Gene, on the other hand was a very unattractive thin and frail woman with a tremendously kind and gentile humor.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother and Gene never stopped being good friends. They were both wonderful and our many visits were warm and good.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In 1941 they found a vacancy in an apartment across the street from them and we moved in. So we were close and neighbors. We saw them a lot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Later Carol got married to a man from Puerto Rico and no one in the family ever saw her again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was to us our dear baby cousin with whom we played and cuddled. It was an unfortunate loss. I assume she is still alive and living with a big family somewhere in New York.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Both Charlie and Jean died many years ago.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Of all the family relatives, this clan was the closest and dearest.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Claire was my mother’s closest sibling; and, although they both regarded Claire’s husband Harry &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;as a rogue he was loved and well tolerated.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They had two children; both daughters just about the identical ages to my brother and I, we being about a year older.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; We all loved and saw them a lot. They lived in two places in Brighton Beach Brooklyn New York all their lives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Harry was a state licensed meats inspector for the food and drug administrator, responsible primarily for the weights and measures of the scales at all the butcher and delicatessens throughout Brooklyn.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They would visit us or we them every weekend and they would share there plentiful supply of salami, bologna, pastrami, corned beef, specials and frankfurters with Jewish rye bread, rolls and mustard.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If weren’t eating that stuff we’d be either on the boardwalk, under the boardwalk, at the movies, or at Coney Island and Nathan’s.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As you can tell from all of the above we were not bored and we all were very overweight.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Harry had affairs with women but would come back full of repentance and remorse.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Claire and the children did not go with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He had a sister; also named Clara who was a divinely happy woman.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She loved me and spoiled me silly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I was very young she had a paralytic stroke and suffered with this until she died.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They lived on the lower floor of a two story house in a one room apartment until the mid fifties.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This small brick corner house was part of a development of houses gated with walkways and no cars.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their house fronted on a big field where children would play ball, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There ware no stores or shops but trees on the out side and walkways leading on a grid to the neighboring streets.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their address was on 4th street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later they moved to a six-story apartment building with more room nearer to the boardwalk. Harry played handball every day and Claire did her housework.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was feisty and tenacious always being the brunt of Harry’s kind humor.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We was like a Bob Hope, a one liner comedian.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Eventually, both Judy and Barbara got married and moved to Staten island where Judy’s husband Gerald was a lawyer and county commissioner and Barbara’s husband, Gerald  an electrical building inspector.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Two events stand out: one when my aunt Mina returned from one of her overseas flights with presents for all dressed very glamorously and another when dispute the threat of a blizzard Claire, Judy and Barbara visited us on Simpson Street then left only to be stranded in subway platform along with hundreds of others.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They would not sleep over at our house, but we did sleep at their house on the one and only pull out bed in the living room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They both slept in a sun parlor on beds just the depth the alcove.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The last time Christina and I saw Harry and Claire alive was Claire wheeling uncle Harry in a wheel chair on the boardwalk after he had one of his feet amputated. We visited him one last time in the Brooklyn hospital where I had been born. We saw Aunt Claire after she had another stroke at Judy’s house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Then several years later, between 1970-1972 we visited Judy and Barbara where they both tried to convince me to take a stand to force my father and mother to reconcile and if not disown and never see my father again.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They said that if I did not do this they would a longer see me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was a very unfortunate end to a part of our family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We, indeed, had not heard from them since then.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They both had children who by now are grown and married. Recently we  found them and we have corresponded and talked on the telephone remembering, at least just a little of the good feelings between us. There children are grown and they get to see very little of them. Barbara lost one son in an accident.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Irving and Shirley&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Irving comprises the first vivid memory I have of my childhood on Home Street when he came homes from the war in Spain where he fought against Franco. He had his violin and played and I was supposed to sing, when I didn’t sing right he got upset with me and expressed himself which ended our little musical event. As we began we ended a few years ago when we visited my uncle and out of the blue he began screaming at me for being an active minister of the gospel. His daughter Carol called us some later time and, she decided, for Irving’s sake that we should&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;stop seeing him. And have not seen him since. I still dream and remember them very well. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Eventually, his wife Shirley suffered from Alzheimer’s and dear Uncle Irving cared for her daily.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They had one daughter, Sharon  who was a disciple of a yoga guru and was for many years heading up his work in Nova Scotia and they relocated to Denver. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Shirley was born in Biscayne, Florida and came to New York to design.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the forties and early fifties she was the designer of the Schmo doll and the Goodyear blimp inflatable toys for children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Their first apartment was on Columbus Ave with the bathroom outside and the tub in the kitchen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their building, floor ,door and apartment layout were so unique and full of fantasy and discovery. The building had a musty odor and I knew their floor and door. The door was painted black and after climbing so many floors up the carpeted wooden stairs the door opened into the kitchen where my blond haired and cheerful aunt would shower me with kisses and smiles. She made me feel special as though I was the&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;most important person on the planet. She was in love with me and life. She loved my visit ,my pranks, my humor, my keen interest and overwhelmed me with one after the other surprise and mysterious things. All of which she shared with love and pleasure. She and I could not get enough. She’d play records and give me puppets and taught me songs such as “the Zulu warrior”, tent for rent” etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My uncle loved to utter Romanian clichés which Shirley would repeat or say with an apparent foreign&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;accent. It was always charming. She played the accordion and he played  the violin. She’d taught me to play and would never stop me from fiddling noisily in the bedroom. They had no doors but curtains between rooms and their furniture was totally created with blankets, fabrics, lights, etc. Just like I did in my room and later apartments. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Their apartment was a child fantasy and I was absolutely crazy about her and my uncle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’d beg my mother to visit them as often as possible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Aunt Shirley had an accordion and she would let me play it for hours.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She also had marionettes and records of songs and we’d play with the marionettes to the music. “ We are Siamese if you please…and we are Siamese if you don’t please” and I come a zonga ziyo, I come a zonga zey”. They also had a typewriter, which they let me piddle with, and other stuff, which was so interesting. They were interesting people with interesting things.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; In those days she cooked and it was terrible but so wonderful and fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later Irving took over the kitchen. It was so much fun to go to use the shared outside toilet.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;They would take me for walks on Columbus Ave and it was wonderful to hear her talk and show me the stores. She formed my ideal for what creative thinking was all about.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What excitement and delight there was in conversation about color, light, and people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;About peace and all humanity is one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No bigotry.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later I discovered that Irving was a famous writer on Long Island.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was well known for his liberal views covering a wide range of topics from labor to civil rights. It was Magda  and Harold  who told me. They both knew my Uncle’s many article and reputation in the Long Island community around Levitt town. Manhassett, New York where Levitt formed Levittown, New York in Nassau county.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In those years, the American housing industry was not so much an industry as a loose affiliation of local builders, any one of whom completed an average of four houses a year. What Levitt had in mind was 30 to 40 a day. Before the war, Levitt and his brother Alfred had built a few houses on land their father owned in Manhasset, N.Y. And in 1941 the Levitts' won a government contract to provide 2,350 housing units for defense workers in Norfolk, Va. Once the fighting ended, they brought the lessons of that experience to 1,000 acres of potato farms on New York's Long Island 25 miles east of Manhattan. On July 1, 1947, Levitt, then 40, broke ground on the first of what would be 17,000 homes. Uncle Irving and Aunt Shirley moved from their converted cold water flat on Columbus Ave. in Manhattan to Levittown where Shirley gave birth and raised their daughterSahron. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Irving told me often about his early years around the Brooklyn Navy Yard and the social movement for worker’s rights. At first he was part of the crowd and with his friends would hang out and hear about the events and issues. Eventually he went to meetings and later participated. He was never a socialist nor a communist but a free thing liberal believing in the American constitution a s the freedom from tyranny and the right to equal and fair treatment of all in jobs, housing education, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He attended the Martin Luther Jr.'s rally in Washington, Dc and wrote about civil and human rights.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;David and Rose  ( 1,815 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;David  the oldest living child of my grandparents, was my uncle and for over 50 years, husband to my very dear aunt Rose and father to his daughter Beebe and son Maurice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was born in Rhodes about 1900 and lived till the early 90’s. I reckon they were married just before the depression and lived in the west Bronx off 167 street for many years. He, as the other brothers served in the military and was a very unsuccessful salesman.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was the best uncle any young boy could ever hope for.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He would visit us regularly and take me for train rides to the zoo, and park.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I was of age he offered to sell me his old 49 blue ford with a rumble seat in back for $10.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were so close; the concept of me buying any thing from him went right over my head.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And, he was so loving to explain to me how business and commerce works and that I should learn to value such things even from a close blood relative.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the end, the expense and upkeep prevented me from buying and owning my own car. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My dear Aunt Rose, is the super woman of our family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;During the war, to earn money, out of her home she did odd jobs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One of them was bending wire into lampshades for a lampshade company. She was so good and got so many orders she hired several ladies to help her and one day she took me to a vacant store in her neighborhood on 167 street near to Webster Ave where she had the glass painted black and moved in with old tables and began making lamp shades. I remember her taking me by the hand and showing me the store before she rented it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a nice time being with her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This business prospered and got a bit interesting when Dave got out of the army and the war ended and he could not find any work except selling box springs and mattress.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He failed in this and then started selling the springs that went in the mattresses.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Somehow he did well in this and gave my genius aunt the idea of combining the two businesses and making the wire for both the lampshades and the mattress. They rented space in a factory on 138 street and prospered. They then extended the business to making incredible beautiful lampshades for decorators and then metal bases for lamps. They prospered even more and built a beautiful home in New Rochelle, Westchester county.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Uncle Dave became silent partner in a Chrysler dealer on Jerome Ave with his neighbor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjb3CpysI/AAAAAAAAAy0/oN9Wx38OL9I/s1600-h/IMG_0420.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjb3CpysI/AAAAAAAAAy0/oN9Wx38OL9I/s200/IMG_0420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356507768342301378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My cousin Murray all the while often took turns caring for me with my cousin Rosalind and I remember one of the first weddings i ever attended was the marriage of Beebe.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Beebe had attended Vassar College and was our oldest cousin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Murray meanwhile attended Manhattan Business College where he studied business administration with a major in marketing in preparation to manage aunt Rose’s business.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My dad introduced Murray to a very attractive and personable salesgirl at Weiss bridal gown and after a reasonably long courtship they were married. Dorothy and I were always good friends and she was so nice to me as I was growing up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mr. and Mrs. Kalena, and her sister lived two blocks from us on Intervale Avenue and would visit us often.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I owe my current life to my aunt Rose.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She changed every thing for me. When I was seventeen, graduating high school, my loving girlfriend Arlene demanded that we get married and move to spring valley where we would proceed to have 6 children and i would manage her father’s liqueur distribution business.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Aunt Rose would not hear of this and packed Dave and herself into our Packard limousine with my dad and my brother and we went for two weeks to Miami Beach. We lodged at the Lido hotel on Collins and 4&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; street. And for two weeks she introduced me to every attractive girl and lectured me on being responsible for my own destiny and career.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To take time to find my self and get a proper education.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Well it worked, when I got back I met with Arlene and in a terrible tearful hour we ended our three-year romance.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My aunt Rose and uncle Dave always made their home in New Rochelle available to us, especially for the years when grandma lived with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They gave grandma a lovely room and cared for her so well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We still were the ones to pick her up and take her to the doctor on Moshula parkway.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The business prospered more and soon "Stylecraft",  were in LA and Chicago and every trade fair throughout the USA with show rooms in every major us city. But dear aunt Rose never stopped working, even though her company now run by her son, and several of our uncles and cousins was doing more than fine. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Rose, Dave and grandma moved to an apartment building in Westchester and Murray and Dorothy moved into the big house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They also had a house by the sea in Long Beach. Aunt rose loved to garden.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Finally, after years of suffering with leukemia she passed away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She left behind two very successful children, grandchildren and great grandchildren; and, me, a very grateful nephew who will always remember the love and care of an aunt and special person.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When I think of the fifties at its best with all its goodness and charm I think of this clan. They epitomized and went as far as one could go with the fifties, its conformity, oppression, and repetitions. Aunt rose was desperate so she started a business in a store front based ON repetition at a time when adopting military and mass production methods was coming of age. To the lamp business. Coupled with her passion to provide her son and daughter she wanted them to have the best so she entered the world of the conformist and the suburb at its best. She built a house costing forty thousand dollars in New Rochelle and hob nobbed with decorators and manufactures of repetitions products of lamps , lampshades and gifts. Determined to win and succeed she went my cousin &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Beebe to the epitome women training center of the northeast: Wellesley . Her son Maurice she sent to Manhattan College of business. They were not for education but training for succeeding in a competition of the hearts and minds of the USA consumer. To manufacture and distribute decorative its that were&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;metaphors &lt;/span&gt;of rightness and protocol for the top of the middle calls line. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; After encouraging me to drop Arlene and go to college they found that I had become&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;creative and very talented designer and design professional. This was neither who they were nor whom they associated with. So I did not fit nor could be considered&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;as a friend and part of their world. I was shunned and kept at a distance. A distance which I soon adopted and developed to lead me to further creativity and adventure in anarchy, free expression, invention and creativity. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Other full name streets honor business founders. George Farcus Square at the northwest corner of Fordham Road and the Concourse is named for the founder of the Alexander's Department Store, while &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rose Boulevard&lt;/span&gt; honors the woman who began a business whose factory anchored Walnut Avenue. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bruce Farcus&lt;/span&gt; was one of my father’s passengers and I sometime visited him and his home in Westchester county. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Of all the clans this clan had a sense of itself as a potential “Dynasty”. The only problem with any dynasty is that it makes every thing else  especially its members under the banner that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Outsiders are part of the: French ”milieu” which in translates as “the rest of us”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So there is the dynasty and the rest of us. Unfortunately it seems that this has kept this clan so separate form the other members of the family. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Pauline and Victor Abolofia: ( 1301 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Pauline (1907-recently ) was one of the oldest of the daughters.She married Victor Abolofia whose name in Aramaic means Arab . They lived just west of Amsterdam Ave on 99 street in a 6-story walk up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their building was attached to several others in which some of victor’s relatives lived.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have recently received emails from some of these people who now live in New Jersey. Victor was a florist who sold his flowers out of a pushcart throughout the neighborhood. They had 4 beautiful children all of who were our friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother and Pauline were very god friends and we visited them often.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Pauline had a view of her family, which was unique and humorous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Rebecca, her oldest daughter was a beauty with long black hair, high check bones, and a slender figure.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was a very proper lady with a vivacious and charismatic personality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oscar, her oldest son, now a famous paparazzi, was a tall, dark and very handsome boy… very quiet and kept him self-private. In the early seventies he married a Swedish lady and moved to 98 street (where they still live).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Irving was less involved with the family, but he later opened his own florist shop on east 96 street and later moved to New Jersey to run a flower distribution business.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Last, but not least was dear Louis.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He and I became roommates in 1964.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Meaning, he lived with me in my apartment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He finally found out that he was supposed to share the expenses and for that matter he preferred to find his own place on Broadway around 98 street in a former dance club.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There he blossomed as an artist and soon decided to become a super star.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All of these thoughts and ideas we shared and developed together and, he just dared to do them. Later, Christina, Louis and John Jackson and I would gallivant around New York. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Later, when we moved to New Haven Louis’ career as “superstar” had reached network TV and national proportions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whenever we wanted to connect with the mid sixties happening /psychedelic/ whatever we merely called and went with Lou (or Max Waldman) to whatever event he was going to that day. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Aunt Pauline, his sister (Reba) and Oscar were sort of out of it throughout this period.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Uncle Victor died, somehow dear Reba lived with some guy and aunt Pauline began to do hospital volunteer work; she did this till she died. Louis relocated to San Francisco and several years later we heard that he had committed suicide.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Louis I knew could not have done this!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was always optimistic and tenacious without the ability to be beat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would always attack and find his way out building bridges and making connections.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The winding stair up to their apartment on 99 street was made of wood forming an open well in the center.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You could see up to the ceiling above or the floor below.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You entered their apartment to the kitchen on the right and on the left a very dark few rooms. Then through a corridor to the living room on the right. Partitioned with curtain into severla rooms.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The walls were draped in rugs and madras tapestries and paintings. It was always dark and moody. I never really knew how many rooms were in the whole place; even though we explored it constantly it somehow was well masked to and curtained. So mystical and wonderful.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was to Pauline that my mom and I came the days they had announced that Russia had the atom bomb.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was terrified, and, my mother was oblivious. So was aunt Pauline, but she listened and hugged me and assured me that all would be well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I believed her and it was. I never knew why Pauline and Grandma did not see each other until I realized that Victor was a Turk and grandma had a negative opinion of them. When she got angry at me and wanted to say I was bad she called me ”tuerqa”(Turk)&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;My mother thought is was a women to women disagreement; that Pauline was too out spoken&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and would not be told one thing when another was true. She spoke her mind. I beleive this outward ness was what attracted these two, but what also kept them separate from the others in the family. So I remember it. And, I remember the family with much joy and affection.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This family taught me to identify with the values and history of our family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Lou was so proud of his roots and always told the names of famous people who were our distant cousins, such as Steve and Edie Gormet. Moreover, they were a part of the family who did not leave the original neighborhood where grandma and grandpa raised the family. Oscar and Reba are still there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are so very special and worthy of our love and attention. Oscar’s work has been recently published in a retrospect of his work in a very famous photography journal. Louie’s paintings are enjoying a comeback at a famous art gallery.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Louis Abolofia &lt;/span&gt;was born in New York City, and showed early talents for art. He excelled in art classes in public school, and was given a scholarship to the Museum of Modern Art. His work brought him the early titles of "child prodigy" and "artistic genius". He became a 'regular' down in Greenwich Village of NYC. Mingling with such notable inhabitants as Bob Dylan, who stated "Louis...demystifies...shining like a light". Comments such as these were the stimulus to get Louis to begin his interest in the political world. He ran for Mayor, Governor, and in 1968 began his candidacy to run for the office of The President of the United States on the 'Love ticket'. He appeared in his political posters and in real life in the nude, proclaiming "What have I got to hide?” He became quite a celebrity and received his '15 minutes of fame' on TV shows like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin&lt;/span&gt;. He ultimately received 300,000 write-ins votes!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He continued painting all the while and formed the first 'runaway shelter' in the United States. He gained additional notoriety when he walked into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and freely hung an unframed 7-foot painting of his own on the wall next to "The Thinker" by Rodin. He began a relationship with Salvador Dali after that event. Abolofia’s &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;works were exhibited for a show in the Crespi Gallery in New York, as well as the John J. Myers Gallery and the East River Savings Bank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;His art style was described by an art magazine as a painter of "swirling cosmic abstractions, best at painting the inhabitants of a fantasy world somewhere between the humorous and the macabre". He felt that he could see through people as if 'an x-ray machine'. Louis used color to tell us about people he painted. Many of his paintings were introspective and were morose in style and colors, and perhaps gave us a clue into Abolofia's inner conflict. The bright colors and broad-brush strokes are quite distinctive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He moved to San Francisco in 1974, where he painted and became involved in promotional activities that led to creation of the "Exotic-Erotic Ball", the largest Halloween Ball, and an attempt to relive the exuberance of the 60's. Much of his artworks have the feel of a costume party, and is very stimulating, exciting to the senses, with all the colors that partygoer’s display. He produced thousands of artworks and we bring just a few to you in this retrospective. We hope that this show gives you an understanding for this artist, philosopher, politician, musician, and kind soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Regina and Sam: ( 261 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Regina (aunt Gene) was the oldest sister of the family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her first husband had died and she had a daughter Margaret from that marriage. My father, brother and i attended that wedding in Cincinnati around 1948. Sam and gene had a daughter named Rosalind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A real beauty and registered nurse.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She would care for me as child.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have pictures of her pushing me around in my carriage. Sam loved to fish and in the early fifties they left Cincinnati and moved to Coral Gables, Florida.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He bought a boat and fished d every day. We would visit them and Sam would take me fishing with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who showed me how to hook bait and catch and remove hook from fish’s mouth?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I remember my father getting very drunk one night in Cincinnati and my aunt gene cured him with a concoction of lemon juice.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Rosalind used her nursing skills on me the day i got blisters from sitting in the Miami sun talking to a bathing beauty.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Gene love to play cards and in both Cincinnati and Coral Gables had a card table set up in the front porch for entertaining.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She planted tomatoes and was boisterous and hardy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her passing brought my father to sadness and grief.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Christina and I visited Rosalind in a manufactured home in Coral Gables in the seventies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At that time she and her daughter were living alone separated from her husband. The place was a mess and she was not very friendly; we left and never heard from them again.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Jack (1902-) and Leah : (281 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I did not get to know neither Jack nor Leah well. Jack was blind and Leah was always sick.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I do not believe she spoke English.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She  like Betty was very well able to communicate with my grandma.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can remember the harsh high tones of Jack’s voice as he spoke, laughed and explained his suffering to grandma.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would visit grandma when I was there and they would talk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I remember where they lived.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was on a cross street where now the cross-bronx expressway is.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I remember the street and when we’d visit Eli, Abe and I playing in the street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Jack and Leah had three children: Jennifer (Jenny); Eli and Abe.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Jenny would visit with my mom and spend time helping her with household chores.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Jenny was not retarded but had the mind of a child.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was the oldest of all the cousins.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When she was at our house she and I would talk for hours. We got along well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was very nice ;a big lady and very gentle. I recall her getting rattled and upset; I remember her crying.; I remember her laughing; she did all of these openly because we were together as a family. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I remember when grandma died, Jack and went tot the gravesite and I held his hand and escorted him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Christina and I saw Eli at a family function and met his daughter. Eli has been working for Murray  for many years.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Abe was  a buyer for Barnes and Noble living in the Bronx. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Frank and Helen  ( 400 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I can vaguely remember Frank coming home from the army, but remember him in uniform.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My dad and his brother got along very well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Early on in my father’s business my dad employed Frank so we saw a lot of him. He was always a very serious man, but had a god nature.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He and his wife eventually moved to a very beautiful split-level 30’s style apartment in Washington Heights.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The floors were all parquet wood with steps leading up to the living room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whenever I saw a Joan Crawford movie with big living rooms I’d think of my glamorous Aunt Helen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I was 12, Frank referred me to work during the summer as a delivery boy in a grocery on his block. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So once a week I got to deliver their groceries.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They had a daughter, Linda.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She recently died of cancer.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was the prettiest little brunette girl and, with such cute ways.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, several summers later my dad was awarded the transportation contract for “camp Cricklewood” and, at the age of sixteen, i became a camp counselor for the summer only; and, Linda was one our campers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; So we got to know each other even more. I was nearly ten years her senior.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hardly noticed her but made sure she was well cared for by my colleagues.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was not in my group.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They had a son, his name is Benjamin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is now a dentist with an office on Wacker Drive in Chicago, Ill.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Years later in the late sixties Linda had married a relative of Jack Lalane and called us on the phone from Arizona inviting my wife an i to some event involving wife swapping.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We politely declined and did never hear from dear Linda again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We sometimes saw Frank when we visited my aunt Roses’s lamp business in the Bronx.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Frank worked there in the production area.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He had sold vegetables but this seemed to be the job that best suited him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Jamie (Hy) and Bertha &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father’s older brother, Jamie and his wife Bertha lived on the upper floor of a about a fifteen story building in the middle of southern boulevard with their daughter Harriet, Bertha sister Evelyn and her husband, Morris (Mo). Their niece Myrna was there more often than with her parents. The apartment was huge opening into a very long single loaded corridor opening onto several bedrooms and bathrooms and ending with the living room through which you entered the kitchen which faced and had the best view of the boulevard. I can only remember my dear aunt Bertha being sick and finally in her deathbed. And I remember those last days when she finally died giving birth to my cousin Steve. But it was not the birth of the child, which caused her death but her illness, which I recall, as being diabetes. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Mo (Morris) sold vegetables, Myrna’s father, Irving, was a house painter and Hy still worked in the same shoe shop in Harlem my grandfather worked near 101 street and Lenox Ave in Harlem. Occasionally my dad would stop by and visit Hy at his work blocking hats. . Hy was then a very jovial man whose his wife’s illness and his helplessness  characterized his personality. He was a good and moral man.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; All the members of this family were the first and last to care for my mother when in 1947, soon after we had moved to Simpson Street, suffered a major hemorrhage due to a miscarriage of what would have been another child in our family. I remember the day it happened and my mother called to me from the bathroom to call and get help from the neighbors. I just ran from door to door on our floor till finally someone came. I ran around the corner and to Evelyn, Mo and Bertha and they came immediately to help my mother recover. Needless to say our families remained very close.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjcWE7wWI/AAAAAAAAAy8/umclcVzSR_c/s1600-h/IMG_0416.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYjcWE7wWI/AAAAAAAAAy8/umclcVzSR_c/s200/IMG_0416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356507776673366370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As we grew and visited we kept up with each other and when we moved from Simpson Street Harriet introduced me to one of her friends and later when she Harriet married we danced at her wedding. It was a splendid wedding. Harriet was so beautiful in her white gown. The tables were so filled with food.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Harriet is very much as I left her a very large heavyset woman with a gentle and loving manner. Very witty and a great memory for detail .She has a very responsible job with the government where she lives supervising an entire department reviewing applications for welfare programs to help the poor and needy. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alissa, Harriet’s daughter, is a teacher and settling back in the USA after having spent 2 years in the VISTA program teaching in the Ukraine. She now attends teachers college for her master’s degree in teaching. And teaches full time in Brooklyn. This way she earns a hefty salary and applies what she learns.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Alissa is tall with olive skin and long black curly hare. She is very beautiful and full of life and enthusiasm. She has a great mind and gentle spirit. It is difficult for her to find a male partner who she can respect and be compatible. They want either too much or too little. She has a lot to give and needs someone with a big capacity to receive. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Harriet and Alissa are so very kind and thoughtful caring for Mo and Evelyn visiting and attending to there needs at every holiday and free time. They visit us as they can. Harriet’s husband died several years ago.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Evelyn Mednick died March 14, 2005 due to complications of Pneumonia but not before she and Christina could become good friends and enjoy the joy of life and the glamor of conversation about her art and her home. She was the Mother Steve never knew and Harriet needed. Her passing was a great loss to family and friends. The rabbi at the grave site spoke about the meaning of the Jews covering mirrors so as to remember the deceased and recall that, as she cannot be seen as the covered looking glass so she must be remembered in our mind to be imagined. It quickens us about our life’s short and illusory quality. He was charismatic and Pentecostal in his manner and candor. We read from Psalm 23 and Steve and Harriet read the proverb about the loving mother and wife. They both gave there separate last words about how loving and caring a surrogate mother Evelyn was to them. The Star of David Cemetery in Tamarack is burial site for Jamie and Irving as well. At home I sat with Mo and his brother Hy as they had a shot of whiskey and remembered things that had passed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Irving and Betty : ( 544 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As with many of those whom  Dad’s brothers married I know very little..&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was so true in Betty's case.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was a quiet person with a patronizing and polite manner who referred to the societal “they” as a determining force to be reckoned with. She had two daughters and one son and her husband was a most successful salesman for the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Estelle was older that Owen and me by four years and she attended Christopher Columbus high school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was she and my uncle Irving who permitted me to use there address so that I would qualify to attend her high school rather than Morris High which was in the worst part of our area know for shootings and stabbing as regular daily events.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Irving  was probably born in Harlem around 1916 and matured in the midst of the depression.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I cannot remember any other place they lived aside from Burr Ave in Pelham Bay, Bronx. He was known for his joviality and incisive wit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When entering anyone’s home he would go into every room and check all the drawers and closets.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would then sit down and talk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He chided and prompted me as a child and we would visit his home weekly to see Grandma.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;During those hundreds of visits we got to know Estelle, Honey and Owen very well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Owen always got very high marks in school and when he graduated High School Science he got a full scholarship to Dartmouth, Harvard and Oxford including all expense for his future bride. As it turned out when Owen graduated Oxford he was appointed clerk to supreme court justice Thurgood Marshall, and, when the riots broke out in the sixties was flown in to he middle of Watts representing Marshall.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Owen is now Sterling Professor of law at Yale where he served as vice dean of law and writes numerable case analysis for the court and books on the law.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Owen never got a driver’s license nor passed the bar but he is an international authority on the law.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Estelle married Joseph  and moved to Long Island.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They have children.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Honey married a doctor and has had children. She divorced her first husband and is now married again working as a speech therapist.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; After Irving’s death Betty went to work as a sales lady in department store before passing away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She was always as fine hostess and every time I came into her home she welcomed me with a gracious smile.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All of her children greatly take after her and not Irving. She was a great cook preparing old world specialties.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She and grandma made a good cooking team.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I always remember visiting there building, first seeing them at the side window which led into there living room and bedrooms; parking in front, and walking under the canvas canopy and into the huge medieval decorated lobby, with throne chairs and intercom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later when Stella married she move to across the hall so we’d see her before.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I visited Owen and His wife in the sixties in Chicago. They were both actively working on a campaign for the Democratic Party. Owens library was filed with law books and his writings.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Murray and Jeanette: ( 271 words)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Of all my Dad’s brothers Murray is the one whose life' choices mostly paralleled my own and yet of all the brothers I know him least.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Part of the reason is he relocated early out of New York to Maine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After the army, he went to university of Illinois to study architecture.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When he graduated he met his wife Jeanette and they got married.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I remember this wedding so well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was a psychology major and later wrote and taught.  I can remember for Christmas we always received a lovely hand painted artwork card.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I spoke to him several times as I confronted career and educational choices and he introduced me to a fellow classmate of his Alex Goldfine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Alex, Christina and his office mate Bob Hagenhoffer were to be come great friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Their office was in the Picasso building where we lived when we came back from Puerto Rico. Alex was on the LME board and we had a wonderful birthday party in a special room for Christina at the Yale clubs together.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Murray and Jeanette had children, whom we never met, but have begun communicating with us on the Internet; and, Murray managed a school for special students in Maine for many years.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Jeanette taught at a Jesuit college. His art works are collected by museums. They now live in California as atheists. One of there children is the planner for Vancouver (he is an architect), another a biochemist and a third a computer graphics professor and practitioner.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My parents met at the famous Palladium dance hall in Manhattan and dated for only a few months before my father proposed to my mother. &lt;i style=""&gt;The Palladium was named after, Andrea Palladio, (1508–80,) an Italian architect of the Renaissance. Palladio's first important work (begun 1549) was to rebuild the medieval town hall, the basilica at Vicenza. He designed arches supported on minor columns and framed between larger engaged columns. Each of these arch-and-column compositions formed what is termed a “Palladian motif” and was much imitated&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I can assure you that my parents or any one of the attendees of any o f even vaguely knew none of this the palladium, even today.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; The Palladium is now in its third location on Fourteenth Street. After being closed for many years, it was reopened in 1951 on Broadway and 53 street as a Latin dance hall and then closed. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The original where my parents met was on east 126 street closer to where my father lived in Harlem. This part of Harlem was called Spanish Harlem because from 1917, it was where the Puerto Ricans settled after having been granted citizenship. Parenthetically the Broadway location became the home of the “mambo” and the now famous Salsa then led by the Cubans, especially Tito Puente. We later saw his son perform in Fort Myers. I can easily see why the first twenty years of my life was dominated and fixated on music, big bands and the sound of dance music. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yet it was these time, these metaphors and these media events that sidetracked most away form their tumults, precious anomie’s and faulty education. It kept most humming and whistling agreement to the solutions the society and government presented and led most to endure the work, social displacement and shelving of there dreams for the actual hard work it would take to rebuild America’s industry, economy and values. They would not be what they had been. Women worked and fought the war; Indians died defending America’s freedoms. There would be neither place for discrimination nor intolerance for equality. Indeed, Americans met at places as if the Palladium to be overwhelmed and succumb to someone else’s dream and be carried through these times.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As the story goes my parents had been dating and traveling on the train between Manhatten and Brooklyn when they both concluded that it would be more economical and expeditious to marry and save the carfare and two rentals The dance hall was not Roseland but its nearby competitor. I do not remember its name. It is mentioned in songs by Sarah Vaughn and count Basie and could be a name like “Concordia...”There meeting and honeymoon seem to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to them There is practically nothing I can remember about there early years that smacks of love, affection, romance or happiness. I’m sure it must have been there, except I can’t recall.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The most devastating and insidious damage to there individual lives and the lives of my brother and I was my parents marriage. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; They were married May 14, 1936, the same month as both their births. I know the date, because, aside from all major Holidays and our birthdays, we, too, celebrated their wedding Anniversary. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There are photographs, which my mother would show us of them in Lake Placid on their honeymoon. They were models of the times, well-dressed fashionable and very beautiful! Wearing furs, hats, gloves, suits, dresses, stockings, etc. Looking very slims and fit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They had so much in common and yet were such opposites. They were unable to reconcile their differences and my father was determined eventually to make another life and develop his business at the same time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Never the less they both, in there own way, honored there marriage vows. My father never disserted his children, and supported her till the end. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Knowing that my father had another family he was living with and supporting, she let him spend several nights a week in her bed and our home. This lasted even till Holland Ave until 1959 when my brother finished high school. Then he and Lea officially opened their apartment in Riverdale. I cannot begin to know the misery, pain and anguish my mother suffered. I could only hold her and try to be her best friend. I always knew it was insufficient, but I could only do all that I could do. I loved my mother so much and wanted to make her life right. I did all that I could. It was not enough!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The burden it placed on my brother and I; on both their families. It was a shame on them and our clan to heir brothers and sisters were enormous. The blemish of that condition still endures with my cousins because their parents never really got to know my parents and us very well. It was a shame and the source of low personal esteem in our outlook. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; At that time marriage separations and as today divorce was a sin and a bad thing. It wasn’t done nor even discussed. It was not the source of movies, books and music. My friends and relatives limited their exposure. My mother rarely would welcome visitors from my father’s family and her family never really adjusted to it all. For example, my very dear cousins Judy and Barbara would not see Christina and I any more until I would take sides with my mother and bring my father back. My cousin meant well and was expressing my greatest hope. My other cousins really did not want to associate with us fearing that somehow this would affect their marriage. The facts of the relationship were just not conducive for the kind of open and loving communications, which are normal to families. It is also why today many of my cousins and their children know very little about my brother and myself.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As a child I never stopped loving each of my parents. I believe it would have been best if they worked out their differences. My father did not do him self, or, the family he joined any good. My mother did not do any thing good for us by being so stubborn and angry toward my father. They both would have greatly profited by an early relationship with Jesus. I do believe they both learned that without forgiveness there is only destruction and devastation. Marriage is a calling by God and not honored leaves God’s will disconnect and incompatible with basic life’s needs and necessities. I believe they both would have lived twenty years longer and prospered ways beyond their imagination. They would have bought and owned property and the business would have continued to be successful, perhaps run by Saul or myself. Our family connections would have blossomed and developed. I suppose it was from carrying this secret and social duality that Saul and I learned to keep other cultural and social secrets. We became guarded and defensive with our mind filled with our status and its social disgrace amongst both strangers and friends. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In order to keep secret there respective financial and business value and worth from my mother my father and Lea was very secretive. In order to keep her financial status and value secret from my father and Lea my mother was reticent as well. Both sides believe I was spying on them for the other. My parents never told me about their accounts, debts and assets for fear I’d tell the other. Consequently, the last ten years our visits and communications were always shouded by covering up and not talking openly about many other things as well. Additionally, I also believed that Dad and Lea intended Jackie to take over their business. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Lea’s son Jackie eventually committing suicide in Arizona exemplifies what instead happened. Jackie and Patricia married, had children, separated and divorced. I later came to find out that for many years Jackie was on drugs and my father was addicted to morphine to kill his pain. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My parents made a great team; my father was generous, kind, friendly and yielding. He was a great strategist and wise in his business dealings. My mother was Teutonic and principled. She knew right from wrong. With God’s love. Patience, tolerance and faith together God’s blessings would have bought them the love and peace which only comes from a loving relationship with God. My parents both found God and his will separately.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother, may she rest in peace, always wanted my father to be there more for me; there was not, in her eyes, enough of my father for me; and, I was too much for her. She needed help and did not get it! All those early years she was crying out.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I thank God that in my late teens, I did realize this for her sake and mine. I could comfort her and make up for what we did not get and I could seek the help she knew I needed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My parents wanted their children to have what they did not have and to be different and better than they were. They did not want for us to follow them or be like them. In my judgement my mother was called to be a parent. My father was not. My father had many other positive attributes and he supported my mother and us. He even cared about us feeling good. My mother was very upset because she realized that her children needed two parents. She was not called to be both mother and father. She was frustrated that my father was not the kind of parent I needed. My mother had three&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;brothers and two sisters and my father had two sisters and nine brothers. My dad just wanted to provide what he did not have, while my mother wanted to parent us. She realized we need nurturing, education, and care. To deal to learn how to be a man. She felt that all my father wanted to do is to have a good time. My father did not listen and no one cared nor credited her for her struggle. I did. I recognized this was what I needed and what upset her. All I could do is love and care for her and try to calm her by demonstrating I found what was needed elsewhere. Thanks to God!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was blessed by God to have such love in my life!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I regret not being able to share our very modest security and peace with my parents. It would be a wonderful time for us after all they and I have been through to enjoy something really nice. I often think of them at dinnertime or when we swim with many of our very elderly friends of how it could have been with my parents living here with us. Most of this life contains its many challenges and in the end we live to be at peace with ourselves and those anomie’s and events, peoples that happened so long ago.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Marriage :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;To answer my Mother’s complaints about the nationality of the women I dated I challenged her to arrange meetings for me which she rejected. However I was serious. For the effort and struggle I had to endure to get my self into a position to become acquainted with any female was difficult. Where as I knew in other cultures these things are done in many ways including kidnapping. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The custom of bride kidnapping is an ancient marriage tradition in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet Republic in Central Asia. When a Kyrgyz man decides to marry, he often abducts the woman he has chosen. Typically, he and several friends hire a car, stake out his bride-to-be's movements, snatch her off the street, and take her to the groom's family home. A delegation is then sent to her family. The abducted woman is held until someone from her family arrives to determine whether they will accept the "proposal" and she will agree to marry her kidnapper. In Pakistan and India young girls are bought and sold and Saudi deals are struck within tribes between blood relatives for sibling, cousin and sister marriages. The argument is that it is dangerous and causes death and the ones who survive are strong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;On the other hand my attitude toward marriage was a more ideal version of finding a soul whose spirit was ordained by God to share life including its hopes, dreams, fantasy in&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;a bond of loyally and integrity where truth and honor reign. Where home and heart are shadows only match by heaven and our eternal bond with God. To me this is marriage and all else is an ironic nightmare. Marriage is the songs of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lehar, Romberg, Gershwin, Porter, and Jerome Kern’s: “&lt;/span&gt;All the things you are”. But I was sure I still could find that mate if my mother and her friends simply paraded them before me. Right! They did no such thing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;1 peter 3&lt;br /&gt;7 Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honour unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life; that your prayers be not hindered.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/cgi-bin/bible?passage=GEN+2:24&amp;amp;language=english&amp;amp;version=KJV&amp;amp;showfn=on&amp;amp;showxref=on"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Genesis 2:24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;A Not-so-typical Bronx Mother &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The little I know about Anne before I was born (and knew her as my ever present and attentive mother), I gleaned from her answers to my questions, old photos, her Brother Irving’s stories, visits, speculation and my vivid imagination. The rest I have had to piece and patch together from research and investigation. She was not very helpful and stubbornly resisted revealing herself and her past. However, ordinary and “unspecial” she viewed herself, she cared and slaved to keep her children well. However, she conveyed this attitude to us as being a part of the milieu and Great Sea of the poor and disenfranchised. We were not the Rockefellers, Astor’s, Melons, etc. She would say:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“Who do you think you are? Rockefeller?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What my mother didn’t tell me about her past she well made up for in her behavior in the present so that if behavior is any sign of a person’s upbringing perhaps her behavior spoke volumes. By this and the fact that we saw very little of her parents I could imagine that she had been possibly abused and treated severely as a child. She definitely had a sense of who she was and her identity. She told me her parents were strict with her not letting her date unless chaperoned and they measured her time out and return very carefully. It was a Victorian and strict home. I sensed it was very different from my Father’s parents. I later realized what I had been observing about her, my father and most of my family that they had been alienated from there nationality, heritage, ancestry and context of origin. They both passed this sense of alienation on to me and alienation became my persona.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She read books and magazines (Red Book, in particular); enjoyed movies and listened to the radio and later watched television. She had hazel green eyes and a lovely Brooklyn Bronx New York accent. She’d say “yeahh”; ”Sawel” ; ”wauta” ; and loved to make up songs about things that came up: She’d say such things as its better to be safe than sorry; “and keep yow yap shut”.&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;She loved housework and keeping busy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Because she was one of six children and part of an overall immigrant population, and because she lived next to the Brooklyn Nay Yard and because who worked for large and much wealthier employers my mother never developed a sense of her self as being special. She had a neither low nor high self-esteem but saw herself as usual, averages and part of the working and disenfranchised class. A point of view she and my father shared. They were one of many.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She had two sisters and three brothers: from the oldest to the youngest, the oldest, Martin became an accountant; her sister, Mina a business woman, who worked in the theater production and film distribution business and married several times; Charles, who worked in sales in the Bronx, Clara who was a faithful wife to her husband Harry, and the youngest, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Irving, who was a writer and active advocate of liberal causes. My mother and others during the fifties misunderstood him as being a communist.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He volunteered and fought on the side of the Spaniards against Franco. While my mother was tolerant she met her limit with Irving whose controversial borderline views was not acceptable. So here my mother was a bigot against a man who thought he was an advocate against bigotry. In the end she was right as the last time I saw him he became enraged at my faith and call to ministry. This from an atheists and man advocating tolerance and acceptance. It was disappointing and a shame. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;During the second world war I remember her enjoying the block parties on Faile Street and dressing up to go out with my father to friends and neighbors. She looked and smelled beautiful.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Julie and Sylvia would baby sit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I got to know her neighborhood well as I dated Barbara Allen who lived on the other side of Myrtle Ave in converted cold water flat and when I worked part-time as a glass etcher on Myrtle Ave.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Cecilia, her childhood friend would often visit and call, occasionally we’d visit and other friend in Brooklyn. In our family scrapbook were pictures of my mother with Cecelia dressed so pretty and smiling. Mom was at ease on the trains, trolleys, and buses; especially in her home borough of Brooklyn. We lived in the Bronx where my father worked, but my mother was a born Brooklynite.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;From the photos in her album, I could see that she loved fashion and dressing well. Even, during the forties, fifties and sixties my mother always dressed well, in taffeta, with the under crenalyns an before that with the fashionable and required girdles, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She had another childhood friend named Tess.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’d visit her and family somewhere near Atlantic Ave in Brooklyn, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She lived in the lower floor of a brownstone owned by her parents who lived above. It always smelled from urine due to unwashed sheets, cats and babies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a mess.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Finally my mother agreed not to see her again unless she could clean her house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was the last time we saw Tess.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the neighborhood and travel to Tess took us through classic vintage parts of Brooklyn, by train, trolley, factories and long streets of brownstones.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was later to see such similar streets selling ice cream for Good Humor.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I could tell little about the years before she met my father except by her excellent penmanship and ability to spell and do arithmetic.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was well equipped to live in foreign borough and adapted well to finding the places to shop and carry out life’s routines. I gathered that she worked for most of her years as a seamstress and receptionist. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I could only surmise that place of employment was the garment center.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He knew Manhattan very well, and would love to take us to the lobby of the Astor Hotel to sit and have a cup of coffee.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She would take us to a Tafenetii’s restaurant, which is now on the same site as Nathan’s. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She loved to get out of the house and the immediate neighborhood. Often, with pots and bags of food she would take us on the train and or bus to the beach, Shore Haven Beach Club (with barbecue chicken from the Westchester Ave. Delicatessen), Broadway and Forty Second Street to the Arcades, Movies, and restaurants; to the Kaye’s in Brighten, Abolofia’s, Julie and Silvia’s, Charles and Jean, Blooms, Tess in Brooklyn Shirley and Irving on Columbus Avenue. And, shopping to Alexander’s on Third Ave., Mace’s and Gimbals, and thousands of nightly walks on Southern Boulevard and the Park. In the park she would make sure we used the equipment such as the swings and monkey bars and sliding ponds. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She bought us a bike and helped us learn to ride.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She made sure we knew the park attendant so I could play indoors and perform with my puppets. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She would take us to the movies followed by Chinese lunch.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I always ate the same thing: egg drop soup, chicken chow Mein, tea and ice cream.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The waiter knew our favorites and us by heart. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She always said we should eat to live and not live to eat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tended to do the ladder.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She laughed and brought herself to have joy with her little children. She had a great sense of humor, which she applied to bodily functions. She had words and expressions for each and used them with laughter and acceptance. Everything including  scratch when itching and she did and we would scratch each other’s itches. She would tickle us and we’d tickle her. There was the pains and hurts  she happily mends and cares.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Her New York City accent was undeniable Brooklyn with a bit of learned Bronx:” Oh, yehhh” she’d say, and gemme dat; comein, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She sang: “Happy Birthday” and we made a recording of a song she made up"” had a lot of fun today, what do you think daddy will say that, we had a good time! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She was so candid commenting on people’s dress and behavior. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; There was also mystery and adventure as she would take us shopping for girdles at a specialty woman’s girdle shop at the intersection of East 163 /rd Street and Westchester Ave.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I would beg her to let me stay outside but because of the neighborhood brought us in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It was incredibly embarrassing but interesting the way the proprietor behaved and then my Mom modeled to see if it fit, etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Yes, it fit and everything in this store was very nice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; With deep respect and speaking of girdles , when we’d go out she would have to wear all of this parfianlia and when we’d come home she’d rush into her bedroom and remove all of this and lay down to relax and was so happy, almost giddy at the relief, it was good to be home. She put on her house dress and begin her chores.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was a little spoiled about these things already from my experiences with my Dad at Weiss’s bridal and gown shop watching the ladies try on and model the wedding gowns. It was all very feminine, dressy and pretty.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She loved Wednesday night because she grew with the custom of “beau night”, where her parents would let her be taken out by someone on a date to a movie, dance, etc. So she always mentioned ‘beau night. ’Tragically all of this innocence and lovely nice things were buried in the anguish and strife of intolerance, disdain, anger, and Scapegoat. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother would occasionally cry and sometimes let me hold her hand while other times she’d say: just go away and leave me alone”. Other times she’d sit alone and stair out the window or read. She could be very silent and still.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother and my father’s brothers got along very well. They visited her often.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She did Julie’s nails and later gave my electric train and outgrown cloths to Julie and Sylvia for their son, Mike. Including my electric trains and black leather jacket. I recall Julie’s many visits, Frank, Dave and the other visited. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; This neighborhood was one that I usually traversed with my father in the car as he went to Prospect Ave. to work at Weiss.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I recall her amusement when we bought her presents: for example, she would always ruin steak, so we bought her a big and beautiful state of the art chrome electric broiler (the steaks got a little better). I bought her a music box ballerina, which she kept always in her window and looked and played it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Her view of politicians was consistent and without distinctions from one to another: “they are all crooks and liars”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She never liked the public life, preferring her privacy. My mother had a great sense of humor, laughed hard and hearty in a lady like fashion. She bathed me as a child and later told me to get into the tub and she’d be there in a moment and soon did not come.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, I started bathing myself. She commanded my brother and me to stop fighting; or, would ask who started it. She would often get our names mixed up; calling me Saul and my brother, Barie. We found this to be very amusing. On Simpson Street we had Chiffarobe and no built in closets for our cloths. She was challenged as to storing our cloths.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My mother was “&lt;u&gt;the&lt;/u&gt;” Urbanite and the Ultimate cosmopolitan Lady.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She never left the city. I can count on one hand the number of times she traveled out of the city for any reason. My father traveled a little. My mother and father were born, lived and died in the city. My mother did not drive nor was she so motivated. She depended on public transportation for all her social, commercial and personal needs. My father was mobile and in the transportation business. Both had urban minds; navigating, adopting, and communicating.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Twenty years before she died she moved out of our home on Holland Ave. leaving every thing to my brother to dispose. He called me while we were living in the loft and just about to go broke. I could only ask my brother to salvage the depression ware dishes and photographs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were so many other things I wanted but could not think of.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Any way, she settled on Holland Ave in an apartment on the same block where she lived till she died. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was always cold and told me that God had given her a natural relief from the cold, which was to shiver.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She shivered a lot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;However, she prided herself on being an American and welcomed knowing people of all faiths, colors and creeds. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She had as many Christian, Catholic, and protestant friends as she had colored oriental and other nationalities. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She resented her new sister-in-law's bigotry and was impatient with gossip as a recreational form. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Consequently, her friends and the relatives she would be able to relate were few and far between: amongst them were: Sylvia, Clara, Jean, Bertha, and Pauline. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She had new friends she met at Shore Haven Beach Club: Lola Tangredi who finally married Joe, and Mabel Waingrow, who, with her husband, Dave, owned and operated the “S&amp;amp;W Sweet Shop”, just opposite the Loews “Paradise” movie theater, on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. She went to work for them as a waitress at night. I would often visit her at work to escort her home or just be with her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; It just so happened that this shop was next to Weiss formal wear, where my father worked as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I often, took Mabel’s dogs for a walk: a giant Chow-dog and a Pomeranian. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Of course, I got free hamburgers, egg creams and malteds. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Mabel was big and fat and had a “big mouth”; but was always kind and gentle to my Mom; but not to her husband and to those who crossed her in business.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Mother had little fear of New York’s crime rate. She would work till two or three am in the morning and return home by bus by herself. She absolutely never complained nor was concerned; thank God, in all those years there was never an incident.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When I was eight, she taught me how to dance so that when we went to Shore Haven I could dance with her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She also had clichés she would repeat in English:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;“Every dog has his day” was amongst her favorite.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;“If you can’t say any thing nice don’t say anything at all”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Live and let live”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For both of our Birthdays she bought musical birthday card, which chimed the melody of “Happy Birthday.” The first year we got it we played it so much that somehow one of the notes broke. No matter, she preserved the card and every year at our birthdays; she’d bring it out and go around the house all day long playing it. I can hear the broken note now as I remember her playing her birthday song of love. Of course there would be a cake with candles and presents. I remember when she bought her first pair of slacks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were pleated slate blue and she had a nice taffeta blouse to match.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The early years where my father and mother went out and talked and joked with each other are memorable and peculiar. My mother smoked long cigarettes and when she washed dishes and cooked she often did so with a cigarette dangling from her mouth.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her hands were either wet or holding something.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My father likened her habit and appearance to a famous female comedic movie actress who did this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She took this with affection and in the humorous sense it was given.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was grateful for these times because they were talking and there was peace. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;They were very nice times.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My Mother was the kind of person that always reminded you of all the things she did for her children all the time and at every occasion. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;So, much so that it hard sometimes for to know what it is that I recall from the event or her stories describing the events.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She made our baby food by hand crushing vegetables and fruits as well as hand grinding them in a silvery led grinder she showed me often.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She still used it till she died. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She did not have a clothes washing machine and hand washed and hung our cloths out to dry on the line outside our window in the alley until we moved to Holland Ave. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She never had an electric dishwasher and hand washed all our dishes every day of her life and her hands were always chapped from the dishwater. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She always used Ivory soap which I could never get near because it made my skin crawl; but it sponsored so many of her favorite programs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She read “True Confessions” and ”Redbook” magazines and listened to the “Soaps” and on TV, Liberace and Lawrence Welk. She loved Joan Crawford movies and sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Astor on there Blue velvet chairs. She showed me the restaurants she and her friends visited such as “Tafenetti’s where later “Nathan’s” opened a branch.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In any case, despite what ever else may have happened, my mother was a dedicated and very loyal Mom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had a round metal Dori Sherry box in which she forever kept pedicure instruments and would not let nay one touch or me or use the instruments or open this box. She would cut the nails of my relatives and of course ours. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She loved to take us to Chinese restaurants, buy hot dogs at Nathan’s in Coney Island, go to Carvel for ice cream, drive to a place a Yonkers for hamburgers; She introduced us to Romeo’s of 42 street to have spaghetti and meatballs. Jan’s for ice cream sundaes and Krum’s for ice cream and special cakes. She loved to develop our urban culture and appreciation for the wide and wonderful world that was outside of our apartment and its confines. She was the epitome of faith and fidelity. She was Satan’s worst enemy!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was the personification of integrity. She was not pragmatic. That was all left to my father.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was one of their differences. She was “Teutonic”; and, he was “Mediterranean”. She taught me how to vacuum and clean the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Before I started working, she even paid me a quarter for a complete job. Boy, did I ever learn. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother’s real nemesis was our cat “Stinky” because she called it “Schtonk”, meaning stink, because it sometime did not use its litter box. It was a sight to behold, as she would chase the cat around the living room with her broom to see the cat fly from chair to chair and slide across the floor and under the bed was truly incredible!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; About the cat, finally I made a deal with my mother that I would surrender the cat if she would consent to move from Simpson Street to Holland Ave. I did do this and she did move. My brother was both heartbroken and angry with me for doing this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I believe from that moment on he saw my mother and me in a very different light. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is with pride that I’d announce her as my Mom, and, when I look back on my childhood I only can recall her care and attentiveness.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were good friends and someone who could talk on a variety of subjects. She appreciated being taken out for movies, theater, and eating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can remember taking her to Nathan’s in Coney Island, Jan’s in the Bronx for ice cream, walks up to Boston Post Road for Caravel for soft ice cream, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was great company!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She had a real hard time giving birth to me but it was easy with my brother. Marriage to my father, the depression, and life seemed to frighten her. To the time I turned 12 (1949) I can remember her being very emotional; crying, and nagging at us. One day her emotional rampages stopped and I asked her why.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She said that now I had grown, and such means of discipline was no longer appropriate.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She always had said that the reason she kept up the pressure was because she believed she must, since my father did not. She complained that he neither was with us nor spent the time with his children as he should; and, suspected him on cheating on her; she was right, he was, and he did.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was very upsetting to her!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had no one else to talk to about this except her children, and my brother was too young, so it was me; and, she would pour her heart out with anger and emotion; often, directing her emotion at me. I learned how to carry big emotional loads. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The fact is that my mother’s trust had been betrayed by my father and she suffered anomic shock and a lifetime of anomie stress.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was married and would never change that. This was the way she had her values and standards shaped.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Would she have discarded my father at an early time and remarried this anomie would have disappeared. However, she kept it alive all her life, and with it alive in my father’s life as well. The bible gives infidelity as a cause for divorce and because of sin and sin’s anomic stress it should have been my mother’s course.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My mother had been betrayed!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She manifested and explained her outrage every single day. I knew my mother’s betrayal because it was mine as well as hers, but she expressed it for us all. I just did not realize it until I got older. I loved my mother as her son, big brother and knight in shinning armor. I tried to do what I could.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It took me a lifetime to realize what was needed and how to love her the way it would ease her pain and rebuild her self-esteem. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It seems that later in years my mother and father wanted their privacy and did not want me around.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Paul says in chapter eight of his letter to the Romans 28-313;”we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,&lt;sup&gt; &lt;/sup&gt;who&lt;sup&gt; &lt;/sup&gt;have been called according to his purpose”. I only assumed that it would all work out over time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Everything about my mother was emotional, intuitive and challenging. From her birth pangs, which got me out of her womb as a breach birth to her, beating me into submission and temperance? It was all seemingly chaos, unreasonable and traumatic. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As a young teen I saved my mother’s life in a small lake in the Catskills by the bridge when she waded into a hole and could not hold here self. She could not swim. I immediately put my lifeguard training to work and treated her like any victim. I stilled and turned and held across her chest and neck and side applied her to shore and safety. She of course was out of breath and grateful. Our relationship and her view of me changed somewhat after that event; after all I had saved her life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Any girlfriend I ever had loved my mother. Somehow they became best friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Arlene often visited my mother when I would be at school or work. It seems they would try to unravel me somehow.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;On Simpson Street attending PS 20 one of my teachers recommended our class buy and read Norman Vincent Peal’s “How to win Friends and Influence People”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I bought a copy and brought it home for my mother to read as a gift.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She received it and so far an I can remember did read it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Knowing what I do now about the background of the book I wonder why God put that particular vehicle before us both.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But it seemed to have an effect.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;              &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Peale's message was the power of the mind.... Your unconscious mind... [Has a] power that turns wishes into realities when the wishes are strong enough.' &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Of course, my mother nor I; nor, probably my teacher knew anything about all of this. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;We were the people at the bottom of the barrel who knew very little and had to trust people in authority for their guidance and suggestions, and then say thank you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Much the ways medical providers treat their patients today. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Peale's view of the universe as God as an "energy," and of "prayer" as the scientific technique for releasing God-energy according to definite "laws." All of this is hearsay and blasphemes Gods sovereignty. Besides it is utter nonsense and any one with “sachel” and experience would know that. Or, by then, should have known that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But by the way such books and movements become popular in the market place this is not the case. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My teacher’s reason for recommending the book to the whole class was for its call to vision and to learn the importance of having good relations with our fellow students and neighbors.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Yet, I believe my mother and I considered this as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was also hoping she would try applying this approach in our home with both her husband and us kids. It took a little time but then things started to change for the better. For us it was simply trying to see the glass as half full than half-empty. However, it was from this exercise that I learned how the power of an idea could intercede and affect one’s life. If even we consider and pondered it, it had an impact. It was something I associated with books and ideas and they way they could influence the lives of people who read and considered their teachings. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Her sister, Clara, got involved with Christian Scientist in Brooklyn and she and my mother went to their meetings. My mother believed in God and she read the bible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I do not know if she had accepted Jesus as her Lord and savior. I can only hope she did.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;On the lighter side, my Mom and I became each other’s best friend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’d always banter at each other in the morning when we’d wake up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was great company to do anything, dancing, concerts, shows, drives, snacks, and walks. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She was innately liberal and freewheeled. She was not very demanding on me always guiding me in my decisions thusly:” be a good boy and keep yourself clean”; that was it! I do not regret any thing in my past with my Mom, I know I wanted it all for her, and I believe her deeds and prayers were always for my best. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;u&gt;Bickering&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;From when I was fourteen till twenty one and then later whenever I visited my Mother and I would start our mornings bickering. It would include challenges by each of us to every comment until we kissed and made up. I would encircle my arms around her and hug her real tight. Every one who witnessed us commented on the way we sounded and how awful it all was. My mother and I thought it was quite normal and enjoyed the freedom to speak our mind. “Good morning” might receive a “so what’s so good about it”; “how are you,” “with my hands”;”it’s cold” with “so what can I do about that”. We were argumentative and irate. Actually we were venting and just enjoying carrying on. Anything to get each other to speak. My mother always loved that she and I could speak openly and candidly about anything at any time. We could agree but most of the time she’d question the veracity of anything I’d say or do and I’d always have a comeback which she would simply end in silence and then I’d say:” what?” knowing that she still had something to say and I wanted to hear it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Till today &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Christina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; comments on how Mom and I carried on and when ever I start talking about something in those terms she reminds me that she is not my mother.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My mother and I could sit and talk for hours disagreeing and agreeing about any subject. She was an ardent listener and blessed with wisdom. Her caustic remarks would challenge the best of my intentions and worthiness of undertakings. “So what difference will it make”;”why bother” “will you be any different?” Most of the time she thought that “talk was cheap”, she’d heard a lot of it and was not about to fall for any of my “crap” without a fight. My surviving aunt Molly sometimes will challenge my gestures of courtesy in the same way my Mother did.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Mother’s complaints were about my father’s disloyalty, promiscuity, and general carousing about. To her he was flirtatious and not a “good” person. She therefore saw herself called to be both Mother and Father. I always reckoned that it was her compelling belief to be both that she chose to react to my many childhood wilds to beat me up and give me the discipline that my father should have. I also believe that since I was born over 9 lbs. she had great difficulty bearing that and me she had a Cicerone section and lots of bleeding.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I seem to have transformed her biological setup. It was terrible for her. She had sores on her arms and terrible pain from varicose veins on her legs. She suffered PMS and because of her early years of bad gums she finally had to have all her teeth pulled (a year or two of agony and pain) to then have false teeth. Like me she also, suffered with allergies and stuffed nose constantly using Vick's, Vaseline and Ivory soap. When I hugged her, her bones cracked. We’d always kiss goodnight on the cheek. She shivered when she was cold and she had thin blood so she shivered a lot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was always cold.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She could not swim and one day she was drowning and I saved her. She had a hemorrhage having a mis- carriage and I ran all over the building to get help, and a doctor. I tended her every need and did the shopping and cleaning as she recovered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmuhbst-I/AAAAAAAAA0U/jTJWSl3rhLk/s1600-h/IMG_0387.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmuhbst-I/AAAAAAAAA0U/jTJWSl3rhLk/s200/IMG_0387.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356511387494168546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Mother was very different from my Father: she confronted and challenged; was skeptical, questioning, stubborn and loyal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My Father was generous, friendly, kind and cooperative.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was flexible, cunning and strategic. Both knew how to endure grief, great pain and suffering, and mundane thankless work tasks. To both of them, work was a miserable thing, a curse which we al have to bear. No job could be too miserable or demanding, no boss could be too stupid or wrong. While you were employed you were to be good and do your job.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprpJrF4I/AAAAAAAAA00/N26cV-IPJOs/s1600-h/PS+48+Bronx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprpJrF4I/AAAAAAAAA00/N26cV-IPJOs/s200/PS+48+Bronx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356514636561323906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I recall her hitting me the afternoon I broke my foot  by stopping my self-sledding on the hill next to our house on Faile Street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprGmlRTI/AAAAAAAAA0k/QhC1z781LxQ/s1600-h/IMG_0401.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprGmlRTI/AAAAAAAAA0k/QhC1z781LxQ/s200/IMG_0401.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356514627287336242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She yelled at the man who was one of our neighbor’s who was supposedly supervising and watching out for the safety of the children. She was so upset. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprVyHL3I/AAAAAAAAA0s/0HYWQKENow4/s1600-h/IMG_0402.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYprVyHL3I/AAAAAAAAA0s/0HYWQKENow4/s200/IMG_0402.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356514631362228082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She also hit me the day the boys broke my foot with an iron rod on that same hill.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I put my foot out to stop them from banging on some thing and breaking it, they would not stop.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother was so upset. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In the fifties on Holland Ave she enjoyed watching television on her living room easy chair. Her favorites were Liberace, Lawrence Welk, Ed Sullivan, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She would sit, and watch, and dose -off sleeping.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I would never disturb her. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As a child I bit my nails and did awful things, which anguished my mother. I was very compulsive and driven. She had her hands full.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I remember her letters and cards to me always in her best and beautiful penmanship; always, signed with Love and “xxxxxxxxxx” for her kisses.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother never liked going to museums because they did not have windows; she felt closed in and claustrophobic. And yet, she took us many times to all the museums. I would go with my class and friends when I got older. I discovered that the precious gems exhibited in the Museum of Natural History were public property and as such I had owner ship and rights to them. Therefore, I reasoned why we should own such things when God and the State provide them for us.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Hayden Planetarium&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Museum of Art&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmttiE9jI/AAAAAAAAA0E/zMoBz-Qlnqk/s1600-h/IMG_0374.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SlYmttiE9jI/AAAAAAAAA0E/zMoBz-Qlnqk/s200/IMG_0374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356511373562279474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I believe it was my mother who encouraged me in this attitude toward ownership, possession, and culture. To appreciate beauty and God’s creations without being driven to destroy, covet and disrespect what God created.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; My mother lived the American life. Making unafraid choices and doing simple but interesting things. One of them was a job she took as a waitress in an Ice Cream parlor called “S&amp;amp;W sweet Shop” directly across from the Bronx’s biggest and best movie theater:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; ”The Loews Paradise”. Her friend, Mabel Waingrow, owned the store with her husband Dave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She still managed to put clean sheets of our beds and fresh towels in the bathroom every night. Our cloths were always clean and pressed and the house sparkled. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I was a very rebellious child: I recall telling my mother that the bad behavior she reprimanded me for was her fault. I also, reminded both of them of there duty to support me. They birthed me and now they had to support me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Most of my mother’s dissertations were about the history of the difficulties and hardships she had to birth and raise us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She would repeat the stories and explain the details with a fervor I could not understand. Having heard the stories so many times I found it boring and bragging.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As I look back I think of these many retelling as her pride and love of the work god had given to her to do and her desire to share her accomplishments with the world; who ever would listen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since her world consisted of few of us the story got retold only to us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She really did not want this part of history and what she had done to be lost and trivialized.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The details of her story were heroic and difficult.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought at the time: ”well you asked for it, why you are complaining”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I look back at that time and my attitude as my low point in love and being a human being. I was a jerk! I needed to be much more loving and caring and listen with sympathy and gratitude that I did then.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later I would ask her to retell and explain things to me again and again. I could not get enough.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;No, she was not complaining but proclaiming the virtues and zeal she had in doing this very difficult work. When I finally grew up, and I could clear the cobwebs out of my head I really learned to cherish and appreciate her stories and great accomplishments.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could not thank her enough and did as much fro her as I could which included desiring to spend time with her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I learned to convert dependency and taking her duties of house work for granted to wanting to celebrate our love and friendship by taking her out to theater, movies, dinner, lunch, and later for her to live with us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She refused to live with us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was difficult to get her to visit. I especially wanted her to enjoy our Jackson, Reston, Houston and college station homes. She would not. She preferred to spend this time and commitment with Saul and Fran. That transformed and dulled our relationship. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;What did she do?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My birth was cesarean and I came out headfirst.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I was constantly sick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She prepared the baby food by hand using fresh vegetables and fruits which she bought raw and carried home in shopping bags from the store and prepared them by hand mixers not electric.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She heated and tested them to make sure they were good and at the right temperatures.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She fed them to us with songs, colloquies and rhymes she made up and did with laughter and love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She worried that we ate and nourished and lived &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She was pound and measured our growth. She bought us presents and rewarded us for eating, and behaving.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She sang songs and read to us songs and stories that today I don’t remember. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;            &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Her voice was so deep and had so much verve and accent of Brooklyn and the Bronx. It was a joy to hear when she spoke nicely.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could not get enough. She often complained that I demanded too much by asking and her too much because I wanted to hear her talk. In fact I was passionately in love with my mother, and I preferred her to any friend, lover and relative on the planet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She just wanted her space and opportunity to escape the doldrums of perpetual mother hood all the time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Later I did what I could.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I even tried to introduce her to Gerald Popiel; and encourage her to go out on her own to dress and be attractive.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She really knew how to dress and look great. My mother was a beautiful woman with handsome and stately features. She was stately, royal and engaging.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not an immature flirts and sex kitten but the kind of woman a man with a brain and intellect could enjoy and converse.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her interests and ability to understand ideas and listen was incredible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She enjoyed reading and talking about what she saw on television, heard on the radio or read in the newspapers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had a much greeter vocabulary than my father and did what she could to encourage me to have my “own mind”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love to watch her eat, sleep and watch television.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She would often chastise me in humor and friendly expression for staring at her; “gowan, what are you staring at” she’d say. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My mother’s biggest complaint about my father is that he did not teach me to defend myself against neighborhood bullies and gangs to fight back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I learned to take beatings, talk, rationalize, and some times plead to avoid trouble and continued harassment and terror.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Culturally my mother was the most American melting pot adherent I have ever known. Audacious and defiant against being pigeon holed and labeled. Having innate disdain for public life and public figures she labeled all politicians as “liars” inherently doomed to lie before elections and cheat after elected by not fulfilling any thing they said. She would never picket or make a public out cry, but privately her comments and criticisms were sharp, critical, reasoned and to the point. She was very diplomatic to never engage in political or religious talks knowing that these talks would result in the strife and misery the rest of the world was already embroiled. I loved her mind and its point of view. It was innately reserved and conservative, skeptical and untrusting. Her mental and emotional stamina was powerful tools against Satan and the world of demons he controlled. She often pointed them out to me and taught me to know how to say:”No” and recognize deception and dishonesty. She would react very quickly and sharply against such words and people. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She always answer to any question about her background that I’m an American, period, fullstop, end of sentence; objecting to questions about her religion, national origin, neighborhood, past and privacy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She guarded her right to privacy and her pursuit of what ever she called happiness. She did not buy into any one else’s definition of happiness for her. Live and let live was her anthem. An addige she often pointed out applied to her as well as others; it worked two ways. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;according to Bertrand Russell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if an anarchist follows an·ar·chism and anarchism is the theory or doctrine that all forms of government are oppressive and undesirable and should be abolished along with a Rejection of all forms of coercive control and authority:&lt;/span&gt; then according to Bertrand Russell my mother was a type of anarchist “who hated system and organization and uniformity”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; She was the ultimate sovereign.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;An anarchist ready to make the ultimate sacrifice and did. She went down to the end on her own terms, never flinching. My father and others complained of her “stubbornness”. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbwqcyT2TtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/lQ48TtlfWMM/s1600-h/B.P.+Museum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ost0PLbT4_U/SbwqcyT2TtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/lQ48TtlfWMM/s320/B.P.+Museum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313168334420070098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;After my Mom, most other women were timid, tepid and bland. She was &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; precocious, manifesting or characterized by unusually early development or maturity, especially in mental aptitude as one developed more than is natural or usual at a given age; exceeding what is to be expected of one's years; too forward; -- used especially of mental forwardness; as, a precocious child and precocious talents. My Uncle Irving often alluded to my Mom’s special nature and character.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All who knew her recognized her as a specially gifted person.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Mother’s legacy to me is:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Discipline, obey and love(not as the world)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Live with means&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Keep clean&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;If you can’t say some thing nice don’t say anything at all.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dress well&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Be a private person&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Being good is better than being rich&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Politicians are all liars.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I do not believe my mother ever voted.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In retrospect I believe my mother cast my schooling, diplomas and licenses as a charade of me being something I am not. More than pretentious. A person becoming something for all the wrong reasons. Going into things, which are not our business, and of no value. But, I do believe she realized that I was doing all of this because I did not have the love and care of my father.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That I was trying to construct the shell of a home and family deprived me by my father. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In retrospect I believe that my mother was suffering anomic stress due to the relocation away from Brooklyn and her normal environment, coupled with the anomie inflicted upon her by my father’s infidelity. The combination of the two along with the disorientation and neglect accompanying this situation along with the burdens of the depression, war and poverty. Saul and I knew when all of this was happening that my mother was a very good and loving person. We knew she had a sense of humor and we knew she loved us; we never doubted that she loved us and that she was there for us every second of every day in every way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She was very mature and wise! She had an overview of our strata in the world order and I believe knew that without a strong father and husband I could not really succeed. Eventually she resigned herself and when I met Gerald Popiel she told me that he was like the father I did not have. On the other hand I believe she viewed where he was leading me was a kind of fantasy land but it was at least something and I probably would find my way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It could have been much more still a strong father.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So when I graduated Pratt and then Yale she really did not think much of either because of this view.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;After all, she was my mother and she knew me and the world very well. I just did not know what else to do and neither did she. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I believe she asked:”What could come of it all”? Mother, you were right! On the other hand, she was not against education; I don’t think she understood my potential not the potential of any one. She was not into potentials but things as they are. We were poor and of the labor class.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt; We were not owners but laborers. My father became an owner and she did not understand this because of his infidelity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She would have needed his guidance and together they would have been a good couple.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My father walked away for his wedding vows and God’s covenant. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Now, as then my mother is my hero. She set very high standards and taught me to choose to abstain, discern and discriminate; to keep my self-clean and choose the best. To choose God and His ways over man’s.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To listen to God and not man. To cross the street from evil and navigate through a dangerous and silly people. It is because of what she did and the example she set that I choose my goals and achieve not the world’s but God’s goals. She showed me the way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She did this humbly and well. The many other things that she said and did wax pale in comparison to this monumental and Godly value she delivered into my life. It is the difference and significance of my life and its value. God gave her answer to her prayers; the prayer of Hanna as her name was Anne. She never liked when I pronounced the “e” in her name.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was just Ann. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She did not pray for God to give her a child but that the child He gave her would be fathered and nurtured. So God gave her this virtue and she did what she had prayed. Thank God!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother was the kind of person that always reminded you of all the things she did for her children all the time and at every occasion. So, much so that it hard sometimes for to know what it is that I recall from the event or her stories of the events.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In any case, despite what ever else may have happened my mother was a dedicated and loyal Mom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is with pride that I’d announce her as my Mom and when I look back on my childhood I only can recall her care and attentiveness.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were good friends and someone who could talk on a variety of subjects.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She appreciated being taken out for movies, theater, and eating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can remember taking her to Nathans in Coney Island, Jans for ice cream, walks up to Carvel for soft ice cream, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was great company!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had a real hard time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He giving birth to me but it was easy with my brother. Marriage to my father, the depression, and life seemed to frighten her. To the time I turned 12 (1949) I can remember her being very emotional; crying, and nagging at us. One day she stopped and I asked her why.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She said that now I had grown and such means of discipline was no longer appropriate.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She always had said that the reason she kept up the pressure was because she believed she must, since my father did not. She complained that he was never with us nor spent the time with his children as he should and suspected him on cheating on her; she was right, he was, and he did.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was very upsetting to her!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She had no one else to talk to about this except her children, and my brother was too young, so it was me, and she would pour her heart out with anger, and emotion often directing her emotion at me. Things mattered to her. Her life mattered. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother was a brilliant logistician, politician, and child psychologist by making me responsible for my brother from the time he was born. She knew that I was hurt by having to surrender my space and share her affection, attention, and things with him. So, she made me the one who needed to do this because Saul was under my care. I would have a share in parenting Saul .I took on this job with love and nobility. It taught me and built my character. It made me mind and heart soar but it was also very painful as he grew and as I developed other interest and so did he. Eventually I was to be shunned and ignored and made irrelevant by his relationship with Francine. My mother through all of this I am sure was sympathetic and confided in me about all her feelings and misgivings. She was always very candid with me and told me that while Saul was very kind and good it was I that she could talk to and share ideas and her heart. She could not do this with either my father or my brother. She could do this with me. I loved her so and welcomed this further responsibility.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Mother and Christina have a very important thing in common and that is that they practice anarchy. They also have influenced me to be an anarchist and for that I my life has been more interesting. My mother would keep secrets and deny any one the benefit of intruding in her private life. Both were &lt;u&gt;not &lt;/u&gt;politically active but would deny government the right to interfere in their life. They both rejected all forms of coercive control, especially Christina in her valiant departure from the East Zone. They both thrived on individuality objected to cohesive principles seeing the peculiar, distinctive and exceptional in many things that would warrant individuality and separation. Indeed they would not be ruled. &lt;i style=""&gt;The Latin for anarchy means without a ruler.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt; Another of my mother’s favorite things was when my brother and I would come together and not fight. We did this as often as we could know it made her happy. Somehow all this stopped.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was tragic and unworthy ending to all her hard and painful efforts.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It hurt me very much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was blessed with being able to live with my mother and enjoy her great company until I was 21 in 1951 and started Pratt.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I would visit her often during our marriage and then live with her again. I tried as best I could to have her stay with me when I had my own apartment at Pratt, then in Manhattan. She was always resistive but once there she and I had a great time. My mother was a great companion, always fun and enjoyed the same things I did; after all she taught me most of them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She loved drives to Coney Island, Adventurers, and any place I wanted to go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was a good company keeper.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We’d hold hands and talk about what we saw and enjoyed discussions of any kind. We’d begin the mornings by intense bickering and then hug and afterwards really enjoy each other’s honesty and uncovering our feelings and perceptions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was always feeling I had to replace my father and be better than a husband to her is.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was my best friend and I was hers. There was nothing we could not discuss, including her hurt by my father. She hated when I visited him and knew I was less than candid to save her feelings; she understood I must see him but knew I too was hurting about the whole mess. We comforted and encouraged one another. She loved my friends with exceptions. We would talk about each of them and she would tell me her opinions about them. She had the greatest sense of humor, not the one with jokes, but a wit and sarcasm.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She’d smile often at my comments and listen intently when I spoke. I did fall in love with Christina.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But I was living at home with my mother at the time and I was very happy with her. She’d always have my meals ready when I came home or we’d go out to eat. I loved taking her out because I knew she would never do that for herself. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother really did not like to speak very much except to go on and on about every detail and moment of birthing and raising the both of us. If ever my mother had a “story” it was about her role as our mother and her sacrifices. She had nothing much more to give than what she had given and at that it was all she had. She gave it and then did not want it forgotten. She could not forget and because it was so precious did not want us or anyone else to not know about what she had experienced. It was told with as much alarm, realism, and passion as a hero after a war telling his was story. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Mother was very thrifty and saved her every penny and bought US war and then savings bonds. She never used a penny of the yield of any of the bonds. She instead gave them to Saul and Fran and some to me to help with our expenses. I do not recall receiving any the money. I know that Saul got the bulk of the money. She did not travel, dine out, or have any extravagances. I do not believe she even had what she needed for medical insurance coverage. It is tragic and sad. As a careless child I would retort to her complaints about my irresponsibility and me that since she and my father birthed me they had the responsibility to care and help me. I was their responsibility and not vice versa. I often felt she was trying to make me responsible for the deeds of my father or the own inability’s as a person. To her telling and retelling of what she had done for us as children I reminded her that that is what mothers and fathers should do and was not the subject of excessive pride and bragging. I regret having said these things to her. However, it was the nature of our relationship to confront, challenge, and go in each other’s face about areas we disagreed. This was one of them. We always kissed and made up. I never left her angry or slept with a good night kiss. She dedicated herself to always telling me she loved me and made sure that Arlene, Dorothy and Christina knew my need for love as she saw it. Her letters were abundant, began, and ended with her assurance of her love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My mother taught me to listen to the suffering of women and appreciate there experience. I learned form her as she suffered and expressed herself I learned to understand and listen to her words and feel her pain. I was later able to listen to the pain and suffering of others. She also listened to me and the older we both became the more we listened and longed to listen to each other. She became my best friend.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Chapter 5 Bronx Father: ( 7,703 words) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;              &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;My father was Henry Joseph  and k&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;nown as Joe ; but, they called him:” Joey”.&lt;u&gt; &lt;/u&gt;And, I was known as “Joe’s son” My father always referred to me as “Son”, not Barie.&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt; Whatever little I know about my Father (before I met him) is from bits and pieces of his own stories about himself and what ever I could surmise from others.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I have had now written information about either my Mother or Father.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He was raised in Harlem, New York living on 101 Street and Lenox Ave. My father was raised in the midst of tremendous revolution of the peoples of Harlem called the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harlem Renaissance&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I assume he was born about in 1916 (and therefore about 21 when I was born) when there were a lot of poor people living in Harlem then, most of them working people. Because my father greatly affected by this period in his life it is worth examining and comparing it with his resulting personality and life style.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;At the time my father lived in Harlem most black men worked in service jobs -- cooks, waiters, janitors, bootblacks. My grandfather became a bootblack.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Harlem already had the largest black population of any city in the country, but there weren’t a single black bus driver, subway worker, street sweeper or garbage collector; a black teacher; they were all white. You did see a few black policemen and firemen, but they were so uncommon that everybody knew who they were. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Most black women worked as domestics -- not only in New York, but also all over the United States. Most of the time the women were more educated than the men. I think it's because the girls stayed at home longer, and listened to their mothers better. Boys often dropped out of school as low as the 4th or 5th grade and some didn't go at all. My father may have been one of those but he was never clear weather he completed school. He just would not say. His two sister, Regina and Pauline were pretty smart ladies. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Harlem then had a lot of poor Italian immigrants, who were still arriving in large numbers, along with  others from Eastern Europe, and a smattering of people from the Caribbean islands. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As these groups came in, the middle-class whites started getting out. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Blacks lived primarily on the West Side of Harlem, between Lenox Avenue and 7th Avenue, and the Italians dominated the East Side of 5th Avenue, in East Harlem. Up above us, on Morningside Heights, was a large concentration of Irish. This gave my father a comfort zone with most any nationality. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I think most blacks realized they were segregated, because they were confined to living in that area. Not by any law, but because most property owners outside of that area would not rent or sell to them. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;For self-protection, you had to be a member of boys' gang in the block where you lived. It might be just for the kids on your side of the street, and right across the street might be a different gang. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;When you came out of the house, you generally stayed with your fellow gang members. As I experienced the gangs on Simpson Street my father best advice was either to join or avoid them. We choose avoidance. I was never sure what choice my father had made a kid. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There were two rivers where you could swim in the summertime, the Harlem River on the east and the Hudson River on the west. The Harlem River was the better place, but between the swimming hole and us were the Italians. It is why when we lived in Hunts Point and swam in the east river that it was perfectly acceptable.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It is easy to see why my mother may have been attracted to some one from such a place as Harlem. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;And, in 1936 when he was 20 he met and married my mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if supportFields]&gt;&lt;span style="';font-size:12.0pt';"&gt;&lt;span style="'mso-element:field-begin'"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;PRIVATE &amp;quot;TYPE=PICT;ALT=Countee Cullen&amp;quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if supportFields]&gt;&lt;span style="';font-size:12.0pt';"&gt;&lt;span style="'mso-element:field-end'"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father’s love of black music and musicians rubbed off on me during the first ten years of my life. He loved the Ink Spots, jazz pianists such as Earl Hines and others. The first records he bought me was black jazz and the music we listened to on the radio was such greats as Bessy Smith, King Cole Trio, Ink Spots, etc. very little high brow; just great black street corner bopping. Dad dressed and acted the part, it was his style. He had a lot of style. He had the looks and the style. He had style, style that is embedded in slang and gestures with innuendo and accepted sounds, jibe, and colloquies found on the streets of Harlem and the Bronx. He was romantic and could smile and wink his eyes to assure you of his good looks and masculinity. He could dance but not ballroom dancing, just slow dancing and with lots of movements and expressiveness. If you hear the words of Fats Walla and Bessy smith music you can hear the expressions and jibe talk of my father.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Swing talk is a loose, vivid, living language. It does not and cannot stand still; it partakes of the dynamics of our time. New words are forever entering the fold, old words departing or changing. Thrown up out of this flux are the following meanings of the moment. Take them for what they are: words, twisting and turning, seeking to find fresh, unique modes of expression that will embody the nuance and spirit of a modern, tradition-smashing music. The below is a mere smattering of some of Dad’s vocabulary. He used these words in jest and knowing they were slang. Dad was a fine man and this vocabulary really did not suit him. He was not as brassy and forward as this vocabulary would imply. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Additionally Dad borrowed some words from his parents such as “loco”; crazy man crazy; venga, etc. These were Ladino words which he told us were “kind of” Spanish. So we said siente se, venga, etc. We knew there were other words but these were merely spoken as token symbols of our identity and culture which he was not very sure he wanted to present. He spoke the bop idioms with much more confidence and believability. These were more of him and who he believed he was. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He knew Sammy Davis Jr. and had ten brothers and sisters. He was raised by his immigrant parents  during the great depression and was able to attend public school. He learned to read, write, and do arithmetic. He could drive and at a young age got odd jobs. The job he had at the time he met and married my mother was an as a cook in a dinner. It says so on my birth certificate. Being as how I was born in the Brooklyn Hospital and that my mother’s family lived on Steuben Street and that my Aunt Molly says that when she and Leo met the family clan they  were living in Brooklyn, I assume this work place was in Brooklyn and that they lived near the work place. It was not something they ever talked very much about so I assume it was very transitory in nature. It also indicated on the Birth Certificate that Dad’s family in some way owned the Dinner. Christina recalls that they owned and operated a small store front breakfast greasy spoon. In any case it was short lived. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dad who made the breakfast in the morning and showed me how to flip flap jacks and sunny side over light eggs; how to cook bacon and make great grilled cheese sandwiches; how to make sandwiches and how to cook on a grille and use very hot pans and not to wash the pans but dry wipe them for use the next time. He knew his way around in the kitchen, so for sure this was one of his jobs and probably just before they were married. I can only surmise they lived in Brooklyn for that short interval and then they all moved to the Bronx. Harriet also recalls the early days on Hoe Ave.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Dad had two older sisters, Regina (who married a Cuban) and Pauline (who married a Turk); and eight brothers of which he was the oldest of the youngest four; five sons being older. Both his sisters were older than he was. He was six feet and two inches and enjoyed dancing and meeting people. He liked to talk and have fun with his brothers and sisters. He always said that he wanted me to have all the things he wasn’t able to have. He learned to be a dedicated father and realized at a very young age that he did not have the opportunity for either education or business.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My earliest recollections of him are as a passenger in his car with him driving and us talking. He took me every where he went: to work at Weiss delivering tuxedos, laundry, and then when he started driving people to the mountains, to the Jersey Shore and to and from there houses in a project off of Jerome Ave. I was there. He was always kind and loving. I recall one of his very first cars being a big black Oldsmobile with a running board.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When he first came home from the army he’d take me visiting to a man he served with in the Army. This man and his family lived in Bayonne, New Jersey in an old wooden house in the middle of a cemetery. To get there we’d travel through the Bronx, down the East River drive to the port and drive the car onto the Staten Island Ferry.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;After a great adventure crossing the east river and seeing the statue of liberty, Ellis island etc. we’d drive our car off the ship and onto an extraordinary parkway which was burrowed below the street level in a four lane highway, Al the street crossed over it so for a good deal of the ride the car was bellow some overpass.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I remember this because the radio would stop playing or make a lot of static. It was on these rides my dad would teach me what ever he knew about radio waves. I remember the road also had a many lights warning of lane closing and redirecting traffic. It was quite an adventure. We’d go through Staten Island, and over the gigantic bowed Bayonne Bridge and then drive a really long time into the most rural area and to the cemetery and his friend'’ house. I cannot recall what we did there but I do know that sometime we’d return late at night. We often made this trip and I enjoyed it very much. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When I was just fourteen he made sure I got my learners permit and in my Uncle franks wood paneled station wagon showed me how to drive a standard transmission. First we drove this very heavy and cumbersome vehicle in some streets than up a ramp leading onto the Interborough parkway (which at the time did not have concrete dividing each direction. I begged him to let me stop or get off but he kept encouraging me and we made it home. I was exhausted. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;              &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Both my mother and father enjoyed introducing me and opening my eyes to the excitement and nuances of life. They both recognized that it through them that I would see and understand what’s out there. It was what they both knew and could do, so they did that. This was the fun part of parenting. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;For my father it came much easier than for my mother, my father had the car, was mobile and affluent. He took us to Italian restaurants of all sizes and neighborhoods, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Dominick’s and three brother’s steak house, which spoiled my taste forever; because it was the best!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He took us to White Castle, Dairy restaurant, “Big Apple” on the highway to Adorondex. He took us to Howard Johnson’s restaurants of ice cream (28 flavors), etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;So my father was, he taught me how to drive and behave with people by his own example.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He never said something twice, if he even said something once we were grateful.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He listened and would answer simply. His vocabulary was limited and he’d get very emotional because he often could not find the words to properly express his heart. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I too learned to listen to him after asking him something he would pour himself out. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He loved to talk about directions to destinations, repainting the car, the condition of the family and each member; He was never judgmental about anyone! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He was always grateful for anything he had, was given or earned. He was honest and truthful about his business but not about his personal life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He never owned a car that was not a used for work. Even his apartment was his office used to receive phone calls and do his book keeping. Our apartment on Simpson and then Holland was such a place until he opened an apartment for them on knolls crescent in Riverdale where they first started there car service. Lea and there apartment was even such a place. Even his apartment was bought for there use by my Cousin Murray. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He was leading a double life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He wasn’t one for lecturing or explaining. The only things he knew to explain were directions of travel through the city. He had every street’s name and direction memorized. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He could map out a trip and sequence of picks ups and deliveries in his sleep. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He knew little of anomie nor suffered the stress of change and removal of standards and values. He was too busy surviving and conquering He was making his way and it was rough but he was persistent and motivated to win.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He took me personally to join the cub, and then the boy scouts. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He arranged for me to spend a summer period as a camp counselor in “Camp Cricklewood” where he had a contract to supply cars and drivers to transport the children and there parents. He arranged for me to go to camp for three weeks with the boy scouts. He got me tutors to help me in subjects I could not pass. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He would talk to my mother and his brothers about routes between one and other place. He had the streets of the Bronx and Manhattan with their one way streets committed to memory. Motorola installed two ways radio’s in all his vehicles and he’d guide his drivers and me when they were lost. He knew the detours and how to get around them. He could time trips between points with military accuracy. His alternative subject of conversation was about cars and how tot repair there various parts. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I vowed when I matured to never have such old cars that I’d have to worry so about maintaining them. Not just because of the difficulties my Dad endured but because it preoccupied our life, time and thought. It seemed he did not have much left over, and yet as I look back this was far from the truth.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It just as much as I would have liked. I think most boys have that feeling. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It seemed Dad would go to the filling station only if we were all in the car, dressed and anticipating actually going to some really nice destination. Instead, and, predictably amongst the first of several errands he’d perform was filling the car with gas. The early days during the was included rationing including a system of coupons and the availability of those coupons. So it could be a long ways to the station and once there and unknown allowable we quantity. There were the times we’d have to change our plans to go to another borough because of the shortage. Getting the coupons was yet another one of his chores and it was often black market since we could not yet afford full price.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Gas in those days was filled by attendants whose personality and invasive familiarity paralleled that of good bartender. My Dad seemed to know them all by first name or even there nick names such as Sonny, Junior, Bull, Moose, Jocko, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Our car seemed to have no barrier between the tank and the car so as the tanks capacity was reached the smell became overwhelming and despite the seasonal cold weather temperature we’d keep the windows open until we got accustomed to the toxic odor and /or it subsided with the normal carbon dioxide already filling the urban air. Eating and driving under such conditions was obviously not very popular but smoking was. I was always afraid that one day my father or mother would blow up the car when lighting their cigarettes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Dad was not the parent my mother thought he should be, but he for sure was my father and did parent me, in his way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He liked popular music and always had music playing on his car radio.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He had played with Sammy Davis Jr. in the streets of Harlem and so when ever Sammy was on we listened. He banked with Manufacturer’s Trust on Westchester near Classon Ave. It was one of the errands he would take me. I remember sitting in the car under the elevated train structure being diagonally parked facing the building waiting for him. Or, some times he took me in and I met the banker’s etc. I remembered with pride when the famous fifth avenue branch with its vault in the window opened and I could tell every one that my father banked at Manufacturer’s. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;His favorite topics of conversation were about his brothers and sisters and there children. He kept very careful track of each of them; His very last conversation with me was about them. Routinely he would talk to &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He consoled me from my mother’s discipline assuring me that I was a good and smart boy. He was always proud of me and people always said that he and I looked and behaved alike. He was always amazed about how much of every detail about every thing I remembered and was able to describe and recount to him. I’d ask him as a we passed by one or another shop, filling station, garage and intersection if he ever sees such and such or goes to such and such. He had long since forgotten or moved on while I had stored the event and person in my memory. I believe it was his impression of my ability to recall why he tried to find ways to help me get a good education. He did not understand at all what was involved and went to his brothers and sisters, etc for there advice, intercession and assistance. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Unfortunately, at any early age of about 23 or so he hurt his back lifting heavy trunks on one of his deliveries and from then on had serious back pain. He would walk around for week’s bent over. He was constantly under the care of chiropractors from which I learned to give him massages. His third from the bottom disc had been ruptured.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I was so honored when Livingston Bryant of Manhattan’s borough President’s office requested I do a community action plans for the very neighborhood where my father grew up. I met with the children, but because I was not black and had an education they would not listen to the fact that my father came from the very streets they were playing on. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;              &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Later on he finally had no choice but to have an operation on his back. The operation was a success but the Veteran’s Hospital had given him blood with a hepatitis infection.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Because he could not exercise properly his condition only got worse. He had another operation to fuse the spine, which was then successful, and then he had an enormous amount of pain.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;A doctor finally came up with a gadget implanted in him who he could start to distract and ease the pain.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It worked for a while until he got sick again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I got a call when we were in Tennessee that he was dying and loosing body fills of blood.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It was his last body full. I got on the plane and ordered the mayor’s office to give the last body full of blood.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The surgeons asked I what to do.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I visited my father and asked him where’d it hurt. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He said here pointing to his stomach. I ordered the chief surgeon to cut him open and fix what was hurting. It turned out that he had a stomach ulcer; they did not at all look there because they were looking at his back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Dad lived for another 15 years and died from a bust angina on heart artery. In the waiting room of that operation was my Uncle Dave, Cousins Murray and Dorothy. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Throughout his life Dad slept a lot. He kept odd hours.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He lived on and off with my mother until my brother finished High School. He started living with Lea, Jackie and Patricia and their dog “Gina” when I was very young. I was always put between my mother and father. I loved them both. My father, Lea and I were good friends. I would visit them on Christmas and wrote to him when I was in Europe.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I brought the ladies in my life to visit them. Lea gave her very beautiful dresses to Barbara Allen; and, they were both very nice to Christina.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As a child Dad took me to the Drake cemetery on weekends to play ball and clean the car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Every Tuesday we’d take Grandma to the doctor on Moshulu Parkways; and, then have a great steak at the steak house in the Bronx; or veal Milanese with ziti at a great Italian restaurant, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Once per month we’d go in the evenings to some place and afterward go to the Luxor Steam Baths. That was really great. Dad would stop off on west 167 street where he bought Spinach Pancakes. Grandma loved these.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She used to make them. I did not taste anything similar until I reached College Station and The Lebanese club; and, then the Lebanese bakery in AlKhobar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Because grandma lived with various relatives we visited them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;We went by car to Ohio twice, once for my older cousin Margaret’s wedding. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;She was Sam’s daughter and my cousin by marriage. We visited severl time to Miami staying at such hotels as the Lido and others on Ocean Blvd below 15 street.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The last time I visited Dad I slept on the sofa in his living room when I came from Saudi. He hugged me and made some gesture of game and play. He was trying to keep his love for me alive.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At the same visit in jest when we encountered each other in the hallway with a physical challenge. Standing in his hall way facing each other he raised his both arms and hands as if to gruffly grab and startle me. It seemed rude and confrontational and totally out of character. In retrospect it was Dad’s way of experiencing a relationship with his big son in the only way he knew how. It was instinctive, personal, and visible. It said:”I am your father and you are my son”. It was a very family thing to do! It was familiar and peculiar to my father. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He confessed his love for Jesus and prayed always to Jesus. A black sister last attended him to from a church in Brooklyn. He had phone buddies with whom he conversed and prayed daily. Marianne, Jackie's divorced wife, a German schoolteacher from Frankfurt, loved and cared for him to the end; she encouraged me to forgive my father. My cousin Murray paid for any medical and finical needs. They always were close ever since Dad had introduced Dorothy to Murray when she worked as a salesgirl/model at Weiss. She was a most attractive lady. She loved children and the last time I saw her encouraged me to have children of my own.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Dad always had money. He was the envy of his family and friends. He employed my Uncle Frank and others as drivers. He started his own business: “Veteran’s Limousine Rental Service”: he was amongst the first in New York City to have CB radio in the car. Motorola installed an Antenna at no charge for my father and put in his car all the equipment. His service had the first transportation contract to the United Nations building when it was first built and opened in 1949. He transported all the diplomats for many years. He had the exclusive contract to transport the children of Riverdale’s “Fieldstone” school and operated the Riverdale car service with Lea Sikorski from the basement office in which they lived in Riverdale.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He and Lea practiced anger management and learned to listen to complaints made daily by there customers and parents of the children they transported to Fieldstone .The cars were usually late and sometimes missed pickups. Drivers would get lost and students could not locate vehicles. It was always something and they worked well together to deal with anger. He talked slow and listened. He was loved by his customers and known for his patience and kindness. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Amongst my father’s employee’s I was recognized as Joe’s son. I was cut tot the core visiting my Dad’s home with Lea and her children and seeing him with them knowing that this god made trust between us had been severed by this arrangement. It was something, which gnawed away and made me resent Jackie and Patricia; eventually I learned to get over it and accept things as they were. In a few years when they got married I visited them and brought them Christmas presents; I know that they were insincere and somehow jeered and scoffed at me for my behavior, beliefs, and vocabulary. Today I look back at them and realize that they were the white trash characters of fiction novels and movies. They were all on hard drugs, eventually divorced and even Jackie committed suicide. Of all of them I somehow had a soft spot for my step sister Patricia who I saw as a tragic heroine of disastrous circumstances; and for Marianne who had met Jackie in Hamburg and tried to better herself and the lot of her children. Marianne eventually got her teaching license and had an engineer for a boyfriend who worked as a building inspector. She would visit and care for Dad, encouraging me to forgive and give my father a break.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Lea asked me one day when we were guests of Ben Berger in New Rochelle “where did we go wrong”: why do they, the Berger's, have all this and we have nothing”? Her question was so tragic because she did not know; and, she was so pathetic because she indeed was a victim of sin that was way over both of their head to realize. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Yes, I forgave my father long before any one, or he, even asked. He was my father. He wanted the best for me. He bailed me out, got me out, and encouraged me; and, it was he whose whistle I longed to hear when I lay in bed at night. I prayed a thousand nights that God would protect him as he drove through those mountains, marched in the boot camp, was operated on, and lived with an emergency beeper to beep the moment his angina would burst. Oh yes, I forgave him, Jesus forgave him; and I look forward to see him and my Mother in Heaven as a happy family. Better than we were. Renewed and without the burden of our sins and our flesh.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As Mom, Dad died when I was in Saudi Arabia. No one knows, except the one who lives through what we experienced. My cousins, friends and acquaintances did not understand that it would be God who would deliver and not us. God did!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I remember suffering from Nietzsche's famous rebellion of one’s creator: “The dialectical process”. For me it manifested in order to become a sovereign identity; Finding distasteful the nature and language used by my father and his associates, I mentioned this to him once, very casually, and, he ordered his men to watch their language around his son. They did!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I do believe that it was more than Nietche, sin and language; it was God preparing both my Father and I for His greatest gift of Salvation. And, to use me as he had used his parents in Rhodes, to be a witness amongst the Arabs. I never knew if my Mother could relate what I was doing to her parent’s past or her husband’s parents past.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He joked with the English language mis- pronunciation of words, such as oil as “earl” and he had a lovely laugh.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Every one called me “little Joe”. I was so proud to be addressed thusly and stood tall when so addressed. “Tall, dark and handsome” my mother would say about me in comparison to my brother and about my father. She referred to him as the strong silent type and “still waters run deep”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father was reticent.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father’s parenting could be summed up in his deeds:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Taught me to drive.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Take me with him to work to pick up and deliver tuxedos;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;chauffeur people to the mountains, seashore, weddings, and special occasions.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Visit his and my mother’s family frequently.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Take my Grandma to the doctor every week&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Every Tuesday night we’d eat out at Dominick’s stake house, neighborhood Italian, Mama Leone’s, Special Italian for vela Milanese, ziti, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Buy spinach pancakes&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Pay for my visits to Alvin Goldfine for psychiatric analysis for four years at $10/visit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Paid for my engagement party and wedding &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He gave me an allowance.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;        &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Provided us with membership to Shore Haven beach club in the summers for many years&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Taught me to “count my blessings”; don’t always see all the bad things, and when things are bad; see what many good things God has done.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Took my brother and I on trips to Florida and Ohio.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Provided me with car for dates and to see Arlene, work, and go to school. When car broke down in blizzard in Union City, New Jersey he came and picked us up. When car brook down on clover leaf on highway because I drove it off the road he came with rope, tied up broken axle and pulled the car home.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Comforted me when I was sad and feeling really down&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He always spoke nicely, softly or not at all.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Whistled when he came home so I knew it was he.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Loved me and kept my picture with him&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He was proud of my accomplishments and me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He called me son&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Made a record when he was in the army and sent it to us to play over and over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It was because of all the above that I was shattered when it finally sank in, that Jackie and Patricia were living with him and Lea. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; It was a hurt and damage, which was insidious and depressing. It dominated my heart and mind for several years.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;                &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was hurt over and over again. I tried to win him back but he would not leave them. It was a secret I had. It manifests dramatically when I was in Milan with VanClyburn and his father. I envied van because he had his father and I didn’t. I wrote my father about this and invited him to do things together, etc. He would not and soon these passions and emotional ties, tensions, and strivings subsided. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I became accustomed to the dualism, hypocrisy and living destruction of our love and family I was to endure. I did see Lea and my Dad a great deal. I’d go to them on Christmas, etc. Lea was very nice but I did keep a distance from Jackie and Patricia. I recall one of the last times I visited them in this context; they made fun between them at my way of speaking and attitudes which by now had grown different from theirs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When I think back on ethnic roots and my father I can only combine an unlikely mixture of black spirituals and jazz with Greek type culture and from my mother a heavy dose of American swing, Lindy and hop. It’s really fascinating!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My father laughed a great deal.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Dad bought us suits on Kingsbridge Road, just off of Fordham Road. I believe the name of the store was Bonds; the same store that advertises and has a billboard on Times Square in Manhattan. It came with two pair of pants. I was so proud and happy at the cut and smell of the fabric. I remember him saying that this was a very important occasion and that there would many others like this. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have no idea of the work my father did before he met and married my mother. I know he lived at home with his parents and his family in Harlem and before that in Brooklyn. I do not know why that after they married did they decide to make their home in the Bronx rather than Brooklyn except that there were more of Dad's family than Mom's and that several of Moms already had relocated to the Bronx (Charles and Martin). Perhaps there was a better economic climate in the Bronx at the time. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Here are some of Dad’s jobs:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1936-38 Short Order Cook on Grille at Diner&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1946; Jerome Ave Remote Development Shuttle Service&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1953; Asbury Car Service&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1951; Fieldstone School&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1945; Policeman in Lincoln Tunnel&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1953; Riverdale Limo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1949; United Nations&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1948; Veteran Limousine Rental Service&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;1943 Weiss: Chas&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. Weiss on Prospect Ave and Harold Weiss on the Grand Concourse: We had to go up to the shop on a gigantic freight elevator which also held or Chrysler Windsor limousine to load and unload many boxes of tuxedos for my father to deliver.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some times I had to stay with Harold. I would bang out rhythms on boxes and Harold finally told me that it was annoying and to stop. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;                      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The basement of Chas. Weiss was a shop with many beautiful ladies sewing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ms Baron, from the Carolinas, cuddled and spoke nice to me and taught me how to make silk buttons for the gowns.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Upstairs my future cousin, Dorothy modeled and fitted clients to gowns. I really enjoyed going to this place.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; I believe that most of my father’s contract work came from his affiliation with the knights of Pythian and finally with Dave Greenfield. I would go with my father on his visits. I me t Mr. Greenfield several times. He did for my father what Bob Vinton did for Prince Faisal Sudairy, and I did for Mr. Jizawi. He identified the potential contracts and assisted him prepare his estimate and bid proposal to carry out the work. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Dad’s other Family:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This is where my father and lea set up business and lived in Riverdale: Knoll’s Crescent. Theses are the people who my father chooses to complement his God given family. I found myself hating them, adjusting, liking them, and even being friendly. They were all uneducated and labor class mentality-types. This was there own choosing. We had nothing in common. I found Lea attractive and very easy to discuss social things I could not discuss with my mother. She turned out to be a very good friend. I was always happy for my father, that he had happiness and enjoyed these people. He never stopped caring nor supporting my mother and us. We always came first and that exacerbated Jackie and Patricia who knew in their hearts of hearts whenever I called or showed up that my father and Lea would drop every thing and pay attention. Because of Leas unending patience to listen to me talk about my friends, etc. I would call and visit with her. I believe my Dad and she knew how difficult I had with my mother and was trying to compensate me for the trouble I was having. On the other hand it could have a scheme Lea had to have me on her side against my mother to decide for divorce as to what a nice person she was. Tuesday evenings Dad would take Saul and I out to eat and they would pay for my weekly visits to my psychiatrist. They also always made a car available for me . On Christmas I would bring gifts I bought on Fifth Ave. to Queens. I believe they were insincere and jeered me behind my back but I wanted to enjoy a semblance of family. Later when we were married Christina and I visited from New Haven when there was a blizzard and our car sank in a snow drift. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Knoll’s Crescent is one of several apartment that they had lived and conducted there business in Riverdale.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; 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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Chapter &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;6 Brother  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;My brother &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;was born on Dec 4, 1941 just a few days before the attack on Pearl Harbor.He is my only brother and sibling.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; As a very young child, he  looked liked a blond cherub (much like his son Steve and his grandsons) and behaved accordingly. He was good. He now has a grand son, named Seth who looks similar. His son Steve also resembled my brother as a child. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And, very good in school. He got good grades in both his academics and character. While I hid and was ashamed of my yellow report cards, Saul showed his like the morning paper, without blinking an eye. He was not proud but matter of fact and peaceful. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He got along with other children and was able to navigate social and family life very well. He usually took a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;laise faire&lt;/span&gt; attitude to most things and stayed out of the fray. We were definitely opposites, but learned early on to love and care for each other. A loyalty and bond developed between each other so that while we chided and cajoled we were family and bonded by blood. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; You could leave him in the middle of the floor, with or with out toys and come back some times later and he would still be in the same spot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He was left-handed and when eating, we would bump against each other.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;He was favored by my mother and any fight between us she would usually call it “Barie’s fault”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Of course, we’d both point at each other, saying: ”he did it!” there were the rare moments when one or the other of us would confess and simply takes what’s rightly coming. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;On Faile Street we played in the sun parlor in our two halves. He liked my half because I built a nice house and played in it. He would visit me and we played together in this house. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; He was a terrible and picky eater. For one of his birthdays I bought him the album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Doc the Clock”&lt;/span&gt;. We memorized so many nice songs from this album: especially “&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am Goody from Playtime land and I’ve come to sing to You, I’ve got playmates far and near, so be my playmate too, won’t you”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Between seven and twelve I would care for him when my mother went to work. I would make us grilled cheese sandwiches and we would watch television, listen to the radio and practice ventriloquism. On Saturday mornings we would listen to the radio and go to the Star movies to see three movies for 25 cents. Usually, Charlie Chan, Red Ryder (and Little Beaver), Gene Autry or Roy Rogers, and some other old film. I’d buy us "Juji fruit", "Raisenettes" and/or his favorite, "Non-parrells". In every house we lived in we had to separate our stuff and area. He was good at keeping the rules. We would fight a lot about every and any thing. And, we also would apologize and make up almost as quick and for no good reason. The reason was usually to get on with the day.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;For a period I took him with me to hang drapes and split my earning s with him. It helped him and me. I could do more. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In every way I tried to be the best “big brother”. I felt responsible and I did love and care for him. I guided him in his toilet, sleeping, and play. We were four years apart in age but I was much more agile and froward. My mother woke up after ten and she worked at S&amp;amp;W most evenings. My father was not home as he was either living with Lea and her children or working. So my brother and I were alone and I had to care for him. I entertained him with puppet shows, dolls, and puppets. I sang to him and played records. I told him stories and we played together. When we went out I held his hand and made sure that every knew he was my brother and I would protect him. He often came to me telling me that someone was bothering him so I could defend him. I took him to school every morning because for several years before I went on to another we went to the same school. One morning we arrived at school and it was dark. No one was there. It turned out we came too early. He was upset but it actually was very funny and the teachers consoled us. In the evenings I would make grilled cheese sandwiches and other snacks for us frying them on the fire or in the pan using gadgets to make pockets I bought in Woolworth’s. We shared a pint of ice cream and in the morning I made the breakfast consisting of eggs, toast and milk. This was all before I was fifteen and he eleven. We were so very close and depended on each other. He was my dear little brother and I cared for him. It was not pleasant for Saul when I started to have friends, girlfriends, and work and other schools so that he and I got separated and he had to find his own way. I tried to help his adjust and understand but while I believe his mind understood his heart was unhappy. I did try taking him with me but it wasn’t the same and eventually he preferred to remain at home. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;With the zeal of a missionary, I cared for my younger brother with all my heart and soul until I discovered girls and got more serious about outside friends. I may have been heavy handed in leaving Saul in a lurch but discussed my interest and later even included him in early dates.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;One of the behaviors that was peculiar to us was not being the last to hang-up the phone. After saying goodbye we’d stay on the phone till the other would hang up not wanting to be the one that actually terminated the call. I am not sure if that started with Mom, Dad or who it just something we did as a family. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Before he started seriously seeing Fran, we went to Atlantic City to a bar and we really made a lot of mischief: I started a fight and we fought some drunken guys until the fight was broken up. We met girls and fooled around with them. It was a night, which was never to happen again. We did it because we could. It was an adventure! His first girlfriend’s name was Tamara Bernstein, with braces and his first best friend was Joe Stemp.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; As a child, Saul liked sports, bike riding, and bowling. As he grew older and, knowing my interest in music, he took up playing the saxophone; and, played in bands and professionally at nightclubs and for weddings. His group even recorded a record called “Satellite Baby”, which was distributed and played on the radio. Later he was accepted into the High School of Music and Art where one of his classmates was the famous Dianne Carroll, and, upon graduation, accepted in the Julliard School of music. He, instead, opted to join the Navy band; and, for four years sailed the USS Roosevelt only to disembark once. He played the Oboe in the Navy Band. I believe the reason he made that choice was because of both the money and the kind of involvement it would involve. I don’t believe Saul thought he was really that creative and committed, as it would require. Julliard has a reputation for demanding hard work and remaking and reshaping the personality and character of its students. In my case I welcomed this reshaping when I went to Pratt, I do not believe this is what Saul wanted or desired. I remember his saying that he was not ready to make the commitment Julliard required. So his decision was an honest and one of a person with integrity. He had already experienced Music and Art High School, so he could understand what might lie ahead for him at Julliard. I do believe Saul is a hard worker, so it was not the work ethic, but it was the reshaping and surrendering himself for something I do not believe he really wanted. There was something else. I am not sure he ever really found it. I know he loves his grandchildren I also believe he was a man a duty, loyalty and responsibility. I do not believe he had much the sense for creative imagination. At least, I had never seen this side of him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Soon after his return from the Navy he married the second girl he met, Francine Rusco from somewhere near Moshulo Parkway. 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&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Chapter 7 Bronx People &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="CITE"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There were people that did not try to harm but misled and directed me to evil.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Howard who beat and bullied me on Faile Street: He was older and much bigger than I was and I wanted to be his friend. I remember him telling me when he discovered my hiding place and threatening me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The many gangs which cornered and beat me as I walked to and from PS 20 daily.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Irwin who fought me until I invited him to my birthday party and gave him a nice gift.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;      &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The dishonest police man who threatened me after a dead drunk driver friend from there neighborhood crashed head-on in to my dad’s new Ford station wagon after my Mom and I had just picked it up brand new from the showroom.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mother was very upset and so was I; I did not know what to do because they threatened me that if I demanded a test for drunkenness of the driver and the test, which they assured me they would administer and rig in favor of the driver, turned out to be negativism, then I would be arrested and fined, etc. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The policeman who boxed in my car on Simpson Street one of late nights I visited Dorothy before we got married. The policeman followed me for nearly one year bating and waiting so that he could arrest me for some violation. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="CITE"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span class="CITE"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;John McGiver was my &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;High School English teacher who became famous actor and left School at the same time as I graduated. He invited me to see him act in his first Off Broadway play” The assent of F-6” and helped to learn to read Shakespeare.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Alexander Golumba&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; was my fist and beloved dentist living on the Grand Concourse and 170 Street with his office on the next block on (680) Fox Street at the corner of east 163 Street. I remember every thing about his building, lobby, entrance, foyer, waiting room and office. He always had a nurse. I have dreamt of him often. He was probably a Greek/American: He had a great sense of humor, always told me stories, and was very comforting to my mother who eventually had all her teeth removed because of a chronic case of gingervitus. When he died we were invited to his funeral. From 1949 until he died he was our family Dentist till he died. He would teach me about words and things in life. Once he told me that the four letter word starting with “F___k” was derived from Latin and meant, “to make” and that all words have meanings and ideas. He was one of the first person to formally give me lessons in tolerance and appreciating the positive differences between people&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Al and Rose Silverman:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; I met Mr. Silverman in about 1949 when I applied for a part time job. My first employers on Southern boulevard. They lived in Brooklyn and commuted every day by train and or auto. Mr. Silverman worked all his life in the textile industry and when he retired bought this store with all its inventory form Herbert Handler.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was called Handler’s.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I came looking for a job it was still called Handler’s but then they changed the name to Debrose after daughter Debby and wife Rose. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;B&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bambi Lobkowicz&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: 1199 Park Ave.: Apt 19 E: My Mother was nanny to her child: her husband was a business broker.&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Benjamin Silverstein&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt; One my three best friends living on Simpson Street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was the younger of two children gifted with a cantor’s singing voice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He later &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;turned out to be a Homo sexual and moved to Greenwich Village.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We would walk to and from school with each other and after dinner visit at each other s house.  We were friends from 1946 when we first moved to Simpson Street and i started attending P.S. 20 till 1952 when we moved to Holland Ave and high school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although all through high school I came back to Simpson Street because I worked for Mr. Silverman at Debrose Decorators.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But the main time of our friendship was from 1946 when we were in second grade til 1949 when we finished sixth grade and p.s. 20.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I went to p.s. 75 and since they lived down at the other end of Simpson Street they went to a different junior high school.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ben Berger&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: New Rochelle, NY. And was one of Dad’s and Lea’s best friends from her old neighborhood and responsible for there meeting. Ben was married with a daughter and after beginning in an apartment on Tiffany street and store front fixing TVs after the war having been trained by the GI bill he sent on to work for severla very large electronic companies specializing in miniaturization and reproducing speakers made by the name brands at a fraction of the cost. He finally wound up in a multi story house on a lake in New Rochelle after having a great house near Gun Hull Road in the Bronx. If Dad and Lea were not in there apartment they were staying with the Bergers in a gust bedroom just made for them. His work took him to Belgium and then to Japan where he set up factories and produced miniature speakers. As I grew up ben would kid me that smaller and cheaper was better. He must have been deaf because his speaker’s sound lousy compared to the Bose and other speakers I bought to give me the sound I liked for my stereo. Today I look at the miniaturized headphones and computer a speaker and I know that it was Ben and his persistence in miniaturization that makes these things possible. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Not at home very much he enjoyed making his family and dad happy by having a nice home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I brought my girl friends to visit Ben which totally delight him. He was amused by Hyohee and of course was mesmerized by Barbara. Christina was also introduced to Ben and his family and we saw his little workroom. I remember standing at the dock of Ben’s boat dock and talking to Hyohee about her home in Seoul. It was also the last place I saw Lea’s daughter Jackie. It was there that Lea questioned me as to why good things to not go to everyone especially dad and her? Lea died some years later of colon cancer and Dad of a burst angina on an artery leading from his heart. They were both happiest when with the Bergers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Berland &lt;/span&gt;was a presser who owned a laundry on Prospect Ave for Weiss Tuxedo. I spent hours on many days as a child keeping g him company while Dad made deliveries of pick ups. Berland lived on one of side streets off Pelham Parkways and was fat, bald and always sweating from the heat of his steam iron and hard work,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoBodyText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Billy Parks: &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;was like my&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;big brother and protecting me; and, bringing joy and adventure into my life. Besides my father Billy was my first hero and “good guy”. He was a typical urban Tom Sawyer whose non-reasoned use of the city kept him active and exploring. We were too young to relate as urban or rural but when ever I think of Billy rural comes to mind because other than the “Y” the places he took me were rural, even if they were the junk yards and factories of Hunts Point. We explored and discovered.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It could have the Mississippi and Billy Tom Sawyer. When I later read and saw the Tom Sawyer movies I thought of time with Billy.&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt; Billy was my first male hero and best friend on Faile Street&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  He was  Catholic and had a pretty little blond haired sister named Carol. Mrs. Parks was a beautiful, kind and gentlewoman.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mr. Parks was a tombstone marble carver and quarried granite. He was even taller and more muscular than my father was.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Billy, Ralph and i would go on adventures to the East River, war searchlights, army trucks, and sawdust mounds in lumberyards, cemeteries, and the YMCA. I knew bill for all the years we live on Faille Street from 1941 to 19469 from age 4 to 9) Billy was several years older than I but was so patient, kind and protective of me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was like my older brother and when several years later i saw him when we were both older he said he did not want to see me because our lives were now so different.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I surely did not understand this and really felt rejected. It was the first rejection i ever knew from someone i loved based on social factors.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I still am trying to sort out this and I often pray for Billy, and his family.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; The parks and the Nuzzi have taught us how to exchange Christmas gifts on Christmas. It was Mrs. Parks i me the night of the hurricane; we were both lifted off the ground in from of my house and to her buildin
