Berkowitz Kumin Bookatz sent out their disctintive BLUE Yahrzeit reminder for Davey My Boy, as dad would call him, and for Dad himself, whom we called DADDY or Dad when we got older.
Harold Greenwold died on July 13, 1980. A healthy man, a fit man, he led his people at Majestic Specialties on Superior Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio.
The sturdy building is still there. I checked years ago when I went to visit. The only way they'd knock it down is if it crumbled like paper all by itself.
Shades of Champlain near Miami.
They did love Dad but then he was transferred. From Cleveland to New... York... City. There he lost a power struggle with one Shep Zinovoy, a milliner, and the insides of Dad begun to slowly, ever so slowly shut down.
And he died.
Our DAVID was another story entirely. A brilliant young man with a rather large head he was christened autistic before they even knew the name.
Mon frere hadn't a chance. Every single thing was told to him by my mother. She meant well, of course, but he was simply a prisoner, until his death set him free.
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