Leon Schluger, my dad, dancing in the middle.
LOSING MY FATHER I picked Allen up at my parents’ house and asked him if he would like to have dinner before we went to see our dad in the hospital. Allen didn’t want to wait to see his father so we went straight to the hospital. It was a good thing we did. What we saw was an amazing act of human will; our dad was almost unconscious but he had forced himself to stay alive until Allen was safely home. Dad opened his eyes and said, “Hello, son.” Then he closed his eyes and was gone. After he died we learned that he was born with only one kidney. There was no such thing as dialysis back then but if there were I’m certain he would have needed it. I had just given birth to Michael, he was only six weeks old when Dad died. He always said he hoped he would have two daughters-in-law as wonderful as his two sons-in-law. Dad loved them both. He was a very giving man, talented and handy and creative. Dad struggled his whole life to keep his busi- ness going. And my mother was at his side the whole way. We used to laugh at the way my mother
spoke certain words in English. “Nana Sadie” we would ask, “say Atlantic City.” She would go along with the joke – she could say each syllable properly – At-lan-tic Cit-y. But when she put them togeth- er it always came out “At-clon-tic City.” She was a wonderful mom and the cutest little lady ever. My parents worked very hard to make a better life for their children. Every evening my mother would eat dinner with the family, then take a nap in her chair, wake up, wash the dinner dishes, go to bed and be up early to repeat the whole process again. I am so proud to be part of that beautiful generation of immigrants that helped build Amer- ica. They built the country with nothing but sweat and hard work. They loved their families and cared for them the best they could. Their families and their fellow immigrants were all the support they had.
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