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A tad maudlin on Father's Day......
Jun. 15th, 2008 03:47 pmPop was a moderating influence in our family. He was an amazingly gregarious man, a true extrovert, and a very engaging soul. He was a detail representative for Endo Pharmaceuticals, until their purchase by DuPont. Thereafter he became their lead hospital-based detail representative for the city of NY, representing both their medications as well as their durable medical equipment lines.
It's hard in some ways to believe its going on 13 years since his death. In other ways it feels like decades.
Pop had the sense when to push and when to back off and he also had the strength to tell Mom when to do the same. She knows full well just how to push my buttons, at times making it an art form. Pop often kept her from doing it, something I'm certain was not easy, even for him. On for than one occasion I overheard a conversation between them that started, "For Christ's sake Doris, get off the kid's back!"
Pop was likely the greatest of my supporters and defenders, though it was often behind the scene, & not with my knowledge. I was in medical school when I found out from Aunt Rita (Pop's kid sister) that open school night was often a challenge for Mom, though Pop simply took in stride.
The NYC school system of my childhood, the era of the baby boom, every public school saw hundreds of kids in every grade level; classes were segregated into 'the brightest of the bright', brighter kids, bright kids, not-so-bright kids, slower kids, etc. In every school I attended K through 9, there were never fewer than a dozen classes at each grade level, and never less than 40 kids per class. I always placed in the class of the brightest kids, generally in the middle of the class, grade score-wise. More than once my folks were told on Parent-Teacher night, I wasn't 'living up to my full potential'. Mom would cringe. Pop's response was simply to ask if this was the brightest class at my grade level, and when that was confirmed, he followed with, "and he's in the middle of his class?" When told yes, his response was to tell the teacher to get off my back. His take was if I was doing my work, getting it done well, and in the middle of the brightest class of my peers, that was good enough. Aunt Rita said Pop wanted me to be able to stop and smell the roses along the way.
My kid sister was another story. Susan was always at the pinnacle, the best of the best and brightest academically. I went to an academically specialized high school, where I finished in the dead center of my graduating class, followed by a state university center, where I graduated Magna Cum, and then on to a state university medical school. My sister followed 2 years behind me, Salutatorian of her HS class (same HS I attended), Salutatorian of her class at Smith, and then again at Hopkins Medical. Susan leads a superlative life, a full professor at Hopkins with a chair, always jetting off somewhere to deliver a paper, accept a grant or an award, or treat a member of some royal family. I provide primary care and deliver babies, mostly for people who speak no or little English, in Northern California. I'm proud of my sister and I'm proud of what I do. In many ways, I have Pop to thank for not making me feel any less a success than she.
So, here's to you Pop. Happy Father's Day. I miss you badly, more than these meager words express. I have faith you know how much I love you and just how much you're missed. Give my love to Zaydeh and Grandpa Sam; thanks for being the stong men you were and for helping me become the man I am.
It's hard in some ways to believe its going on 13 years since his death. In other ways it feels like decades.
Pop had the sense when to push and when to back off and he also had the strength to tell Mom when to do the same. She knows full well just how to push my buttons, at times making it an art form. Pop often kept her from doing it, something I'm certain was not easy, even for him. On for than one occasion I overheard a conversation between them that started, "For Christ's sake Doris, get off the kid's back!"
Pop was likely the greatest of my supporters and defenders, though it was often behind the scene, & not with my knowledge. I was in medical school when I found out from Aunt Rita (Pop's kid sister) that open school night was often a challenge for Mom, though Pop simply took in stride.
The NYC school system of my childhood, the era of the baby boom, every public school saw hundreds of kids in every grade level; classes were segregated into 'the brightest of the bright', brighter kids, bright kids, not-so-bright kids, slower kids, etc. In every school I attended K through 9, there were never fewer than a dozen classes at each grade level, and never less than 40 kids per class. I always placed in the class of the brightest kids, generally in the middle of the class, grade score-wise. More than once my folks were told on Parent-Teacher night, I wasn't 'living up to my full potential'. Mom would cringe. Pop's response was simply to ask if this was the brightest class at my grade level, and when that was confirmed, he followed with, "and he's in the middle of his class?" When told yes, his response was to tell the teacher to get off my back. His take was if I was doing my work, getting it done well, and in the middle of the brightest class of my peers, that was good enough. Aunt Rita said Pop wanted me to be able to stop and smell the roses along the way.
My kid sister was another story. Susan was always at the pinnacle, the best of the best and brightest academically. I went to an academically specialized high school, where I finished in the dead center of my graduating class, followed by a state university center, where I graduated Magna Cum, and then on to a state university medical school. My sister followed 2 years behind me, Salutatorian of her HS class (same HS I attended), Salutatorian of her class at Smith, and then again at Hopkins Medical. Susan leads a superlative life, a full professor at Hopkins with a chair, always jetting off somewhere to deliver a paper, accept a grant or an award, or treat a member of some royal family. I provide primary care and deliver babies, mostly for people who speak no or little English, in Northern California. I'm proud of my sister and I'm proud of what I do. In many ways, I have Pop to thank for not making me feel any less a success than she.
So, here's to you Pop. Happy Father's Day. I miss you badly, more than these meager words express. I have faith you know how much I love you and just how much you're missed. Give my love to Zaydeh and Grandpa Sam; thanks for being the stong men you were and for helping me become the man I am.
