David Past 50

For Father’s Day, I am posting the remembrance of my father I wrote upon his death in 2003. It is still my first inclination to phone him when I have something to discuss. My father was a complex man in a very simple package. Growing up, I heard the tales of his earlier life. An apartment on 26th Street in a building which still had an outhouse … the move to Sunnyside … summers in Carmel and weekends in Rockaway … Xavier High School – a Catholic military school – as a twelve year old “Jew” … Manhattan College at 15 … off to war as an enlisted sailor at 17 before returning to graduate. Fordham Law … my mother … L.A. … Middle Bay Golf Club … the law practice in Jackson Heights. I heard all the stories – most many times – and I loved to listen. But I never knew that guy. I’m sure others could better capture that Arthur Goldberg on paper. I did, however, know my father and he, too, inspired a few tales worth telling. When I was young I could not imagine why he was not sitting in the Oval O...

My daughter, my nephew and I were on our way to a Knicks game a few seasons back when we stopped by my mother’s apartment for a quick visit. As we were leaving, I asked her if she’d like to join us since we had an extra ticket. She declined before adding, “But I’d love to go The Millrose Games if I’m still alive.” It was the last thing she’d ever say to me face to face. We spoke on the phone afterward, but I didn’t see my mother again until a massive stroke robbed her of speech and consciousness for the last few weeks of her life. That was December, 2008. The Games went on without her several weeks later. The most celebrated indoor track meet in the world has, in fact, gone on uninterrupted since before her birth having begun its run at Madison Square Garden in 1914 after a few years as a private event for the employees of Wanamaker Stores. This week, the New York Times reported that, despite the financial support of USA Track & Field, the organizers are set to take the ev...

In celebration of a long-anticipated Opening Day, I've confined this month's blog topics to the subject of baseball. The Mets won 148 games and lost 105 in the season and a half the indefatigable Julio Cesar Robles Franco graced their roster. They are 286-297 since. Coincidence? You decide. Franco began his major league career in 1982 and remained active until 2007. Along the way, he played for seven different teams (two of them twice) and wore six different uniform numbers. He routinely played winter ball in his native Dominican Republic and also played a few regular seasons in the Japanese and Mexican Leagues during three separate sabbaticals from MLB. In essence, he played year-round baseball for 25 years. Remembered best as a utility man, he was once a star middle infielder batting .341 and scoring 108 runs in his best season and driving in 98 in another. More importantly, he seemed to love the game the way fans imagine they would if they had the talent to play. ...

In celebration of a long anticipated Opening Day, I've confined this month's blog topics to the subject of baseball. “I love baseball,” said Woody Allen. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just beautiful to watch.” Thomas Boswell went a bit deeper and wrote of, “… adapting the spirit to baseball’s deliberate speed and its demand for heightened awareness of detail.” He added that there is, “a coexistence of total relaxation and keen anticipation”; which I regard as the closest anyone has ever come to defining the essence of the true baseball fan. Baseball is like no other game. It is unique in its symmetry and in its artistry. The game is so flawlessly designed that a ball hit in the hole, fielded cleanly and thrown accurately by the shortstop will result in a one-step call at first base – regardless of whether the players are 9-year-olds on 45 foot sandlot bases or major leaguers in the seventh game of the World Series. The game is also unique in the madd...

We all remember exactly where we were for the 1963 assassination of JFK or the great Northeast Blackout of 1965. Similarly, our parents’ generation recalled their whereabouts on V-E Day and our children will always note where they were on 9/11. We tend to share those personal details when we talk about these historic events. This month marks the anniversary of an occasion every bit as momentous to anyone born before 1960. On February 9, 1964, The Beatles came to The Ed Sullivan Show . But, nobody has a story about where they were when John, Paul, George and Ringo took to the stage in front of 728 live attendees and 73 million television viewers. That’s because we were all in the exact same place … in our living room or den, with our entire families, huddled around a grainy, black and white television. That was the power Ed Sullivan held over American families from 1948 to 1971 when audiences exceeding 50 million were the weekly norm. Though I was still very young when the Beatl...

A few hours ago we had 17 people over for Thanksgiving. They comprised four generations and ranged in age from 3 to 84. In that setting, it’s not hard to find reasons to be thankful. I have to assume my experience was not unique. Whatever wrinkles individual families apply to their personal celebrations, more than any American holiday, we do Thanksgiving pretty much the same. It may look, smell and taste different next door, but chances are very good that it all boils down to family and food. Thanksgiving is also distinguished by the fact that its purpose - first declared by Abraham Lincoln - holds true today. So many of us actually use the day to step back and give thanks for what we have. Gluttony aside, it’s a good holiday; one that tends to reveal the best of human nature. This year, the fourth Thursday in November couldn’t have come too soon. After all, it’s hard to turn on a television, open a newspaper, a magazine, or a web browser without finding a young celebrity with so...

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.” Dr. Martin Luther King My friend, Cal Ramsey, awakened to a ringing phone on August 28th, 1963. Wilt Chamberlain was calling to say he thought they should go to Washington to hear Martin Luther King speak. Cal agreed and, after a hastily arranged flight, they were among a sea of people privileged to hear Dr. King tell a still-segregated country about his dream. I once asked if it occurred to him that day that he might see a...