Numbers

I was never a good math student, but I think about numbers all the time. Regarding finances, for example.  I check my investments too much, though not as often as a dear friend who is addicted to financial porn and its fellow travelers -- the wealth calculators that always conclude that no matter how much you have -- you really CAN'T afford to retire.

I check so often because I really, really enjoy not having to be a full time lawyer.  If the assets deplete too much, or my investments fail, I guess I'll have to revisit that.  Years ago, my Dad checked his retirement funds all the time.  After his third grandchild was born, and it was clear the baby would be getting virtually no support from his father, my Dad concluded he'd have to come out of retirement to support the kid.  Luckily, he died a few months later, without having to do that...

More than money, I think about numbers as they relate to age.  Here again -- my thoughts turn to my Dad, and where he was in life when he was at the stage I am now.

In the Spring of 1977, he was 58.  I was a high school sophomore.  I had a small dilemma.  I had developed a strong fear of flying -- mostly due to a rough flight we had the year before, returning to NY from Miami.  The turbulence was fierce -- I remember the stewardess (back then they were stewardesses, not "flight attendants") literally hitting the deck as the plane rocked, somewhere over the Carolinas.  It had an effect on me -- I figured I'd just drive everywhere, or take a train.

But there was an offer:  a high school trip to Europe.  As I recall, the cost was $500 all included -- airfare, a week's hotel fee, transfers.  I really, really wanted to go.  My Dad especially wanted me to as well -- even though I had the money saved from my lawn cutting business, he offered to pay.  But I didn't want to get on a plane -- especially for a long flight across the icy North Atlantic.

Dad talked me into it.  We flew to London.  My close friend Gerry was along -- we were both big Monty Python fans -- and for us there was nothing better than walking around England quoting our favorite show and movies.  Then we went to Amsterdam -- Van Gogh and Anne Frank.  I walked through the house, and was mildly interested -- the Holocaust was still an abstraction to me, as we had no family directly affected.  Years later, of course, I'd marry the daughter of a Survivor, and the Shoah would become all too real.

The trip ended with a day in Brussels.  And then we flew home.  The trip was a highlight for me -- I still think of it, though I've been back to Europe several times since -- twice more to London.  And I still remember Dad greeting me at JFK -- with a huge smile and a hug, and a knowing "Aren't you glad you overcame your fear and went?"  I was.

I guess I assumed that day I'd have him in my life for a good long time after. Fate would decide otherwise -- he was to die a short 5 years later.  Again, the numbers...

My deepest regret about my father is he never got to meet the products of my true life's calling -- D1 and D2.  He would have adored them , I know.  And they would have adored him, as well.

I never realized, when the Ds were little, how much I talked about him, until one quiet morning, at our old house.  D1 must have been about 5 or 6 -- matter of fact, she was, since it was after we had moved home following the Andrew required rebuild.  I was sitting on the couch, reading the Herald, and D1 was snuggled next to me, reading one of her picture books.  She looked up at me, with her doe eyes, and asked "Daddy --would Grandpa Hy have loved me?"  I lost it, and held her close, and assured her he absolutely would have.

And now, more numbers. 23 or so years have passed, and D1 is about to marry.  D2 is set to fly home tomorrow -- the sisters have planned a lot of bonding time together -- even though the non religious D2 would happily skip the "creepy" mikveh set for Wednesday night.

And on 9/3/17, we have a big party planned.  I hope I have many numbers of years left, to see what happens, and, if the Big Man so desires, to meet my grandchildren.  Hopefully plenty of numbers left.