Thursday, January 14, 2021

Losses

In my last post, I wrote about recent losses as I approach 70.  They have become quite frequent in the past year.  Just a reminder of our mortality, I suppose, and a normal part of aging.  But I'm feeling a need to comment on them, to remember, to keep them straight.  I've decided to go way back, and start with the first loses I can remember in my life.

When I was about 10 or 12, a little girl from our neighborhood died of leukemia.  I didn't even know her name, but she often rode a tricycle down Potter Street, where I lived, to the next corner, and then turned around and went back up the street with her mother walking patiently behind.  We would often see them after dinner.  She was a pretty little blond girl, no older than 4 or 5, and the tricycle was red.  My mother sometimes spoke to her mother, and I'm sure she knew lots of details about the girl that I didn't know.  I remember, after she died, my mother made a very solemn occasion of telling us about her death after dinner one night.  I could see that my mother was very shaken by her death, but somehow it didn't seem very relevant to me.  I thought it was sad on several levels - that the child didn't get to live a full life, that the parents would have to go on without her - but it didn't seem to affect me personally.

When I was 12, my grandfather Hyman Rosenfield died.  He was my dad's dad.  I remember him as a very formal gentleman, soft spoken, who was crippled by arthritis.  He moved slowly and deliberately, probably because he was in pain.  At the time I knew he had rheumatoid arthritis, but after his death, it was determined that he had lupus.  We didn't see my father's parents very often, so I have very few actual memories of them, particularly Grandpa Hyman, since I was just 12 when he died.  I do remember that when he died, my father went and stayed at my Grandma Bessie's house for about 2 weeks, while the family sat shiva.  Grandpa Hy's body was in the living room in a coffin on the day of the funeral, the mirrors were all draped in black, the men stopped shaving, and the women wore black ribbons pinned to the bodice of their dresses.  I don't remember anything about the funeral or internment.

When I was 18, my grandfather Emil Lokovic died.  He was my mom's dad.  I have very fond memories of him from my early years.  He raised airedale terriors, rabbits, chickens, ducks and other animals.  He always had a huge garden, and many fruit trees.  He wore overhauls and plaid shirts, and always had a knife in his pocket when he was out in the yard, which he used to uproot dandelions, cut flowers to bring into the house, cut up fruit for us right off the tree, and do some other chores around the place.  After we moved to Illinois, he drank a lot, and my cousins have memories of some difficult times that I was not there to see.

Shortly after Poppy's funeral, my cousin Phillip, who I think was about 16 at the time, shot himself.  He was the adopted son of my Aunt Fran and Uncle Ben, and they lived in Vermont.  We only saw them a couple of times a year.  I remember Phil as having much more freedom than we had.  I remember Phil and my brother David shooting chipmunks out in the woods near their house, and bringing back just the tails, which I thought was disgusting.  Phil took delight in dropping one on my shoulder or in my lap because he knew I didn't like to touch them, so I thought of him as a benign but annoying bully.  He became involved in drugs which were partly blamed for his suicide.

Today, Linda Geoghegan sent me a note telling me that Billy Yates, her cousin, had died.  I remember him from our childhood as a good looking, shy boy about the same age as Linda and I.  I always liked him, but we were both too shy for us to get to know each other well.  Linda sent me an article telling how in 1975, Billy had been chief engineer at MITS,  He was present when Ed Roberts and Paul Allen first entered a loader program and the BASIC program that Allen and Bill Gates, with some help from Monte Davidoff, had written into the MITS Altair 8800 personal computer, thus creating the first commercial home computer!  I remember Billy as a cute, shy, quiet boy.

Joan, Steve, Stevie Umphress
Augie Bartel
babies
Bessie Rosenfield
Emma Lokovic
Lillian Rosenfield
Zolman Rosenfield
Frances Hubenet
Gloria Stearn

Ben Hubenet
Tony Miani
Dottie Olson
Margie Davis 
Effie Bartel
Ann Frances Strollen
Iris Sonkin
Ed Morris
Evelyn Yates
Edwin Yates
Ray Butterfield
Laura Wright
Jane Beer Hodel
Jan Kopis
Janice
Shawn McCammon-Johnson
Aline Davis
Karen Hubenet
Marilee Kopis
Uncle Dave
David Rosenfield
Hilda Peterson
Paul Fuller
Diana Miani
Myles Geoghegan