Posts Tagged ‘father’

Dr. Robert Fisch: Kissing the Cold, Hard Marble

January 3, 2014

Dr. Robert Fisch

Dr. Robert Fisch




I was blessed with a wonderful father and did my best to be the best father I could be as well. So I was especially moved by Holocaust survivor Dr. Robert Fisch‘s tribute to his father in his remarkable book, Fisch Stories: Reflections on Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Here are three excerpts that capture the quiet heroism of the father and the loving devotion of the son.







My father enjoyed everything life could offer: music, food, theater, playing dominoes, and so forth. He and my mother had a shop that sold poultry and game. He was an exceptionally good person, and he helped so many needy people, mostly children in orphanages. In 1944, when he was 53 years old, Hungarian Nazis took him to a Hungarian concentration camp near the German border. A survivor told me that on the way he gave his food away, saying “I (more…)

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words . . . and a Few Tears

February 20, 2012


If this photo doesn’t lift your spirits and move you, I don’t know what will.

Thank you to all the servicemen and servicewomen who so loyally serve our country. Just the other day at the co-op, I approached a female (more…)

A Life Without Left Turns

November 26, 2011

This touching tribute to a loving father was written by Michael Gartner, the former president of NBC News who won a Pulitzer Prize in 1997 for editorial writing. I was fortunate to have a wonderful relationship with my dad too, and I have a soft spot for warm-hearted reminiscing like this.


A LIFE WITHOUT LEFT TURNS

Carl Gartner in 1934

My father never drove a car.

Well, that’s not quite right.

I should say I never saw him drive a car. He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

“In those days,” he told me when he was in his 90s, “to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.”

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:

“Oh, bull——!” she said. “He (more…)

A Father and Daughter’s Second Chance

July 5, 2011

Forgiveness meets acceptance meets wisdom in this powerful story of healing between a father and daughter. The story, written by Patty Rose of Livermore, California, appeared in Guideposts. May you know the peace and joy of healing any relationships in your life that are in need of it.

RECONNECTING THROUGH GOD’S GRACE
She left home at 18, certain she’d never see her father again. Suddenly, with the help of God’s grace, she was caring for him like he’d never done for her.

Patty Rose and her father


The phone call came one cool winter day. It was the manager of the trailer park where my father lived. “Mrs. Rose, something is seriously wrong with your father,” he said. “Would you come down here and check on him?”

It had been a long time since I’d seen my father, and I wasn’t in any hurry to change that. I had left home years ago and never looked back. I married a good man and (more…)

Love Letters

May 20, 2009

tons-of-wwii-era-lettersWhile cleaning out my dad’s storage room four years after he died, I opened a file cabinet drawer and there they were: neat bundles of letters from my grandfather to my father. During my dad’s service in World War II, his father wrote him a letter every single day. My dad was the envy of his buddies, many of whom rarely received mail. More than once, my grandfather wrote to them too, at my dad’s request, so his buddies wouldn’t feel so homesick.

daddy-and-erin-alnwick-castle

Daddy and Erin at Alnwick Castle when I visited there for a week

My dad was a carbon copy of his father—smart, clever, and kind-hearted. I did my best to carry the torch when my daughter, Erin, flew to England in the spring of 1998 to study abroad for five months at Alnwick Castle, not far from Scotland. Like my grandfather before me, I wrote my cub a letter every single day. Twice, I remember, I was in bed for the night until I was jolted upright by the realization that I hadn’t written her daily letter—so I hopped out of bed and fired up the computer. Erin kept her letters too, just as her grandfather had. And like my grandfather, I wrote to a couple of my daughter’s friends who rarely received mail from home and were feeling homesick.

The power of regular letter writing cannot be overstated. Even if (more…)