“My father taught himself how to chord the piano. When he use to come home, he used to sit me on the table. Now, I was two years old when this started. I don’t remember much, my mother told me. And he used to sing to me and teach me how to sing. That’s how I learned. I betcha I know over five-hundred songs. He hid behind the songs as long as he could but then I got a little older, and I found out my old man was a drunk. I wasn’t happy about that. I also learned that my mother didn’t love me. She loved her family. Her family came before me. But I made my way. I did what I wanted to do.”

“Damn straight,” I say with pride.

“I did” He gleams.

“When I was six years old, we moved to Pittsburg. I was in kindergarten—1929, it was the depression. People were living on empty corners of the streets. Living in cardboards boxes with a little fire to keep them warm.”

“That’s awful; you vividly remember this?” I say shocked.

“Yes, I remember seeing that. Of course, I do. But that was the depression, things were bad. But we didn't know it; we didn't have any money, so it didn’t mean anything. We didn’t care. After about four years in Pittsburg, my old man smashed up a car. He had been working for my uncle but got in too deep. He used to carry a gallon of hooch wherever he went. You know what hooch is? It’s bootlegged alcohol; they use to make it in the backyards. They use to call it white lightning. Anyway, let me tell you about Pittsburgh.”

Papa always gets side-tracked, he’s a man filled with novel’s worth of information. It’s clear that its tough for him to talk about it. I slip him another cough drop as his throat grows scratchy. You can tell he has a weakness when it comes to his past. My family says that’s why he’s still powering through life, he’s too scared to face his parents. It’s as if his words are passing through a garbage disposal, cutting his magic and chopping his spirit. It breaks my heart.

“When we moved to Pittsburgh, and I went outside the kids said to me, all of these kids, they asked me ‘What are you? Catholic or Protestant?’ What the hell do I know, I was six years old. I never even heard of Catholic or Protestant. I said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ They said, ‘Boy, what is your nationality?’ I said, ‘I’m an American.’ So finally they make me understand what they were trying to figure out. I says, ‘I’m a Jew.’ They beat the hell out of me. At six years old they stuck me in a ditch and threw sticks at me. They threatened to light a fire.”

“Are you serious?” I mutter, shocked.

“Yes, I’m serious. This is where my wonderful parents moved. At ten I was back in Cleveland, that’s when we moved back. That's when I thought things would change. Boy, was I wrong. We always went back to my Grandma’s house. I loved my Grandma and Aunt Fanny. Rose was my grandmother’s name. Your Bubby, Rochelle, is named after her. She already spoke English, but she was from Poland. Anyways…”

There he is getting side tracked again. I giggle.

“My mother had a big family. Seven boys and two girls and she never gave me any love. Never. Never a hug. But her nephews and nieces—they got money whenever they needed it. Even when my mother didn’t have it, she gave it to them. How do you figure that they come before me?” But I didn’t learn until later on. It didn’t dawn on me what was happening. I just continued to learn my lesson over and over. Saturday nights were the worst. My grandmother used to make us dinner. She had all of her children and grandchildren and daughter-in-laws, you name it. We had a big family. My mother was always in the kitchen with my Grandma Rose. My mother says to me and asks ‘what can I make you?’ I asked for some French fried potatoes. And she told me she wasn’t going to make me some god damn french-fried potatoes. And about twenty minutes later, my Uncle Louis asked for some french-fried potatoes, and of course, my mother said yes to him.”

“Were you pissed off?”

“I didn’t realize it at the time. I was like, that’s the family, and they come first. But they didn't come first. I should’ve come first.”

“Well, you come first in my book.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my mother. She was a bitch, that’s all I could say.”

“But look at you, you have all of these people who love you now—look at the life you’ve made. We wouldn’t be here without you.” I always try to make him see the good in life. A bad attitude can only cause bad health at this age.

“You’re damn right; I dreamt every last one of you.”