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A Holiday Story

Posted December 24, 2008

You don’t know him.

He was born 88 years ago on a farm in New York’s Catskill Mountains. His parents came from the old country, but they met in New York City. One of the reasons his father liked his mother was because she could read.

The farm was about a hundred acres in size. His parents bought it from a woman who used to do a scam (yes, there always have been scams). The scam worked like this: The woman would sell the farm to immigrant families, take some of the money down, and come back for the rest later on. When they couldn’t pay all of the money they owed, she would throw them out and they would lose what they’d paid. After a while the woman was so sure people wouldn’t be able to pay that she left some of her stuff in the farmhouse.

This couple worked really, really hard. And when the woman came back, they had the money for her. She didn’t want to take it. They fought for the farm and they got to keep it. Nobody’s around who still remembers all the details. But they kept the farm. And it stayed in the family, intact, for many years. Not forever. For a long, long time, though.

It was a dairy farm. When Steve was growing up, he and his brothers and sisters and his parents worked as hard as you would expect. They’d wake up before dawn, milk the cows, and do all the other chores. Steve would drive a horse-and-buggy to the creamery up the hill, taking the milk to where it would stay fresh. Then he went off to the town’s one-room schoolhouse. His big sister was the star of the girl’s basketball team.

He was born on the fourth of July. You might have guessed that.

He grew up to be the kind of guy who could pretty much build or fix anything. There were a lot of things that his brothers and sisters could do too. They were a great family. Pop, his father, used to earn some extra money any way he could. For awhile he’d go out and hand-pump water at night into a tank at one of the nearby hotels, so that the guests could have water for their showers. And his mother was a special one. When she was in her nineties and couldn’t really see very well at all, she was still able to crochet blankets for her great-grandchildren. A great-granddaughter that she never lived to meet still sleeps with one of them. It’s a lovely, pale shade of green.

Steve never was the kind of guy who talked too much. He left that to the girls in his family. But when he talks, he likes to tell stories about growing up on the farm, or his days in the army. When he was a young man, he worked for awhile in the shipyards in Baltimore. Fortunately, he didn’t do that for too long. He remembers now the way the guys used to stick their hands into some kind of paste while they were working on the ships. Nobody knew that asbestos was bad.

He left the shipyards and headed back north, where he went to work as a carpenter. He spent fifty years in the union. (He still likes to go to union meetings every once in a while when he can.) If you’re ever in New York City, you can see some of the park benches he built when he was working for a small company that was based in the Bronx. He spent more than half his life working for that company. It finally went out of business a few years ago.

The benches are the ones with concrete legs and green wooden slats. When you see one of those benches, it’s a reminder: He worked here.

Central Park. Inwood. All the boroughs. More blocks than you could believe possible. He worked here. When New York City was having its fiscal crisis during the 1970’s and there wasn’t any money to spare for park benches, he’d get into the car at three in the morning and drive up to Boston to build them there.

He could pretty much build anything. He made a treehouse for the kids which even had a picture window and electricity. It had to be taken down when the house was sold. It probably wasn’t legal. But all that doesn’t matter. It was great while it lasted. There were a lot of great things along the way.

He’s been married to the same girl for 59 years. Many of them have been very good years. Some haven’t. They were lucky to find each other.

Happy Holidays from The Whiner to all the men and women out there whose names never get into the papers even though they do all the really important things. You know who you are.

And Merry Christmas from Whiner-in-Chief to her Dad.

The Whiner wants to know: In the spirit of the holidays, is there a story or memory you would like to share?

Reader Comments

  1. paprikapink

    Nice story. At first I misread it and thought you’d said that his father liked his mother because she used to do a scam. The story had a different flavor when I read back and cleared up that misconception.

  2. amy

    Great story. Cheers & hats off, Mr & Mrs. WIC.

  3. larry

    Lovely story, WIC. I’ve spent many a night on those benches your father built. My own story of a Christmas past involves a time when money was very tight. My fiance had beautiful long hair so I bought her some combs for her lovely locks. I had to sell my inherited pocket watch, my prized possession, to afford it. But she loving me cut off her hair and sold it to buy me a watch fob. Oh wait, that wasn’t me. I must have read that someplace.

    Good holidays to you all.

  4. petunia

    I want more! What a beautiful story, beautiful tone. I think there’s more to tell. Merry Christmas to the Whiner in Chief and to Steve, and his girl.

  5. H

    it’s a lovely story. happy holidays, everyone.

    And larry, that was really funny.

  6. bethS

    Thanks, W-i-C. This story reminds me that I need to use some of those closely hoarded sky miles to visit my parents asap.

  7. abo gato

    Thank you WIC for a lovely story. For all of us who have had their parents move on, it gives a bit of a heart tug. I would urge all of you who still have your folks to use those air miles or whatever you need to use, to get back home and see em as soon as you can.

    Merry Christmas, ya’ll.

  8. Justthefacts

    Very moving Whiner, thanks for sharing with us.

  9. BrooklynBorn

    When my kids were little, they spent endless hours playing on a cement dolphin in a small brooklyn park. Legend has it that Steve put that dolphin in that park. I hope my kid’s kids end up playing on it.
    Happiest of holidays to Whiner-in-chief’s family, including Steve and his girl.
    And to all of us who’ve gotten kicked in the shins in ‘08- let’s cheer on a better ‘09.

  10. Karenza

    I knew a great guy once named Allan. If he were alive today, he would be 106! He was orphaned as a young teen. Fortunately, he was very bright indeed and learned a great deal from the Jesuit priests who taught him. He thought about becoming a priest himself, but then decided to become a doctor. The priests in Jamaica where he lived helped him get the funds, etc. to go to Georgetown College in Washington, D.C. where he was a top student. He even went to medical school there working his way through with a job in the morgue! He went on to become a general practitioner in a rural area–one that today would be called, “under-served.” When he began, patients had to take a ferry across a river to the nearest hospital 30+ miles away. He delivered babies in snow storms, sewed stitches, gave tetnus shots, vaccinations, served in WWII. He didn’t take insurance because it wasn’t necessary since he charged only $4 for an office visit. During the Great Depression, he took strawberries, geese, etc. as a barter instead of cash. He had no pager, no cell phone, no photo copier, no fax, no computer. He made house calls. For more than 50 years, he worked 6 days a week and lived above the office. He had no partner and was “on call” 24/7, which meant every now and then a Christmas spent with a patient. Allan was my grandfather. He was the kindest, most gentle, most selfless person I have ever known. There isn’t anyone I have ever admired more. When he died, a patient wrote to us, “When I was sick and I heard him come to the door, I felt better already, just knowing that he was there.” When Barack Obama referred to his grandmother as one of the many “quiet heros” across America, I knew exactly who he was talking about. Madelyn, Steve, and Allan, just to name a few. :o )