trading pilots for ice cream
My grandfather was a scrawny Jewish kid from Brooklyn. His parents owned a shop. I have no idea what they sold. Penny candy was involved somehow, according to my mom's childhood memories, but that was probably just at the register. His dad was born in France, immigrated to America to avoid the Great War and wound up serving in it anyway. His mom was born in Russia. I don't know her story. Her name was Sarah. I was almost named after her, but my mom changed her mind.
My grandfather grew up really close with his older brother and their two cousins, also brothers, all in Brooklyn. One of those two cousins grew up to take on the stage name Stubby Kaye. He originated the role of Nicely Nicely Johnson in "Guys and Dolls" on Broadway. My grandfather loved to go to Broadway shows. He idolized his cousin for making it big.
My grandfather was nineteen when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He joined the Navy. He shouldn't have been allowed in because he was colorblind, but everyone taking the color test was shown the same series of images. His last name was Rakow. By the time the tester got to the Rs, my grandfather had memorized the correct answers by listening to the guys ahead of him. No one ever found out that the only color he could see clearly was red.
My grandfather was assigned to a boat in the South Pacific. I don't know what his job was, or what kind of ship it was exactly. I know it was a small boat that followed the aircraft carriers around. When pilots coming in to the carrier missed and landed in the ocean instead, my grandfather's ship would go pick them up. Because their boat was so small, they lacked a lot of the luxury amenities that the huge aircraft carriers had. When they picked up a pilot, they refused to give him back unless the carrier sent them tubs of ice cream in exchange. I think that sounds like a fair trade.
My grandfather met my grandmother at a party in Brooklyn after the war. She didn't think much of him at first. The first time he proposed to her, she rejected him. The second time it took. One of those proposals was on a carriage ride through Central Park. The other was at the top of the Empire State Building. My grandfather held her at the edge, looking down a hundred-odd stories, and said that if she didn't agree to marry him, he'd throw her off. I honestly can't remember if that was the one she accepted. I don't think it was. It makes for a good story, though.
My grandfather was a salesman. He never told me any stories about his work.
My grandfather was an amateur actor. He spent a good thirty-odd years performing in his local community theaters in Connecticut. He had the time of his life. He also loved film. After retirement, he made decent cash on the side working as a professional extra in movies. He had a list of the big name stars he'd been in the background of scenes for. But I think he loved theater best. He cried at my college graduation, and told me he was so proud and thrilled for me because I was going to make a living in the theater. My parents have always supported my choice of career; my grandfather celebrated it.
My grandfather loved to travel. Every year he chose a new country as his destination. He had a wall of framed photographs of his travels -- at least thirty or forty different countries, from Indonesia to Greece to Argentina to Kenya to the Galapagos Islands and everything in between. The only continent he never hit was Antarctica.
My grandfather died this morning, peacefully, in his sleep. He was eighty-eight years old. I should be so lucky to live half as fulfilling a life as he lead.
I love you, Grandpa. Bon voyage.
My grandfather grew up really close with his older brother and their two cousins, also brothers, all in Brooklyn. One of those two cousins grew up to take on the stage name Stubby Kaye. He originated the role of Nicely Nicely Johnson in "Guys and Dolls" on Broadway. My grandfather loved to go to Broadway shows. He idolized his cousin for making it big.
My grandfather was nineteen when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He joined the Navy. He shouldn't have been allowed in because he was colorblind, but everyone taking the color test was shown the same series of images. His last name was Rakow. By the time the tester got to the Rs, my grandfather had memorized the correct answers by listening to the guys ahead of him. No one ever found out that the only color he could see clearly was red.
My grandfather was assigned to a boat in the South Pacific. I don't know what his job was, or what kind of ship it was exactly. I know it was a small boat that followed the aircraft carriers around. When pilots coming in to the carrier missed and landed in the ocean instead, my grandfather's ship would go pick them up. Because their boat was so small, they lacked a lot of the luxury amenities that the huge aircraft carriers had. When they picked up a pilot, they refused to give him back unless the carrier sent them tubs of ice cream in exchange. I think that sounds like a fair trade.
My grandfather met my grandmother at a party in Brooklyn after the war. She didn't think much of him at first. The first time he proposed to her, she rejected him. The second time it took. One of those proposals was on a carriage ride through Central Park. The other was at the top of the Empire State Building. My grandfather held her at the edge, looking down a hundred-odd stories, and said that if she didn't agree to marry him, he'd throw her off. I honestly can't remember if that was the one she accepted. I don't think it was. It makes for a good story, though.
My grandfather was a salesman. He never told me any stories about his work.
My grandfather was an amateur actor. He spent a good thirty-odd years performing in his local community theaters in Connecticut. He had the time of his life. He also loved film. After retirement, he made decent cash on the side working as a professional extra in movies. He had a list of the big name stars he'd been in the background of scenes for. But I think he loved theater best. He cried at my college graduation, and told me he was so proud and thrilled for me because I was going to make a living in the theater. My parents have always supported my choice of career; my grandfather celebrated it.
My grandfather loved to travel. Every year he chose a new country as his destination. He had a wall of framed photographs of his travels -- at least thirty or forty different countries, from Indonesia to Greece to Argentina to Kenya to the Galapagos Islands and everything in between. The only continent he never hit was Antarctica.
My grandfather died this morning, peacefully, in his sleep. He was eighty-eight years old. I should be so lucky to live half as fulfilling a life as he lead.
I love you, Grandpa. Bon voyage.