An old friend, who now lives in Northern California, wrote me a lovely email full of memories about my dad.
I have been
thinking about our childhood together and your Dad today. In
particular, remembering sometimes when I would come to dinner, and how
funny, and warm, and yet awe-inspiring your Dad was at the same time.
Perched on the moderne black dining room chairs with the cold leather
and the wind whistling outside from the Drive, the Fiesta china, and
your Dad's understated and really keen questions, observations,
hilarious jokes, until he had had enough, and his attention went on to
other things. At those dinners, I felt really intimidated and yet
excited at the same time.
thinking about our childhood together and your Dad today. In
particular, remembering sometimes when I would come to dinner, and how
funny, and warm, and yet awe-inspiring your Dad was at the same time.
Perched on the moderne black dining room chairs with the cold leather
and the wind whistling outside from the Drive, the Fiesta china, and
your Dad's understated and really keen questions, observations,
hilarious jokes, until he had had enough, and his attention went on to
other things. At those dinners, I felt really intimidated and yet
excited at the same time.
Gosh, and then many
memories of your apartment in the 1960's start to wash in, from the
texture of the carpet in the entrance hall, rough under the feet, and
the piano, that takes me to the bright sound of the Thelonious Monk
improvising on through the wall… oh too much to put in email. And
memories of you guys — though, I have those at least three or four
times a month, thanks to a Nika Hazelton cookbook of American food you
once gave me that is my Bible for good American home cooking- my
younger boy makes a mean chocolate cake from it…
memories of your apartment in the 1960's start to wash in, from the
texture of the carpet in the entrance hall, rough under the feet, and
the piano, that takes me to the bright sound of the Thelonious Monk
improvising on through the wall… oh too much to put in email. And
memories of you guys — though, I have those at least three or four
times a month, thanks to a Nika Hazelton cookbook of American food you
once gave me that is my Bible for good American home cooking- my
younger boy makes a mean chocolate cake from it…
A touching letter.
The name Thelonious Monk initially attracted me to the article, but the tribute to your dad is the obvious ‘moving’ aspect of the letter. You must be proud.