I’ve spent the last few weeks going through Dad’s papers. Wow! For a guy who seemed pretty organized, he sure preferred to pile rather than file. Apparently round-filing wasn’t his thing either. I’ve found printed itineraries from 2009 and nutrition articles by Andrew Weil stacked next to Merrill Lynch statements. But I’ve also stumbled across some gems.
For years, Dad tried to obtain proof of the time he spent in the Army to no avail. Apparently a records building had burned down, and with it any evidence of Dad’s service. Yet in one of the piles, this particular one hidden in the office closet where he stored his wine, I found a certificate from Fort Bliss, Texas where he served awarding the American Spirit Honor Medal to Ira [his official first name] L. Gross for the “display of outstanding qualities of leadership.” Proof enough, I’d say.
In the kitchen pile, the very first stack of papers I managed to get through, I discovered a manila envelope containing letters Dad had written to his close friend and former Columbia School of Journalism roommate when he and my mother left the U.S. in 1954 to spend a year in Europe. When people mourn the lost art of letter writing, this is what they’re talking about. I read about Mom and Dad’s adventures, which included returning to their Paris hotel at 4:30 a.m. after a night of good food and better wine, and getting winked at by the local gendarme. I read about the successes and failures of magazine freelancing (not much has changed). I read that Mom and Dad called me Truffles before I was born, and that Dad, at least, thought I was a boy. I even read about my brother’s anticipated birth. The note concluded with a simple: October 7 [it turns out that, like me, Jeff was a week late.] Planned.
I loved the Billy Crystal quote that Dad typed in large, strong, bold letters in the middle of a white sheet of typing paper:
“Be strong, be patient, keep dreaming—and laugh about it.”
Finally, I found a paper titled The Pledge. I’ll write about that next. For now I’ll just say that I don’t have many regrets when it comes to Dad. I do wish, however, that I’d known about all these piles of papers and that I’d helped file them sooner. I would have so loved to share what I found with him.
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