That Cold, Uncaring Grandfather Condemned To The Shadows
He was on his deathbed, lying motionless, a silent blanket-covered mound in the shadows. The room was semi-dark and I was alone with a grandfather I did not know in that gloom-filled dying space. I was a ten year old, alone with that man, a grandfather in name only, for whom I had no feelings and for whom my memory bank was empty.
I had two grandfathers named Max, Max Lopatin (my mother’s father) and Max Flicker (my father’s father). Max Lopatin, was the personification of family love and devotion and the other a cold, mysterious unknown, never spoken of by his four sons when he was alive or dead.
Although I was only five years old when he was killed in a train accident, Max Lopatin remains fixed in my memory. (See Two Killer Trains) I have warm, caring memories of him with me together with so many, wonderful family stories.
I remember to this day, 76 years later, the numbness I felt when I stood in that darkened room viewing a dying grandfather whose last name I bore. He was the grandfather I did not know or care about. How could that be?
We (my parents, my two younger brothers and I) lived, for a short, crowded time with Max and Becky Flicker in their apartment on Vise Avenue in the Bronx, N. Y. I was eight years old then and have no memory of that time. I do remember my mother telling me that she overheard Max telling my grandmother that he wanted to move out, without telling us, and abandon us in an apartment we could not afford.
I think it is most important for my children, grandchildren and great grandchildren to know, what little I know, who Max Flicker was and how he affected our lives. He did, indeed, affect all of our lives, without our realizing it, in the most consequential ways and will continue to do so many generations of Flickers to come. I will attempt to explain:
I feel (since I am the last one left able to do so) the only way for me to expose who he was and how he has and will continue to affect his descendants, is for me to engage his ghost.
ME I know you are there. You are still in the shadows but I can
feel your presence.
MAX (Silence)
ME Why is it that none of your four sons would ever speak of you?
MAX (Silence)
ME Your eldest son, (my father) Sidney, would tell me a story or
two as to how you treated him when he was a boy on the
farm. Who am I? It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t know
who I am. – Oh. Was there a stirring in the shadows? Do you
know my name?
MAX (Silence)
ME You probably didn’t know my name, (your first grandchild)
when you were alive. (You distracted me.) I was about to
relate my father’s story how you treated him on the farm. He
would tell me winter stories of how he would get up early on a
freezing morning and break the ice in the water bowl next to
his bed in order to wash. – Did you know that or even care?
Hmm?
MAX (Silence)
ME Many years later he would find humor in the fact that he had
to wash in ice water before his farm jobs, early each morning
before heading off to school. It wasn’t humorous then when he
had his farm chores and then had to drive you to the train
station for your commute to New York City. – What were you
doing in New York City? Hmm?
MAX (Silence)
ME Before I get to your activities in New York City, let me ask you
about your other three, younger sons, Howard, Irving and
Shanley. How do you feel—What a silly question. I get the
sense that you hid whatever feelings you had when you were
alive if, indeed, you had any at all for your sons.
MAX (Silence)
ME The sense I have is that you were hardly a caring husband. My
grandmother, Becky, was alone on the farm except for her
children. (See An Egg to Remember) How would I know that?
– I was there. How can that be? you might ask—if you could.
MAX (Silence)
ME All right Max—I’ll call you Max since I don’t feel you were
much of a grandfather—it may not have been the same farm
but it could have been. How? (Did I see the shadows move?)
MAX (Silence)
ME You were hardly a demonstrative husband, father or
grandfather so why should I assume you would be curious
about my visiting the farm? My mother Rebecca who
preferred being called Rae or Ray (She spelled it both ways
—but that’s another story, not for your ghostly ears. She and
Sidney were married when they were both 19. Did you know
that? How could you not? I, was born nine months later and
visited the farm five years after that. You were not there.
Where were you? New York?
MAX (Silence)
ME Even to my young eyes, it was not much of a farm. I remember
the dim lamplight at night and the smell of the kerosene. There
was no electricity. I remember the wood-burning stove in the
kitchen but I don’t remember you being there. I am sure there
were electric lights where you were in New York City. What
were you doing there, away from your wife and family?
MAX (Silence)
ME Sidney gave me a clue. There was that time when you gave
hurried instructions to your sons. Men were coming to the
farm. Next came the frantic orders. There were many, many
rolls of artificial leather stacked in the barn. Hide them in the
cornfield before those men arrived. What was that all about
Max? – As if I couldn’t guess. Were you a crook Max? Were
those rolls of artificial leather stolen?
MAX (The shadow shook)
ME It happened long ago Max. I have no proof, so I wont call you
a crook. I will call you an austere, unloving husband, father
and grandfather with dubious streaks of honesty.
MAX (Silence)
ME Believe it or not Max, you fathered a dynasty of four caring
sons. How did that happen? I suppose the credit goes to
Becky. Caring didn’t seem to be strongly imbedded in you and
your two brothers and two sisters. There was a third brother,
Benno who did not emigrate from Romania when you did. He
stayed in Europe and married. Am I right? How did I know? My
father (Sidney) told me the story of what you and your brothers
and sisters did to Benno and his family.
MAX (The shadow stirred)
ME Do you remember the meeting at your house with all of your
brothers and sisters, except Benno, of course? That was
about 1921; just a few years after World War I. According to
my father, who was about 14 years old, the family meeting
concerned Benno, his wife and two young sons who were
living in Italy.
MAX (Silence)
ME You are probably wondering how my father knew. He was
listening at his bedroom door. He heard and remembered
everything important that was said all of which he recorded on
tape, decades later. What have you got to say about that or is
that too much to ask?
MAX (Silence)
ME I’ll remind you. Benno and his family were starving. Why they
were in Italy starving my father did not say. Nevertheless,
Benno was writing to his brothers and sisters here in America
desperate for help. You remember that Max?
MAX (Silence)
ME After much deliberation, with those for and against helping, a
compromise was reached. Do you remember that compromise
Max? Shall I remind you? -- (What was that?) My pen rolled
off my desk and on to the floor. – Was that you Max?
MAX (Silence)
ME This is what Sidney heard while listening at his bedroom door:
They (the committee of brothers and sisters, including you
Max) would write back to the starving Benno and family with a
question—One Question. His answer would determine
whether or not they would receive help. In the interim they
would continue to starve. – What’s the matter Max? If you
didn’t have guilt feelings then I doubt if you would have them
now, as a ghost in the shadows.
MAX (Silence)
ME Oh yes, the question. Sidney received the results of Benno’s
answer years later in his office in New York. Surely you
remember the question you and the others wrote back to your
starving brother and his family in Italy. Let me remind you:
“Were your two sons circumcised?”
MAX (Silence)
ME You and your brothers and sisters played the roles of the
Roman Emperors at the Games. Thumbs up for circumcision,
thumbs down for having failed to do so. And that meant no
help and money saved. You remember that Max even if you
are a ghost. If you can speak, now is the time.
MAX (Silence)
ME Somehow Benno and his family survived. How they survived
without you and your brothers and sisters aid is unknown but
none of you seemed to care. That brings me to the visit my
father, your son Sidney, received in his New York office many
years later. You were already dead and forgotten.
MAX (Silence)
ME There were two young men, brothers, with foreign accents
(probably Italian). Somehow they located my father at his
office at the F.A. Ringler Company. Their last names were
Kraft. Can you guess who they were, Max? They were your
nephews, Max; Benno’s two sons.
MAX (Silence)
ME I don’t know if it was Benno or his two sons who changed
their last names from Flicker to Kraft but the point they made
to my father was because of the way they were treated they
no longer wanted the Flicker name.
MAX (Silence)
ME It had to be Becky who managed to overcome your unloving
austerity and imbue her four sons with a sense of love and
caring. That love and caring was our most important
inheritance we the children of your four sons received. We
have guarded and nurtured that inheritance and passed it
down to our children who in turn pass it on with accrued
interest.
MAX (Silence)
ME So Max, I leave you to your cold, shadowed world knowing,
through your sons, that this FLICKER CLAN continues to grow
and prosper with love and caring.
Bob Flicker
Sidney’s and Rebecca’s son
Max and Fanny Lopatin’s grandson
Becky Flicker’s grandson
Barry, Lee, Jonathan, Joshua, and Lauren’s father
Jai, Kier, Blair, Keaton, Lenox, and Logan’s grandfather
Dotty and (known in May) great grandfather
and the beat goes on