I started out with a digression. Back to my parents.

While we were cleaning out my parents house and sorting the garage sale items from the true collectables, my mother went to live in Piermont with my brothers family.

A piece of wisdom: My parents will was a bit on the vague side. Never count upon the agreeable relationship between your children to settle inheritance amicably. Their spouses and their children will also be in the mix. The stress I encountered with my wife concerning allotment of assets caused unbearable stress and residual resentment for years after. I told my wife on numerous occasions that I want everything specified in detail. If the kids and their spouses are angry over who got what–let them be mad at their parents–we’ll be dead anyway. Let the living have peace.

An old aquaintance of my mothers came to the yard sale and started crying hysterically. I was called from the other side of the house and the woman could hardly speak. When she finally asked when my mother died–and I told her my mom was living at my brothers house in her own appartment with a large TV, goutmet cooking by my sister-in-law and everything she could want, the old lady was relieved and everyone around her laughed compassionately.

At my sons 1st communion I would not speak to her and even though my wife, who had a bad history with my family of origin and with my mother specifically, insisted that my mother had a place at the party afterword, in front of my mom I insisted NO. I said this to MJ, not even addressing my mom who was right there. This was due to family fighting and the extreme feelings of betrayal which can be involved. All due to allotment of assets. You see, the issue is not merely the money, the art or the house. It is the feeling of loyalty.

I was cold to the hurt in her eyes as she was driven away by my sister-in-law. My mother asked if she could at least give Michael the present she had for him. I walked away but said yes. My in-laws were ok at the party.

My mother and I talked a few times over the phone during the next year about the house. We argued much and each call was from her to me. At one point MJ (my wife) took the children to visit my mother after she had not seen them for over 6 months, though they lived 15 minutes away and formerly she had been their favorite and they regularly spent a few days per week together. I knew MJ’s anger towards the Matelwki’s and, predictably, scooped the kids up and walked away from my mother in my brothers driveway. My mother stood there baffled as my sister-in-law came to comfort her. I told MJ that it was better to keep distance than to rish another blow-up.

In August, 1999, after I arived home to start a 2 week vacation, I received a call that Ma died of a heart attack in Nyack hospital. The last time I was in her presence was when I refused to let her attend Michaels first communion party.

In retrospect, we capped off 45 years of closeness and love, with anger and betrayal of everything which should be present between mother and child.

A large part of my anger was due to spousal pressure. Mj was only interested in what would be there for OUR kids.

The more there is to divide in inheritance, the greater the need to specify everything. Not only your children will be involved.

Also..there is a danger that everything your children THINK is true and good about their relationship with their parents, could end up seeming to be a lie. At least doubt could be placed.

I think I will wait a while before any more messages.

Be well;
A

He was definitely old-world Polish. When after his first operation predictably failed, we sat in the doctors office in Sloan Kettering and heard the news. The doctor said that there would be one more round of chemo and that we should expect it will not be successfull. I asked what options we will have after that. Dad just looked at me, no fear, no anger,just patience. “Then, Ambrowse, I’m going to die.” He then said that if he had to go this was a pretty easy way. He would feel no pain. He still had a good year with us. It gave me time to take care of outstanding issues between us–and to leave some anger in tact–I’m human.
I will always remember that strength. My brother Richard seems to have a heavy dose of it as well.

By the way, another Polish trait is respect for unembellished facts. My father appreciated the honest and candid way the doctor told him the news. In that way I resemble dad. When we were called to the hospital for his passing, we were all there as his breaths became more rare and shallow. When the nurse came in and told us he had passed she asked if one of us would like to put the sheet over his head. No one else could. I volunteered and what I said was appropriate to him. “It’s the end of an era.”

He was a man of very well defined values, unsentimental (he would help you but not tolerate self-pity), encouraged us to be involved in as many activities/hobbies as we could possibly stuff into our lives and we were told to STUDYSTUDYSTUDY!!. He also was an avid reader (as are my brother and I) and by the time he died, this high school graduate was wealthy, knew doctors and lawyers from his various interests ($$$$watch collection and rugs, jewelry etc) and I doubt any one of them suspected his humble beginings.

Gotta go–will finish later—tell me about the Wolfs–I’m nuts about Haverstraw history. It’s all composed of profound little lives.

I was born at Nyack Hospital and lived my entire life in Haverstraw until I got married in 1989. I would still live there today but my wife refused. When my father died in 1995 and the family busines (Matt’s Tires and Sporting Goods) went to my brother, the old house on Westside avenue went to me. I truly wanted to sell our townhouse and renovate the old place. I spent many weekends there over the course of a year fixing the place and unloading 3 weekends of garage sales worth of stuff. He had some real money after 50 years in business and I had a major job sorting the cut glass, Audimar Piguet watches from the clutter and less expensive carnival glass. I got to know the neighbors and discovered a town which was on the rise again. The ethnically diverse area outside the business district was rebuilt by hard working and decent people. My kids made friends up the block and it reminded me of my own childhood. The business district almost made it out of depression.

There was a sense of belonging there which I do not get living in a sidewalkless neighborhood of pristene lawns where there are never kids playing on swings and you cannot just walk to a localle where everything and everyone is available. To sum it up (which is something I find difficult); I miss those old cldgers who used to pass Summer afternoons on the benches at the Bank corners.
There’d always be some old guy yell out “Hey! There’s Dick Buttler’s grandson. Hows the old man?”

Hope my longwindedness is not a bother.

AM

All this time on memory lane has given me the yen to go to Christmass Eve mass at St. Peters. I went there alone last year (wife and kids too tired to go) for my first mass there in maybe 25 or 30 years. Sat in the balcony–much more beautifull than a modern type of church. I hope they NEVER decide to rebuild it. Last yer and for a while before, the massive pipe organ was undergoing major repairs. Hope it’s working by now.

Happy Christmas-or Chanucah or whatever your named holiday is. This is better than giving an androgenous “Seasons Greetings”.

AM