I read Gabe Kahn’s “Here’s to you, Mr. Rosenson” (Jan. 26) with great pleasure and it reminded me of stories my father told me.
I am an 88-year-old resident of Concordia, a senior community in Monroe Township.
My father, one of nine siblings, came to America with his mother in 1902 with her five children (he was 2 at the time); his father, my grandfather, came to the United States years earlier. Four siblings were born here.
Several years before he passed away at 90, my dad told me the story of his mother leaving their village in Eastern Europe with five children on a donkey-driven cart with her father hanging onto the cart and running with them as far and as long as he could knowing he would never see his daughter and grandchildren again.
What pain, what courage, what sacrifice, almost unimaginable nowadays. Whenever I relate that story to my family I literally start to cry.
My dad told me stories of growing up in the Lower East Side. He was a wonderful man, successful in business, generous to family, his synagogue, and friends, and I had a great mother and sister.
Thank you for the remembrances.