EILEEN ADLER

“Was I good father?” my father asked me some 22 years ago.

My father wanted to attend an Elder Hostel, now known as Roads Scholar and I eagerly agreed to go with him. By this time, my mother had died and so we invited my twin brother to join us – I was looking forward to a great week because I didn’t know any two funnier people and this program was all about comedy, featuring old comics from the Borscht Belt. The origin of the Borscht Belt, aka Jewish Alps, found its name in the Russian/Ukrainian word for soup, borscht brought to this country mostly by the Ashkenazi Jewish and Slavic immigrants. The list of comedians who cut their teeth in the Borscht Belt is very long; their jokes today might seem politically incorrect.

We made reservations at the Nevele Resort. The name has an interesting back story, but it may be family lore. Nevele is eleven spelled backwards to honor the founder, Charles Slutsky’s eleven children!

The Catskills was where Jews from New York City vacationed, escaping the summer heat and humidity, and may have become a refuge for Jewish immigrants who survived the Holocaust, finding a place called “home.” At the height of its popularity in the 1980s, the Nevele Resort had over four hundred rooms and eight hundred employees. With the advent of air conditioning and easier plane travel, New Yorkers stopped vacationing there and through a series of different owners, the resort closed without notice in 2009. Almost all the big, glorious hotels are closed.

We arrived at the hotel via my brother’s car and were shown to our rooms. Within a day or so, my brother said he couldn’t stay and abruptly left. He was our transportation to and from the resort; other plans would be made.

Dad and I continued with the program but always looming was my brother’s rash decision to leave. Sitting at the table after lunch near the end of our vacation, my father asked me that question, “Was I a good father?”

The relationship between my father and brother had been tense; he may have thought that this would be an effective way to recapture the good days, to reconnect. All for naught.

Images of my child and adult selves flashed before my eyes; I was caught off guard, taking a few thoughtful moments to answer. I truthfully told Dad that he was a great father, but he was no longer our daddy. He gave us all he had, and we all turned out well. I thanked him for all he provided for me, insisting that I continue my education after high school, and I am forever indebted to his foresight, wisdom, and guidance. With tears in his eyes, he told me how proud he was of me and my sister and brother; "I couldn’t have asked for more," he added.

His kind words continue to echo in my mind – to receive such validation from a parent is life-changing— it was a cherished moment, a profound outpouring of love. 

This conversation took place when Dad was 95 years old. We were making plans for a three-peat as we had attended the same program the summer before, but it didn’t come to pass. This was the last time I saw him; he died a month later.
 

Life Lesson: "I can no other answer make, but thanks, and thanks." - William Shakespeare.   
This inspiration comes from Ralph Marston. "Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you'll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you'll find that you have more of it."


P.S. In August 1969, the Catskills were the site of the music and art festival now known
as Woodstock, entertaining close to half a million concertgoers!