If I Let Myself Admit It

I would recount some of the things that have made me feel satisfied, or even proud, of how the I acted and the results of those actions.

Such as: going back in time to when I was about four years old and traveling with my Mother on the streetcar going downtown. I was reading, aloud, the letters on the advertising signs to my Mother, who had taught me that the alphabet had meaning. The extreme pleasure Mom showed, when she was asked by a stranger sitting close enough to hear me, as how old I was and expressing amazement when she was told.

The satisfaction I felt in being allowed to attend kindergarten at that early age when Miss Balaban, of Cheltenham School, quizzed and agreed with my Mother that I was mature enough to start early. Of course, I had to spend two years in kindergarten, but that did not bother me because I loved going to school.

When I was attending Lake Junior High, I became an assistant to Mr. Ulmeyer, the Boy’s Advisor. Sure I was only a “gofer”, but I was allowed to roam the halls when I was “assisting” him and made up my own slips that allowed me to do this. Only the big, smart guys got this kind of a job.

My marriage to Maxine which was fated from the first time I spoke to her on the telephone. How come I was so smart? I must have done something very, very good to deserve that.

The thrill I had when I walked up to the podium at D.U. to finally get my degree, but the best part was when I heard by five-year old son call out, “That’s my daddy!”

Then, just recently, while talking to my son, and checking on my grandson, I made the honest-felt remark that he was an extremely good father. I got the remark, “Why not? I had the greatest example to follow while I was growing up.”