This is maybe an easy prompt for most to answer. However, I am always humbled by the outpouring of affection and generosity towards me. I was always someone who preferred to pitch in where needed, help those in need, and give quietly, often behind the scenes. In a Parochial school, this was known as the Corporal Works of Mercy and reinforced at home.
It reminds me of the stories I was told when I was two years old and my father had a stroke while driving the El for PTC (Philadelphia Transit Co.), where he worked. During that difficult time, many family members, friends, and neighbors came to our aid. I have written about this before, but here’s the summary: My mother was two months pregnant in February 1958 when my father had his stroke. He didn’t return home from the hospital until late September, after my little sister was born. It took another eight months before my dad could manage the household and help my mother secure a job at the PTC. My older siblings were a tremendous support, but they were still too young to fully take on the responsibilities—my oldest sister was only in the seventh grade. As a result, we learned to grow up a little faster than most kids.
My aunt would move in with us to help out. Other family members from both sides would contribute $5 a month, in addition to my father’s disability pension, to help cover the bills. Many of our neighbors were very kind to us, but one person stood out in particular. Around the corner on 59th Street was a Jewish delicatessen named Oscar Levine. He had a heart of gold when Mom or my older siblings went with a list of needed goods. The list would include items such as milk, bread, sugar, eggs, lunch meat, or peanut butter and jelly for school lunches. He would run a tab at his own expense.
Oscar, as he was known in the neighborhood, would often put together a bag of groceries, which included items like bread, milk, and occasionally a dessert. He would first ask either my mom or my older siblings to check the list of what we needed. After that, he would fill the bag and say, “Tell your mom that the bread, cake, or milk is near their sell-by dates, so I’m giving them to her for free. I’ll put the other items on your tab until your dad is back on his feet. Just give me a couple of bucks now, and they can settle up with me when your dad is up and around.”
Point to Ponder: I recall the day I walked around the corner with my dad to settle our tab. Oscar wouldn’t accept much that day and would eventually sell the store before my prideful WWII Army sergeant dad could repay him. The moral is to be kind, as you never know who might come to your aid when the tables are turned.
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