If we reconstruct the run-up to a meaningful encounter or life-changing event, and follow the trail of random decisions that preceded it, it would be a miracle that it ever happened at all. In my case, my very own existence depended on the direction of a weather pattern and a decision made as a result by my mom Rose while on her summer vacation in August of ’42.
Rose checked into the Hotel Nemerson, a popular Catskills resort owned and operated by her sister-in-law Ruth’s family. Promotional brochures described it as “Situated on its own lake in a beautiful natural setting. The Nemerson offers, within the privacy of an exclusive estate, a glorious vacation packed with facilities for every sport, comfort, leisure and health.”
Jewish singles from Northeast cities headed there for summer vacations in the sun and fresh air of “ the mountains,” scouting for potential mates during the organized activities. My parents were no exception.
Rose filled her suitcase with fashionable summer clothing, including a new striped Catalina bathing suit, halter dresses, culottes, and wide-legged slacks in a Katherine Hepburn style. Nearing the end of the season, it had rained everyday for a solid week, limiting the activities and dampening the spirits of the guests. My mom, a strong swimmer who glided through the water with perfect form, missed her daily laps across the lake and decided to cut her stay short.
The evening before her intended departure, the sun finally broke through the clouds and she took a walk around the property after dinner. She wanted a memento of her vacation and asked, “Does anyone here know how to take a picture?” The dark-haired young man walking across the front lawn with his Rolleiflex camera volunteered.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
My dad Julius was a serious amateur photographer, a member of the Union County Camera Club and a regular “honorable mention” winner in New York Herald Tribune photo contests.I imagine that my normally reticent dad felt confident with his camera in tow, and even more so because a beautiful young woman asked him for a special favor. At the moment my mom casually tossed out that request and he accepted, his life, and hers, changed forever.
The next day my mom awoke to clear blue skies and decided to stay over the weekend after all. Rose and Julius recognized each other from their front lawn encounter the previous evening and arranged to take a rowboat onto the lake.
The stars were aligning one by one to bring them together — and keep them together.
PHOTO NEAR THE DOCK TAKEN BY MY DAD WITH HIS ROLLEI
On August 21st (75 years ago to this day), my dad wrote a postcard to his parents, “I can’t begin to tell you what a wonderful time I’m having here!…..met a lovely girl.”
My mom and dad were so different from each other. Rose, at age twenty-six, was the gorgeous, exuberant, auburn-haired extrovert. Jules, age thirty, was the dependable, artistic, soulful bachelor, but as a young man he was totally smitten. He mustered up the courage to follow the lovely girl to the ends of the earth — it might as well have been, taking three trains from Elizabeth, New Jersey to Glen Cove, Long Island to pick her up at her parents’ house for a date.
I imagine that my dad’s mind raced with anticipation on the way to Glen Cove, then savored sweet memories on the Sunday night train back to Elizabeth and again in the cold light of Monday morning, on the job as an apprentice machinist.
On occasion they met in New York City, attending a performance of Swan Lake (their first date) or out to dinner at a formal night spot. Flowers, chocolate, and love notes 💞 played a big part in their courtship — as well as in their marriage.
JACK DEMPSEY’S BROADWAY BAR AND COCKTAIL LOUNGE (1942)
It’s a romantic tale that happens to be true, as depicted through their feverish correspondence over the course of ten monthsof courtship. My dad wrote in a deliberate, ornate, vertical hand. He edited carefully with his Parker fountain pen, sending my mom letters with the cross-outs intact. My mom wrote in a graceful, slanted Palmer Method script, moving forward on the page with speed, confidence — and no corrections.
I have the original Florsheim shoebox packed with their love letters, my family’s treasure. Our daughter Julianne paid loving tribute to her grandparents’ story by writing an epic poem based on their correspondence.
My parents married under the grape arbor in her parents’ backyard on the sweltering hot afternoon of July 11, 1943. Her brother, my Uncle Nathan, recorded the entire ceremony and reception in 8mm Kodacolor movie film.
When my father lifts up the veil to kiss his radiant bride under the wedding canopy, my heart skips a full beat. They honeymooned in Havana. I was born the next summer, my brother Stuart in 1947.
If the sun hadn’t come out on the evening of August 20, 1942, I would not be writing this love story for the ages. Surely, it was meant to be.
As my son Mordechai says, Baruch Hashem! (thanks to God).
MY FATHER’S FAMILY
❤ For the story of Rose’s new relationship — when in her seventies and still a beauty — see my companion piece Fateful Encounters
Very touching and evocative story of a way of life and sensibilities that are rarely seen now. You have a real talent for writing.
Thanks Chuck for your appreciation of my parents’ story, I remember them with love.
My heart skipped a beat reading your beautiful story. You have a knack of inserting the reader into the event. Incidentally, you look like your beautiful mother as Julianne looks like you!
Three generations of writers too! My mom was the chronicler of all extended family events which she called Rosie-grams.
Wonderful family history, Barrie. Your posts sing.
Thank you Josh for your kind words. Hope to see you at BCOA sometime soon.
You are most welcome, Barrie. Are you still leading writing workshops and, if so, when? I would be interested in attending and sharing my experiences and perspectives. Also, have you composed reflections on your recent SW travel? Best, Josh.
Hi Josh, I’ll email you directly with workshop information. Appreciate your interest!
Thank you, Barrie – Most of my writing these days is electronic messages, and some written letters. There is also a large repository of diaries and journals which I have thought to edit and encapsulate, 10 years of articles for Bicycling magazine, and selected correspondence on significant life experiences. I had thought that my retirement 2+ years ago would allow greater focus on revisiting prior writing, but that has not proven to be the case. Perhaps your sessions might prove catalytic. Josh
Absolutely engaging. Thank you for writing this and letting me take a walk through history with you. I have fond memories of my Grandma Rose and Grandpa Julius and always loved hearing about their romance. The story never gets old. In fact, you bring it to life once again in a touching tribute. Love you Auntie and thank you. Much love, your niece, Jill
Thank you dear Jill. You have an amazing heritage. And you are making your grandparents proud to this day.
Your beauty is everywhere!
Thank you Betsy!
What a lovely piece!. And combined with everything that was against your parents’ meeting, add the odds that just that one of the millions of sperm and that one of thousands of eggs met so fortuitously on just the right date to create the person who would grow up to be the wonderful person to tell this story!
Thank you Davida, yes that’s true, hence the intentional use of the word Chance in the title!
You told their romantic story in a lovely way. I wish I knew more about the story of my parents’ courtship. All I know is that they met while vacationing in Florida, probably Miami, when my father was taking a picture of the sunset on the beach and my mother stopped to talk to him. So both our fathers were photographers and had an artistic side which came out in their work.
I enjoyed your account even though I basically know the story.
Yes, our dads had interests and traits in common, a nice way to think of them.
Your piece read like a mystery novel and I could not wait to hear each detail and how it fit into the story of your parents love story.
Thank you Carol, I never thought if it in that perspective, will re-read it in that light.
My cousin Bob Zausmer sent this followup story about the Nemerson stomping ground:
“I had no idea your parents met at the Nemerson Hotel. Mine did as well. My dad (Rose’s brother) had just been discharged from the Army (in February 1946) and my mom went up as a (Hunter) college graduation present from her parents. My mom was pre-med, but after she and my Dad met, they got married (in November 1946) and then I came along (in March 1948). As my dad often said, “The rest is history.” The medical profession’s loss was the education profession’s gain.”
My Uncle Morris was 33; my Aunt Francine was 21.
An enchanting story indeed!
I enjoyed reading it.
And as someone said, you look so much like your Mother.
Thank you for sharing.
Barrie, I can’t begin to tell you how much I love your writings. This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing your talent and your wonderful stories with us❤
It’s nice to hear from you Tammie, thank you for your kind words. Hope all is going very well in your salon and your life!
I love a love story and I am a sucker for happy endings. Some consider them trite, but in my romantic world, they are beautiful. Aren’t reciprocal love and ascending the mountain true blessings? My parents had a love story and now having read your Weather Report, I might add it to my list of future essays. But for now, I am simply uplifted by starting my day having read your essay. I agree fully with Mordechai, Baruch Hashem.
Thank you Carl, your note has made my day! Good Shabbos…
What a beautiful love story! Thank heaven Rose stayed for the weekend. Lovely piece of writing, too. Thanks, Barrie.
Thanks Sue for reading my work – I value your opinion. Yes, Rose’s decision changed the course of history (in my family, that is).