On Monday, while showing off during a workout, I fell and bruised a rib, proving the adage that “pride cometh before a fall.” It shook me up enough to delay the essay I’d planned to post.
My most embarrassing self-inflicted injury: When I was in third grade, circa 1972, I was watching TV on one of those old sets where changing the channel meant turning a dial on the set itself. I was lying down and decided I would try to turn the dial with my toes. In trying to do so, I brought the TV set crashing down on my foot, and opening a gash on my big toe. After telling me to get off the carpet––the blood was flowing–– my mother correctly decided that I needed to go to Lenox Hill hospital to get my toe stitched. My means of transport: being stuffed into the baby carriage belonging to my younger brother and wheeled like an infant. The stitches are still apparent, a memento of my laziness and clumsiness.
And your creativity which does not always work out for the best. My father once decided to throw a couple of cans of baked beans into the campfire because he thought, "Why get a pot dirty?" One of the cans exploded and he ended up with bean-sized burns.
Oh, thank you for reposting. How heartbreaking for Alfred. Unfortunately family rifts are so common when certain family members pass away. I’ve seen it happen myself when the peace makers and reunion organizers of a family die. Things are never the same. And worse, suppressed negativity can flourish and ruin people’s lives.
Thanks for posting a revised one which I, along with others, had not seen. The phrase that jumped off the page for me is this: "It comes near to breaking my heart" and I sat with that for a few minutes.
One of the things that makes you, and what you write, speak to me is your heart-felt expressions of love and concern, especially for your families. I use the plural as there are generations you describe in such good detail. The other part is the "breaking" because that the breaks are where the light shines in. It's also a good reminder of kintsugi. Thank you again, for sharing and for caring as you do.
Where do I start? Pouring molten lemon pudding down my legs- my father dubbed it napalm. Breaking my arm trying out an escape route after an ice storm, breaking my hand going over a taxi door in NYC on my bike…My mother made a family lawyer our executor. Best decision ever!
Given your grandfather’s reserved nature, I’m not surprised that he didn’t share this painful story during his lifetime. After the loss of Betty, it must have been his greatest heartbreak. He trusted he would always be part of the Block family, and the business embodied the love he felt for them. I suspect that telling you the story, whoch would have perplexed you and sparked many questions, was a prospect impossible to contemplate.
I would love to say this is uncommon David , yet it really isn't . I feel bad for Alfred , Yet strangely Feel worse for her family . See Alfred after she passed made it on his own , yes he hurt , but opened new business and remarried . Her family had to deal with no feelings for anyone or anything . Lack of empathy is a killer . great story David .
It really is a treasure to have old family stories that you may not have known otherwise. Now it's a gift that your grandchildren and great grandchildren etc will have this to read!
You are so lucky to have all these historical family letters. What a treasure trove they all must be. I would love to find such treasures from my own family but alas, I don’t think they exist.
David--I just celebrated the life of one of my best friends (who was considerably older than me.) Before she passed--when she was in hospice--I flew to SB and interviewed her for close to 2 hours. I wanted to do so for her adult children and grandchildren because I soooooo wish someone had done something similar for me before my mother passed. The purpose of this lead-in is to tell you that in addition to writing compelling essays, you are providing such a beautiful gift for your children. You are preserving legacy--yours and those who came before you--and what a wonderfully generous thing to do.
As for embarrassing self injuries--Not sure I'm ready to share--took too many years of therapy to recover....😁
I have a different perspective. Having gone through this family rift while my mom is still alive, I feel that asking your adult kids to get along in a letter delivered years after the damage is done and you're no longer around to deal with the pain of their disagreements is an easy way to let yourself off the hook for neither doing some difficult parenting nor passing on your wisdom or wishes while you have life to argue for or enforce them. If your grandfather really wanted his sons and Alfred to get along, he would have been better off sitting them down for a solemn talk about losing a foundational support of your life when you cut a family member out of it. Betty's death might have even lent some weight for her sons if Alfred had spoken his thoughts immediately instead of writing them down for a time when the loss of their mom had long passed and they could ignore their father's wishes. If right now everyone sat their kids, young or old, down and had that talk, there might be fewer family schisms by the time we're in the grave.
I'm not sure if my great grandfather Alexander was well enough to have had that conversation since he died only a few months after Betty. But if he had made it clear that he expected them to all continue as a family, that might have made a difference.
I think his biggest mistake was making Alfred the object of his favoritism.
And I agree that doing anything we can to prevent and pre-empt schisms like this is crucial.
Thanks for reposting David, I missed this the first time. I enjoy reading family history and getting a glimpse into the humanity behind the family saga, for good or for bad.
Goodness what a great article. My heart breaks for Alfred and your father who lost his then best friend in his cousin. Sigh...I could write reams on family betrayal but no point in rehashing old wounds. I was lucky to have loving parents. As for self-inflicted wounds, again too many to tell. But my first one is still with me. I was 2, playing on our front porch. fell off the porch into a bush. Got sticks shoved into my eye and the skin around it. Rushed to Children's hospital emergency room. The Indian doctor cleaned out my eye and pronounced me cured. 2 weeks later I was rushed in again with a raging infection under my eye. He had missed a piece of a branch. The same Doctor proudly announced that the surgery would not leave a scar. 69 yrs later when I am tired it looks like I got punched in the eye!
My most embarrassing self-inflicted injury: When I was in third grade, circa 1972, I was watching TV on one of those old sets where changing the channel meant turning a dial on the set itself. I was lying down and decided I would try to turn the dial with my toes. In trying to do so, I brought the TV set crashing down on my foot, and opening a gash on my big toe. After telling me to get off the carpet––the blood was flowing–– my mother correctly decided that I needed to go to Lenox Hill hospital to get my toe stitched. My means of transport: being stuffed into the baby carriage belonging to my younger brother and wheeled like an infant. The stitches are still apparent, a memento of my laziness and clumsiness.
And your creativity which does not always work out for the best. My father once decided to throw a couple of cans of baked beans into the campfire because he thought, "Why get a pot dirty?" One of the cans exploded and he ended up with bean-sized burns.
That's very funny.
Oh my! Which was worse the toe pain or the baby carriage humiliation?
My apologies for just laughing out loud.
Oh, thank you for reposting. How heartbreaking for Alfred. Unfortunately family rifts are so common when certain family members pass away. I’ve seen it happen myself when the peace makers and reunion organizers of a family die. Things are never the same. And worse, suppressed negativity can flourish and ruin people’s lives.
Thanks for posting a revised one which I, along with others, had not seen. The phrase that jumped off the page for me is this: "It comes near to breaking my heart" and I sat with that for a few minutes.
One of the things that makes you, and what you write, speak to me is your heart-felt expressions of love and concern, especially for your families. I use the plural as there are generations you describe in such good detail. The other part is the "breaking" because that the breaks are where the light shines in. It's also a good reminder of kintsugi. Thank you again, for sharing and for caring as you do.
You taught me a new word, kintsugi. Thanks, Gary.
Where do I start? Pouring molten lemon pudding down my legs- my father dubbed it napalm. Breaking my arm trying out an escape route after an ice storm, breaking my hand going over a taxi door in NYC on my bike…My mother made a family lawyer our executor. Best decision ever!
The pudding sounds painful!
Given your grandfather’s reserved nature, I’m not surprised that he didn’t share this painful story during his lifetime. After the loss of Betty, it must have been his greatest heartbreak. He trusted he would always be part of the Block family, and the business embodied the love he felt for them. I suspect that telling you the story, whoch would have perplexed you and sparked many questions, was a prospect impossible to contemplate.
I would love to say this is uncommon David , yet it really isn't . I feel bad for Alfred , Yet strangely Feel worse for her family . See Alfred after she passed made it on his own , yes he hurt , but opened new business and remarried . Her family had to deal with no feelings for anyone or anything . Lack of empathy is a killer . great story David .
Thanks for re-posting, I had not read this before. Very nice.
And then come the scavengers and carrion eaters who immediately sense the weak places in a broken family stronghold.
True.
It really is a treasure to have old family stories that you may not have known otherwise. Now it's a gift that your grandchildren and great grandchildren etc will have this to read!
You are so lucky to have all these historical family letters. What a treasure trove they all must be. I would love to find such treasures from my own family but alas, I don’t think they exist.
David--I just celebrated the life of one of my best friends (who was considerably older than me.) Before she passed--when she was in hospice--I flew to SB and interviewed her for close to 2 hours. I wanted to do so for her adult children and grandchildren because I soooooo wish someone had done something similar for me before my mother passed. The purpose of this lead-in is to tell you that in addition to writing compelling essays, you are providing such a beautiful gift for your children. You are preserving legacy--yours and those who came before you--and what a wonderfully generous thing to do.
As for embarrassing self injuries--Not sure I'm ready to share--took too many years of therapy to recover....😁
Thanks Diana very much.
I have a different perspective. Having gone through this family rift while my mom is still alive, I feel that asking your adult kids to get along in a letter delivered years after the damage is done and you're no longer around to deal with the pain of their disagreements is an easy way to let yourself off the hook for neither doing some difficult parenting nor passing on your wisdom or wishes while you have life to argue for or enforce them. If your grandfather really wanted his sons and Alfred to get along, he would have been better off sitting them down for a solemn talk about losing a foundational support of your life when you cut a family member out of it. Betty's death might have even lent some weight for her sons if Alfred had spoken his thoughts immediately instead of writing them down for a time when the loss of their mom had long passed and they could ignore their father's wishes. If right now everyone sat their kids, young or old, down and had that talk, there might be fewer family schisms by the time we're in the grave.
Thanks, Joy, for the comment.
I'm not sure if my great grandfather Alexander was well enough to have had that conversation since he died only a few months after Betty. But if he had made it clear that he expected them to all continue as a family, that might have made a difference.
I think his biggest mistake was making Alfred the object of his favoritism.
And I agree that doing anything we can to prevent and pre-empt schisms like this is crucial.
I’m so sorry to hear of your injury - thank you for resharing this post - I hadn’t read it before and I’m so glad to have read it now
Family conflicts are so pointless. All we can do is learn what not to do and teach our children to do better.
Thanks for reposting David, I missed this the first time. I enjoy reading family history and getting a glimpse into the humanity behind the family saga, for good or for bad.
Goodness what a great article. My heart breaks for Alfred and your father who lost his then best friend in his cousin. Sigh...I could write reams on family betrayal but no point in rehashing old wounds. I was lucky to have loving parents. As for self-inflicted wounds, again too many to tell. But my first one is still with me. I was 2, playing on our front porch. fell off the porch into a bush. Got sticks shoved into my eye and the skin around it. Rushed to Children's hospital emergency room. The Indian doctor cleaned out my eye and pronounced me cured. 2 weeks later I was rushed in again with a raging infection under my eye. He had missed a piece of a branch. The same Doctor proudly announced that the surgery would not leave a scar. 69 yrs later when I am tired it looks like I got punched in the eye!