Best Wishes, Harry Greenfield
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May 8 Dear Walter, Before you left, you made me promise to send you a letter after one week and let you know how I am. Today is a week and I'm writing for two reasons. The first is naturally I don't want you to worry. But the second reason is it was a big mistake to come here. If I stay in this nursing home for long it will kill me, I'm sure of it. This is no place for me. Over here I'm mostly with people who are living just to eat the next meal. Better I should be back in the condo in Florida even if all you can find to come in and cook for me is a Jamaican woman. So I fell down a second time, is that the end of the world? I didn't break a hip or anything and a few black and blue marks never killed anyone. If I looked where I was going, it wouldn't have happened. You could pay a woman to sleep overnight on the sofa bed in the den if you're worried I need someone there all the time. I don't have to watch TV in there, I could get another set for near my bed. And during the day she could drive me to the clubhouse for a couple hours. I'd get some sun and maybe even play cards once in a while. She could let you know how I'm doing. Believe me, I'd make it a point to get along with any woman you find. Just don't give me another Alicia who couldn't cook anything the way it should taste. I told you you have to be more careful when you interview them. That would be more a life for me Walter than what I've got here. You walk in the corridor and you see people sound asleep in a wheelchair all day long. You go for lunch or dinner and the others at the table only open their mouths to eat. No one has a word to say or maybe a story about something that happened that day. Try and take a nap and five minutes later there's a TV or radio going loud enough to wake the dead. You tell someone who you are and get an answer like, "I'm sorry but I'll be going home after the war." It's craziness Walter. So why should I have this kind of life now? The fact you already sold the car makes no difference. You could buy me a used one for at the most a thousand dollars, something easy for a woman to drive. And if none of you children can come to Pompano for a few months at a time, so we'll talk more on the telephone. Please don't answer and tell me you want the best for me. I'm your father, I know that. Evelyn and Lucille and Jay say the same thing whenever I hear from them. All of you should understand the best for me is not being here in Worcester, it's getting in a plane back to Florida. Speak to Evelyn right away and let her know how I feel. My roommate says they are very good here about giving back the deposit. His name is Sumner Klingsberg but he's no relation to the Klingsbergs we knew in Boston. You're a good son, Walter, and I know how much trouble it was for you to come all the way from California and bring me here. I'm not asking you to do it again because I think Evelyn can go back with me and find someone to live there. Please one of you let me know the plans. Love, Dad
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About the Book
Harry Greenfield realizes at last that he’ll never be leaving the nursing home in which his children have put him. Stubborn and judgmental, he reveals the passions that drive him and the turning points of his life in the letters he writes to family, friends and the world at large. What he omits, out of guilt, we learn from the conversations that take place among his four children and others who are dear to him. In time, the personal histories of other residents of the Star of Zion -- including Vilna, a man whose tragic life has frozen his face so that he will never laugh again; Irving, who dedicated his life to God when he escaped a pogrom in his youth; and George Murphy, a former Catholic priest who teaches Harry that strict religious observance means little if it drives a family apart -- push Harry to try and resolve the long-standing hostilities within his own family before he dies. As the months pass, Harry paints a moving picture of life in the home. His circumstances address our concerns about whether an elderly parent belongs in a nursing home and the quality of life to be expected there. And we see what a man in Harry’s position can do in this environment to try and make life worthwhile each day when he knows that the end of the road is near.
About the Author
Robert Weintraub’s fiction writing, which began after a career in labor relations, has featured the publication of several short stories about life in a nursing home. He lives in Newtonville, Massachusetts with his wife and their fifteen-year old tabby, Kitso (who may soon need a nursing home himself).