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NARRATOR: The following chapter was derived from one tape that was sent to Paul from Max during the summer of 1969. Jennie died March, 1969 and Max stayed in New York until the summer, and then went back to Florida.

MAX: (singing) Adon olom, asher molach, b'terem Kol, y'tseer niv'ro...

NARRATOR: (A friend of Max's sings a cantorial.)

MAX: Hello, hello, hello. I couldn't resist my amateur feelings to sing to you something that it was new. As you know the synagogue has vacation. And before we went for vacation they introduced a new adonolom. I don't know how many there are, maybe six, or seven. Maybe a whole dozen different melodies. This is the latest. And I liked it. So you'll have to listen to it, if you like it or not. The second artist is a man that used to be a chazzan. Now he's Marlen Gardens resident. And he is a lucky man that I told you about that his wife was sick like mama. And her fortune, or misfortune, she was operated, and she's still around here. She didn't get better and she don't get worse. So, by the way the man is a rich man, and he has a maid steady for her, and he's what you call all right. So here you have the story of me and my pal.

NARRATOR: Although my repertoire of Hebrew 40 songs is sorely lacking, the song that Max sang to Paul at the beginning of this tape sent shivers of recognition throughout my body. It is a rousing tune, one of a dozen standards that are sung in Friday night services. On the night of my bas-mitzvah, just one year after Jennie died, I led the congregation in this song. The melodic voices of Max and his sons, all good singers, rose above even the voice of the Cantor. They sang with their hearts then, as they still do during Passover celebrations.

NARRATOR: It is fitting that Max, alone now and back in the apartment he had shared with Jennie for almost four years, should open this tape with such a song. His voice, although somewhat shaky, was sure of the tune and faithful to the words. In some ways, music was as much a positive factor to Max's survival as his children's presence. It both energized and calmed him, made him at once somber and joyful. Although Max jokes about his singing to Paul, it was as crucial for him to sing as it was to talk.

MAX: Now about your house, I don't have to tell you that I live everything through with you, your aspirations, and your, whatever you like, I like it too. Of course how can you not like it, to fix up everything according your dreams, and your aspirations. I'm with you a hundred percent, of course. About the instance you're giving me that you're fixing it up on my assumptions that I told you a word or two, I don't deny it, I told you that and I was, I think, right.

NARRATOR: Inherent in Max's return to a normal life after Jennie's death was the reestablishment of his role as a father. He always had to know everything about everyone, and would "offer" his advice whether or not it was desired. His children's various financial situations were always a prime concern. He was constantly on the lookout for personal problems between spouses, grandchildren, even friends of the family. While in the past, when Jennie was still alive, Max had the habit of haranguing Paul about his future plans, he now became more circumspect. Perhaps he was recognizing that his children's lives –as well as his own– must continue, and that they be assured of his support.

MAX: Now let's go again to our business. I'm here eight weeks. Or a little bit over. I think I passed the initial tests. I took everything in stride, and I think I done good. But this is the limit where we gotta change, otherwise it wouldn't be good. The idea of going to the mountains is a great idea, but not for me. First of all I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. Too much strange people. I have to get new clothes, eat the three meals a day – in excess, I'll be like a barrel. Cause I like food, you know, when I see food I can't resist. Although I did not give up the idea to get in a few weeks in the mountains later on. So what else can we do.

NARRATOR: A romantic about most things, Max employed his realist side to get through the trauma of Jennie's death. How much more alone can a man be when he loses the woman to whom he devoted his life? After living with his family during the seven months of Jennie's hospitalization, he was now back in the environment he had shared with her. He was living in the same apartment with the same neighbors, all in the same phase of their lives. Max made this initial adjustment superbly, but he was not yet ready to re-enter the active world. His emphasis on the fact that he would gain weight in the Catskills is misplaced. In reality his reluctance was due to an unwillingness to meet new people; to once again be his "social" self.

MAX: So along came my pal. His name is Harry Marsh. Now I introduce you to him. He's a fella that I worked with him like with Barney. He lives in Miami Beach. He has a condominium apartment. And his wife died just one day before mom did. It so happens, a coincidence. So actually it's about four

months, and he's got the same trouble as I have. Only, he's younger. He's sixty-seven, sixty-eight, a handsome man, and doesn't wanna get married. One day he doesn't wanna get married, the other day he does wanna get married. So one woman got hold of him, and he doesn't know how to get out of it. How to get out of her. So I gave him an idea, that I and him should go into a hotel for a few months, or for a month, we could stay there. And I think I told you about, there is a hotel that is sponsored by the International Ladies Garment Workers Union and it costs cheap. You understand I suppose, that it's not a high class hotel. It's not like the Shanks paramount. Or the Delano. It's a hotel for elderly people retired, and being that I don't wanna get a big belly, so the food would be sufficient for me. It's near the ocean, you could bathe, you could have a pool, the pool is salted.

NARRATOR: It's fascinating how when one grows old, a natural impulse after a spouse dies is to get married again – in some cases, as soon as possible. Young people who have their entire lives in front of them may take their time, and rightfully so, in choosing a mate. But when one lives in a community where everyone lives with the nearness of death, it's no wonder remarriage is so quickly sought after.

Max was not as ready as his friend to marry again. He was, however, eager to get away from Marlen Gardens– if not all the way to New York, then at least to an oceanside resort. The money aspect was an important factor as well. In this fashion Max began to ease back into a

IMAGE: On a cruise to the Caribbean 1970

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productive routine, in a slow attempt to re-establish his presence.

MAX: We were supposed to go in Thursday, tomorrow. But we are putting it off from day to day – there is always something that I cannot leave the house. The Frigidaire has to be fixed, I had to wait for the man, the exterminator had to come. But eventually, this weekend we'll decide. Either we'll go in, or I change my plans. I really like that, if I could exist for the future, if I would have to go into a place like that. And here, there's not much to lose, it's not far from here, I take the bus, two buses. I come there, I can stay a week, I could come home, I could stay two weeks, or three weeks, as much as I want.

IMAGE: untitled Jenny? In wheelchair at left, Max at right

NARRATOR: Acknowledging the fact that he was procrastinating, Max assured Paul that sooner or later a decision regarding his plans would be reached. What concerned him most was a fear that this hotel would not be good for him, or that he wouldn't fit with the others. He was really trying to understand and accept the freedom he had to do whatever he wanted – and to accept the responsibility for those decisions. It was also a time when he was restoring his independence and proving to himself and to his family that he could take care of himself.

IMAGE: untitled, Max? One hand on a white chair

MAX: But his mind is not set just as my mind is not set. Every day I got different plans. And this is the situation, undecided people. Incidentally this man had about three heart attacks over the last few years, little heart attacks. And he has to watch out, whatever he does he has to watch out. And I'm telling him, that he changes his mind, and I change my mind. To tell you that I am wholeheartedly for it would be not fair, something is missing in my life, and you all know that and I don't know if anybody could help me. Everything reminds me... and I see what's going on around, and I make peace with whatever it is. But I can't find no resolution, I said I cannot see the near future, how it's gonna take shape.

NARRATOR: During the course of Jennie's sickness Max was witness to the gradual disintegration of her corporeal and mental being; at her death she was as unrecognizable to her family as they were to her. Once Max returned to Florida, now physically separated from his family, he was finally freed to think about her as she once was, and perhaps to truly become aware of the gap in his life.

MAX: So this is the situation, and I painted you a good picture about this fella Harry Marsh, but I'm sure that you and anybody else can paint a nice picture about me too! I'm not better than him. I also change my mind, my plans everyday – two times, three times – even to decide what to eat for lunch or for supper I can change my mind three times in one half an hour. So this is I suppose a sign of old age, and the old people-we people ask for old age, we gotta take it and like it!

IMAGE:  untitled, Max? Playing backyard catch

NARRATOR: One of the most apparent difficulties Max had to contend with after Jennie's death was the simple and yet essential routines of daily living. When she was alive their roles were sharply delineated; she fed, disciplined and worried over the family, he clothed them and kept the peace. She was a Jewish housewife to the core; after fifty-two years the adaptation to self-sufficiency was immensely difficult for Max. But in his characteristic technique of rationalizing, he generalized his hardships under the expansive category of "old age." I'm certain, however, that his indecisiveness had as much to do with his sense of loss as it did with old age.

MAX: By the way, there was here, Barney's side, a granddaughter with a child, and tomorrow comes the daughter, so he has plenty company. He has too much company, while I have none, nothing. So I'll finish up, I see the end is coming, and I wanna mail this here tape, so be well, and fix up your apartment so when I'll come I should be able to be proud of everything I'll see. And so long, and goodbye, and I'll try to get you another song or two in the next tape.

NARRATOR: Barney was a man with whom Max worked in the garment district for about forty years. He and his wife also had a condominium in Marlen Gardens, making him less of an old pal to reminisce with and more of a potential competitor for visitors. Max couldn't help but compare his situation with those around him. But although he was clearly heavily involved with self-pity, he made certain that the tape would end on a fairly optimistic note.

IMAGE: Dancing at Linda's wedding 1970

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NARRATOR: The following are two letters sent to Max from a widow also living at Marlen Gardens.

GUSSIE: Dear Max:

Just a few lines, I heard about your illness. Hope by this time you will be feeling much better. All men go through this ordeal.

I'm fine, weather is nice go to the pool every day and keep busy. I do hope by the time your receive this letter you will be on the mend.

By the way rumors in the Marlen – you are getting "married." Is it true? If so I wish you all the luck and happiness. But please be careful – before you leap. This is a big step in life – Remember, money does not bring happiness at this stage of the game – be well Max,

Sincerely,

Gussie Davis

If you have a chance please drop me a line

July 30, 1970

GUSSIE: Dear Max:

This letter might come as a surprise to you.

Hope you are having a wonderful time with your children.

I'm fine and sort of miss you. Lately you have been on my mind, thinking of the first time we met. I found you to be a nice person, sincere and truthful, which I admired in you. There is one thing; you can't seem to find yourself – make up your mind. When we lose our dear spouse we try to make comparisons. But I now realize that there is no comparison. Each and every one of us are different.

I too am afraid to take a chance. I happened to find something in you that attracted me to you. I'm the type that will never make the first move, why, because I'm shy and will not express my feelings towards you.

I don't have to tell you about myself, you already know me well enough.

I happen to be a clean cut, fine respectable person and conduct myself accordingly. I was visiting my children. some live in NJ and my daughter lives in NY. I have two Sons College Graduates and one Daughter also College Graduate, five Grandchildren. They all received a good Education and I'm sure proud of my family. I also made a trip to Rochester NY where I have my cousins residing. All toll I spent two months away from Marlen Gardens. Believe me, it was nice getting back home-The only trouble is that I'm lonesome for love, affection and having someone special that I think I might care to spend the rest of my life. Please don't laugh Max. I gave this a thought. Maybe you and I would try to become good friends when you get home. That is up to you.

If you feel like writing, we can correspond to each other, maybe in this way we can become closer. Max don't get hysterical. I guess this letter will surprise you very much. Someone said in your building that you are very fond of me, but that I'm too independent. It's not so-I'm a plain, simple down to earth person, I just can't fall over anyone. They must make the first move. Just like in a chess game –

Hope you are well and enjoying your children. All my good friends should have children they are a Blessing Will close with good wishes. Be well, drop me a line and I'll reply.

As ever, Gussie Davis

Please destroy this letter and don't advertise to Marlen.

IMAGE: At Marlen Gardens

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IMAGE:  untitled (Max in red-checked jacket dancing with Pauline?)