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Harvey Hockstein
I am a late achiever, being eighty-six years old. I may be called a very late, late achiever. But here is a short rendition of the last eighty-six years.
My father wanted me to be a mechanic. He w...voir plusI am a late achiever, being eighty-six years old. I may be called a very late, late achiever. But here is a short rendition of the last eighty-six years.
My father wanted me to be a mechanic. He was a jack of all trades and a master of all trades. Both my parents came over to America on a boat. They were both ten years old and had to adapt to a new lifestyle.
My grandfather and the oldest of the Hockstein siblings preceded the rest of the five siblings to this nation as they could not afford to bring everyone over at the same time. My uncle Sam acted as a “chaperone” in this fabled land where the streets were paved with gold.
The first time, while walking with Sam, they were approached by a policeman, Sam assured my father that in America, we need to be afraid of the police. Ah, security!
My father drove a bus and eventually bought a small hardware store in Verona, New Jersey. And that is where I learned my trade.
I didn’t enjoy being a hardware man and eventually called myself Harvey Hardware. This was not the name of the business, but I made a living. In the eighth grade, I wrote a poem about Pearl Harbor. I read it to my parents, and they thought it was very good.
Our English teacher, Miss Camp, made a change in the last stanza. I had written “that the sons of the Heaven were going to Hell.” Miss Camp said that one could use such language (the Japanese termed themselves the sons of heaven), so I thought of other rhymes but never considered them printable. My, how times have changed.voir moins