Little boy don't cry,
I'll never leave you never till l'll die,
I'll be your mama and your daddy,
I'll be there and always ready,
I'll see that no harm s'done to you. 1.
Some make millions, for their only source in life of joy,
I wouldn't trade you for all the millions that they have my boy.
Little boy don't cry,
It's not your fault that you didn't die,
Momie intervened in heaven,
Save my son, save one in seven,
It was granted her this wish, so here you are.
Some have fame and wealth bestowed, the best and nothing less,
I'm not much rich nor am I known, I'll love you never the less.
Little boy don't cry,
I can not see the tear drops in your eyes,
I'll be your mom, I'll be your father,
Cause we need one and an other,
I'll see that no harm s'done to you.
Little boy don't feel no guilt,
That you are living and every one s'been killed,
Its a heartbreak, it's a shame,
You must live on just the same,
You must grow and carry on the name.
1. Is this a reference to Uncle Levenstein, with whom Aron spent his teen years?
A flame, brethern there's a flame,
A sweeping fire to our town came,
If you love your town brothers,
Come on out you sons and fathers,
With your blood the fire drown,
Save your little town,
And you sit there and you gaze upon the spreading flame,
If your town will burn yours will be the blame.
A flame brethern there's a flame,
A sweeping fire to our town came,
The fire all around is looming,
It can easily become consuming,
Rise with might, put up a fight,
Don't act as thou you're lame,
But you sit there and you gaze, upon the spreading flame,
Should your town burn down,
Yours will be the blame.
Oh darling daughter say goodnight, Lu, Lu, Lu
Kiss your momy, hug her tight,
Kiss your daddy too.
You've spent the day in work and play,
And now time for dreams,
Before you know, the night will end,
THen one more day begins.
Oh Darling daughter go to sleep, Lu, Lu, Lu,
Gather up your bonnies ship, hug tham close to you.
We're young but once, we have one chance,
The cup of youth, to drink,
Life is like a chain made up of links,
We pass from link to link
So darling daughter, say goodnight, Lu, Lu, Lu
Kiss your mommie, hug her tight, kiss your daddy too.
Today it's here, tomorrow twas,
Time takes no rest, no pause,
Another while it won't be long,
And you shall sing this song.
Ah, An, lulu, Mikie boy,
Go to sleep, my little boy,
Mike will grow one day to be a big man,
He will be as strong as anyone then,
AH, Ah, Lu, lu, Mikie boy,
Go to sleep, my little joy,
One day he shall marry him a princess,
His diamonds, they will measure by the inches,
Ah, Ah, lu, lu Mikie boy,
Go to sleep my little boy
Mike one day will grow to be a wise man,
Or would you rather fight, and be a prize man.
Ah, Lulu, Mikie boy,
Go to sleep my little boy,
Close your eyes my little boy.
2. written for Michael, his oldest son
I'm going to tell my son a story,
I'm gonna sing my son a lullaby,
It's not what you might call, a song of glory,
It's something, that I hope he might abide by.
Sleep my little one, sleep my only one,
Close your eyes, till dawn,
And when you open them. The sun will shine again,
Cause one more night had gone.
Nights will come and go, It was always so, since the world begun,
So sleep my little one, Oh sleep my only son,
Say good night to mom.
When you grow up dear, have for life no fear,
Make life sweet, and full of joy,
Love your fellow man, and help him when you can,
then life will be worth while my boy.
Rockabye, rockabye, sweet little baby
Sleep in a hurry for sure not for maybe
Sleep in a hurry,
Wake and be merry
Up in a cloud
Is sailing your ferry
The stars in the sky are shiny and bright
The man is the moon is waving goodnight
He knows if your sleepy
He knows if your not
So sleep little baby
Keep little eyes sharp
Sleep little baby, grow bigger and broader
For each tooth that you loose you'll get a new quarter
The ferry will climb from the clouds and the willow
And pick up your tooth, from under your pillow
Rockabye, rockabye, sweet little lover
One day you'll go looking, and then you'll discover
A princess a girl
Full of diamonds and pearls
Dresses of silk
Sweet like honey and milk
Rockabye, Rockabye, sweet little baby
Sleep in a hurry for sure not for maybe
Sleep in a hurry
Wake and be merry
Up on a cloud
Is sailing your ferry
Sleep little baby
And dream pleasent dreams
Tomorrow a new day is sure to begin
Sleep in a hurry,
Wake up gay and be merry
Up on a cloud
Is sailing your ferry
Oh people stop, and have by me your shoes shined,
Be unto an orphan boy a bit kind,
I shall clean them, I shall polish,
They'll not look at all demolished,
They will shine, from tiptop, and from hind.
Oh people stop, and have by me your shoes shined,
Be unto an orphan boy a bit kind,
I'll shine them old I'll shine them new,
Just raise your foot, and place your shoe,
Shine and bluster they will for a dime.
My father left my mother, when a little boy I was,
My ma just dropped on day and died, Without a given cause.
Left alone, was I bewildered,
Insecure from no one shielded.
Help me have mercy on my soul.
Good people stop, and have by me your shoes shined,
Be unto an orphan boy, a bit kind,
Step right up and gain a deed,
Please respond unto my plead,
Help a little orphan in his need.
On a farm in a hut,
Through a window half way shut
Children sit, and talk what not.
Little boys without a care,
Little Girls groomed, with golden hair,
And between them, in their midst,
With eyes so sad, yes, there sits a kid.
Yes, so dark that can't be missed,
Lips like wine, meant to be kissed,
A nose well shaped, and very fair,
A head of dark , and curly hair.
His momie brought him out at night,
Rapped and cuddled, out of sight,
And she kissed him, and she cried,
Then she spoke, unto her child.
Listen son to every word
Then obey I pray my love
Hear your mommies last appeal,
Hear me out, while you can still.
I brought you here, my son because,
Your life is threatened, by an evil cause,
If I may die, so you can live,
My life, for yours I'll gladly give.
Be you proper, act galore,
Wipe your tears, and cry no more,
With the children, play you fine,
Don't demand or shout it's mine,
No Jewish word, no song no clue
From here on out, you're not a Jew.
The place unknown, to him strange
The name he once bore, had been changed
He seldom smiles, appears so sad
He seems much older than a lad
His mommy he is longing for
Will he not see her anymore?
He cries and stops and cries a new
From here on out, he's not a Jew
I want to go on home,
The place that I come from,
I'd like to be with friends,
That I walked hand in hands,
I want to hear my pa,
See my sis and kiss my ma,
I want to go on home.
I want to go on home,
The place where I come from,
Where people smile and greet,
Wherever they might meet,
I'll take a boat and sail,
To my home, where friendliness prevails,
I want to go on home.
I miss my girl so,
The places we would go,
I do not want to be,
In this place thats strange to me,
They talk in such a way,
I don't know what they say,
I want to go on home,
In the regions of Treblinko,
In some field or river bed,
Life the ashes of a babe, 3.
Somewhere lying there outspread.
She bares no stone, no monument,
No trace of any mark or letter.
Reduced to but a tiny part of roving matter
On the wings of gusty wings,
They fly and splatter,
In the night I see her face,
I hear her chatter.
She reappears, and seems so near,
I see her play her voice I hear,
I reach on out, she draws away,
I see a face of yesterdays.
From the regions of Treblinko,
She smiles at me with vivid eyes and lashes.
Then when early dawn awakes me,
She disappears in little ashes.
3. a reference to Aron's sister Sally
A father and a kid,
Marched on a lonely street,
In clothes are striped that bore a yellow star,
in columns assembled,
They moved on, and the rambled,
They marched on, in rows stretching far.
My son I'm getting weary,
My legs refuse to carry me,
Another step I am afraid,
They're swollen and they're bleeding,
They'll not take much more beating,
I feel soon i'll meet with my fate,
My son you're getting older
He spoke while leaning on his shoulder,
The time has come fore me to say goodbye
He handed me his bread
His water, then he said,
Survive my son, live on, say that you'll try.
His son by now is grown,
With children of his own,
Of grandad they ask once in a while,
They shot him in the head,
And left him lying dead,
If he could but, have marched on for a while.
4. Is he Aron's father Mendel who died in the camps with Aron? Aron never said how he died except to say that he died in the camps.
Aron: This song is dedicated to my mother in law whose name is Annie. There was a time when she was seriously ill, and confined to a sanatorium suffering from tuberculosis The place was located on a a plateau with winding roads and hills. Her husband whose name is Izzy, took it very hard, having hardly ever been separated from Annie during the many years of their marriage. He missed her terribly. Izzy would travel daily many miles and stand near her window (sometimes long before visiting hours ) trying to get her attention, by calling to her through the window. It was very touching to see him standing by the window sill trying to catch a glimpse of his Annie. So, I decided to write a song about it.
I walk along a winding hill,
Till I'm near a window sill,
Annie's ailing up above there,
Annie's there my love.
I look about and then I shout,
Annie can you hear me out?
Can you see me from above,
Against your window sill.
Lift yourself up to the window,
Try not to get dizzy,
Let me catch a glimpse of you,
It's me your husband Izzy.
All at once the window parts,
Filled with joy becomes my heart,
Annie's looking at me down,
Smiling from above.
I ask of Annie how she is.
Hurry up get better please.
And I count the days,
When Annie will be in my arms.
And I count each day out,
And I count each week,
Annie's been here such a long time,
Annie's been so sick.
Time for me to leave you now,
Time for me to say good by
lay your head upon your bed,
And don't you dare and cry.
We've agreed that we'll meet at the corner,
At the corner by the sign
We have said that we'll get to the corner,
Yes at the corner sharp at nine
Oh how shy the clock is ticking
Feel like taking it and kicking
Will it ever strike out nine?
We have made us a date for the corner,
On the corner sharp at nine
Then we'll dance and we'll dine until midnight
Well see the highlights and the bylights after nine
My how slowly passes time
five six seven when is nine?
well it ever come about?
We've agreed that we'll meet at the corner
on the corner by the sign.
Then we'll dance and romance until twilight
Well have a gay life of a time
My how slowly passes time
Five six seven when is nine?
Will it ever come about?
Weve agreed that well meet at the corner
On the corner by the sign
then we'll dance and romance until twilight
We'll have a gay life of a time
Mama, a doctor I shall be,
Mama, a doctor I will be,
A doctor makes sick people healthy
He's looked up too, he gets wealthy
Mama you just wait and see
Mama I'll be a movie star
Mama I'll be a movie star
I'll be famous I'll be known
I'll be seen all over shown
And I'll travel wide and far
Mama I'll be a millionaire
Mama I'll be a millionaire
I'll build a great big mansion
You'll be free of worry tension
Mama, you'll be without a care
Mama for president I'll run
Mama that's what I'll become
I'll sign bills pass legislation
I'll be head of our great nation
Mama, then will I then have fun
Oh Debra, Ye beautiful Debra,
My heart, goes out to thee,
Listen, Oh listen with me friend mine,
Hear the melodies above.
Come, ye music makers spin on,
Sound, the trumpets, and the violins on,
Cause, Debra my love, is being betrout,
Oh God, how dark will my days be,
With Debra, with Debra, without.
Hear now, Oh hear the fiddlers playing,
A wedding march, for Debra seroneying,
All the lights, are lit up brightly,
Merry are the guests, and acting sweetly,
But sad is my heart, Oh God my almighty.
What good, is friend mine your comfort,
When Debra, will never be mine,
Never, Never,
No Debra, will never be mine.
Down the street, on see them marching down the street,
To sounds of bullets, and the whip.
They march, forlorn.
There holds a mom a babe, thats newly born,
An old man walks with help of cane,
A youngster cries, in anguished pain,
From mother torn,
To God, you hear them pray and morn.
Down the street, oh sees them marching down the street,
With bayonets, behind their feet,
Their's of, unto a journey.
They know, this one is for eternity.
Their heads are low, their backs are bent,
With children clinging to their hands,
They march unto eternity,
They face their fate, affirmative.
Down the street, oh watch them marching down the street,
Like cattle to the slaughter, in a fleet,
They march unto eternity.
Lift up your head and thank,
For each lake, and river bank,
Valley and hill.
For mountains that shear the skies,
Deserts that catch the eyes,
Grasslands that harmonize,
Land that I feel.
Bow down your head in grace,
For it's a mighty place,
You and I live.
Freedom to speak or not,
Freedom to make a lot,
Freedom to serve your God,
Gladiy my life I'll give.
Land that is filled with most,
Home of the purged and lost,
Land I call my,
Land where my children grow,
Land they will build and plow,
To no man they'll ever bow,
For thee I'll die.
Hard is the life of an orphan boy,
Bitter s'his day and without a joy,
with no father of his, an embrace, or a kiss.
A father s'necessary for a boy,
He provides his needs, and buys his toys,
He who father has, is from God so blessed,
Filled with laughter, is his day,
And thou a mom could be loving tenderly,
She could never take his place.
What could take the placae of a dad's embrace,
A ton of gold could not replace,
And thou, a mom could give, love and share his grief,
Yet a dad she'll not replace,
How could one compare all the loving care,
That a father only has,
And what about the fun, to bat a ball with dad and run,
What more could one ask?,
And tho a father might, never please you quite,
Make you, made and fight,
He'll still thou, hover by your side.
So if your discontent, the way your pa is bent,
Thank the Lord, for having him at at hand.
Today my pa was crying,
He was, there's no denying.
He trembled, and he shook, as he cried.
Today his folks were dying.
Outstretched somewhere they're lying,
The henchmen they got them out last night.
A portrait he was holding,
He was slowly it unfolding,
An image of his loved ones in their best.
His sisters and his brothers,
His nieces and their fathers,
The henchmen, they got them to the last.
He sat and he was staring,
His feelings I was sharing,
He wept and kissed each one, and he so yearned.
They walked them in the rain,
like cattle to the train,
They gassed them, and their bodies then they burned.
My ma beside him was sitting,
She sounded so forbidding,
They're gone and dead she said like from a text,
Today it was your sisters and your mother
Tomorrow they'll be others,
Our number s'coming up, we shall be next.
There south bound is the ghetto,
Filled with struggle, turmoil,
There fenced in is the ghetto,
Life is sorer than a boil,
They spent their days, in grieving,
In hunger, sick of living,
In groves from near, and from far,
Forced to war a yellow star.
once they were men , freely breathing,
They roamed the earth, just as they pleased
Now with fence, barbed in forbidding,
Their life s'compared, to that of beast.
There, south bound is the ghetto,
Filled with struggle, turmoil,
There fenced in, is the ghetto,
Life is sorerer than a boil.
With death, to live they learn,
For deliverance they yearn,
They're hit, they're bit, without cause,
There's no justice, there's no laws.
Did you ever see a line, without an endless sign,
That curves and turns, Unloads and then returns,
from start until it's quitting time.
Did you ever see a line that stretches long and far,
inconstant motion, through shouts and all commotion,
Car, after, car, after car,
Filled with frames, and chassis, doors and trunks and hoods,
From welder unto grinder, and on unto the spraying booths,
A never ending noise, of men and tools,
Drilling and hitting and ever repeating,
like blind fooled mules
Buzz Buzz and tick tack, blended in rhyme,
In sorrow and laughter on moves the line,
with men of all races and creeds,
The old and the young, and the new hired kids.
They repeat and repeat, each step with their feet,
Each movement with hand,
While the line she moves on.
She won't stop or relent.
In grueling summer heat, or winter freeze,
The line moves on she never quits,
And tho you might not feel,
Your tired, worn even ill,
You still push on, the line moves on,
you must keep up, with no delay, there is no other way.
The seat and tear, the constant wear,
You curse and sear, your boss you feel like strange tear,
Oh blasted fate, you cry in hate,
You blame with world the one's you love
Why even Kate you're filled against with hate.
Quit they say, if you don't like our way,
Quit with you we'll have one less to pay,
There are men a plenty lined, to take your job away.
So you think you lack in pay,
You say you want a raise,
In heavens blaze they'll come a day,
when you'll thank your lucky star, for what you got,
Why men, statistics show,
That every one, out of ever ten,
Is without a job,
And you go got the nerve, to curse your bitter lot.
What about it you ungrateful man,
You think that you do better can?
You say you'd rather dig a ditch,
Why statistically you're getting rich.
You claim it isn't fair,
You feel you ought to get your share,
That you appreciate would too,
To lounge in cruisers, boats or canoes.
You state your son is bright,
you'd like to see him go to school,
Tell your son to get a job you fool,
And work his way through school.
Oh, so you think it isn't just,
For him to go to school by night, and work by day,
While others sons should spend their college days,
Like sons of kings in fun and lust.
Stop your squawking little man,
What you need, s'a talking too,
ungrateful man, Look at men that dwell on overseas,
They would overjoy, the earth they'd surely kiss,
If he could the land you live in, his.
So do not curse your bitter lot,
Bow your head, and thank the Lord,
Ungrateful man, for what you got.
Paint eyes that speak of sorrow,
Despair, no hope and no tomorrow,
Come with me to the ghetto,
Take a brush & paint a scene,
Come deep inside the ghetto,
You'll not forget where you've been,
Use paint of black, paint no sun,
Pin a yellow star on everyone,
Paint our president, he's speaking,
Near the steeple,
He's goes by carriage, never needs a shave,
It's he that took his life,
And then the people,
Knew the situation became grave.
Come deeper in the ghetto,
Follow me with a brush in hand,
Paint a portrait for one friend,
Paint faces, changing and unfed,
A mother suckling to a child that's half way dead.
In storm in gail,
We shall march in detail,
We shall fight and be ready to die,
We'll march on and cheer,
For the land that's us dear,
While our flag up above us will fly.
We'll fight and we'll shield,
For the land that we built,
We'll repond to our cause without fail.
On the land in the air,
We shall smash and detear,
While our cruisers to sea they will sail.
Not a step we'll retreat,
We'll pursue and defeat,
For our cause we are willing to die,
We shall rise one and all,
Than they'll crumble and fall,
While our glory above us will fly.
Forget it, please forget that we met,
Don't let it fill your heart with regret,
It's over it was only a dream,
Now you're awake and away from him,
Forget it please make good my request,
We had our fun, but it could'nt last,
Its over, tho you wish that its not,
All over and by all forgot,
Forget it make believe you don't feel,
Say its a dream, say its not real,
Forget it its far better this way,
We had our miment but gone s' the day,
Oh Natan one day, felt mighty aloof,
While home on his way, the bird he out of,
He comes in the house, his wife she aroused,
She claps with her hands, and loudly she shouts.
Oh Nate, Oh Nate, please tell me relate,
Oh Nate, my beloved, Oh Nate my adored,
Please bring back your bird, it must be restored
Did ever the bird, cause any misgiving,
Or maybe the bird demanded a living,
Has ever the bird stood in your religion,
Or did it effect, your being in the legion.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
Did ever the bird, demand from you payments,
Or maybe you thought, it made you unfamous,
Oh Nate, Oh Nate, have mercy on Kate,
Oh Nate my beloved, Oh Nate my adored,
Please bring back the bird, it must be restored,
Has ever the bird, with you interfered,
Please tell me the reason, for having it sheared.
Might you have thought, the bird too revealing,
Or maybe you felt, it wasn't appealing,
has someone remark, the baker, the shoe man,
Or maybe, the cause, is some other women.
When will he come the Messiah,
When will he come the Messiah,
When will he come the Messiah,
When will he liberate us.
He'll come a riding on a stallion white as snow,
He'll hold a trumpet in his hand, and then he'll blow,
Than we shall see the Messiah,
We'll dance around the Messiah,
We'll greet and sit, with the Messiah,
When the Messiah will be here.
The bible says he'll blow his trumpet, and its sound,
Will waken all the dead, from everywhere around,
The dead will rise, and follow the Messiah,
There'll be David, slayer of Goliath,
There'll be Samuel, Jeremiah,
And of course, there'll be Isaiah,
There'll be much joy, and jubilation than for all,
The dead will hug the living, and they'll have a ball.
Than we shall see the Messiah
We'll dance around the Messiah,
We'll greet, and sit , with the Messiah,
When the Messiah, will be here.
What good are my diamonds and pearls,
Sheldon: Elaine gave me the computer printouts which she wrote many years ago. I converted this via OCR. Elaine will probably be making updates based on what we have since learned ...
Aron Levenstein was born in Bialystock Poland in the summer of 1929 or 1930. For most of my life he had claimed the earlier date, later he said he really was one year younger than my mother. Aron was the sole survivor of the Holocaust from the extended Levenstein family.
My father died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack when he was in his mid - forties. Our family was led to believe that much of the damage to his heart was caused by the starvation he suffered as a young teen in the camps.
Dad told us that we could be anything we wanted to be, and he made it clear to us, that we were going to be educated, and professional people. He taught us to stick by each other. He taught us that it was important that we carry on the Jewish traditions.
Making money was of no small importance to my dad, and he was good at it. He was a self-made business man. He spoke several languages, wrote and read extensively, sang and even played the piano, and gave generously to us, and to charity. My father was a kind and generous man, he was known for his intelligence, and wit and his business sense. Dad could and did converse well with all people. He was well known, and well liked in the community. The father we knew was remarkable in many ways, he was a man who devoted a lot of time to us, educated us, sang to us, read to us, took us everywhere, and did everything for, and with us. He had a temper that scared me some, but that and a hint of sadness, along with a tattoo on his arm, and an accent, were the only reminders that he was a survivor of a story of such magnitude.
Bits and pieces of my father's story were told to us as children, often during the dinner hour. He wanted us to know that all things were possible. My father's story begins as a "normal" Jewish family in Bialoystock. His father's name was Mendel, his mother was Esther. He had a baby sister, named Sally. Mendel was a business man. He sold pots and pans and Aron often accompanied him on his trips. They were middle-class by the standards of the day, and they were a religious family. My father sometimes told stories of his childhood, which seemed happy. It was clear to me that he missed his family terribly.
My father and his family were moved to the ghetto, along with all the Jews of his community. My father was not yet a teen. Stories of life in the ghetto described a life filled with torture and fear. Yet, the family was together. My dad showed us the scar on his leg, where a German Sheppard attack dog had bitten him. He said he nearly died from infections. The dog was stuck on him, by German soldiers, in sport. An interesting aside to this story is that my father remained an avid dog lover and begged my mother to let us have one. My father told us of the time he built his mother a stove,
so that she would not have to stand in line to use the communal one. His stove required piping, that dad needed to steal from another building. Dad was nearly caught stealing that pipe by a Jew ( on patrol by the Nazi's against his own people). He made a daring and quick escape. Food in the ghetto was scarce, and dad and Mendel were let out on work-releases. Mendel taught my father how to smuggle margarine back in, by smearing it on his body. My father got brave and decided to
smuggle potatoes in his shoes. Mendel told him no, but he did it anyway, Dad was caught with his potatoes, and survived the brutal beating. The said the usual punishment for smuggling was death) My father built a doll-carriage for Sally while in
the ghetto. Aron was Bar-Mitzvahed in the ghetto.
Dad told us very little about his life in the concentration camps. He showed us his tatoo, and said he would never have it removed as it represented too much of his history for him. Dad told us that the men were separated from the women in the camps. That was the last time, Aron saw his mother and sister. He told us that they died in the gas chambers. We know that Aron and Mendel were together for a time in the camps. A poem appears to tell of Mendel's death., by a bullet to the head. My dad did tell of starvation and disease. In the end he spent most of the time sleeping, waiting for death. He told of giving up, and of an older prisoner forcing him to fight on for his life. This man emigrated to Israel, and dad kept up with him while we grew up. Aron told us about the cattle cars, and of the long marches. In the end he survived Buckenwald-Treblinko, and was liberated from the Auschwitz concentration camp.
My father lived on for a time in Germany. He refused to stay in school and ran away and lived off of the farms. When caught stealing eggs from a farmer, his only answer, was to show the man his tattoo. Finally social service agencies arranged transportation for my dad to the United States, where he was placed in foster homes in
St. Louis. My father had a memory of the existence of an Uncle who had left Europe in the 1920's. My cousin Sylvia recounted the story of that eventful phone call when dad finally found Uncle Levenstein in Chicago. Uncle couldn't believe there really was a family member left. But Aron, had all the right answers to his questions. Uncle took over custody of my father, and Aron went to Chicago to live with him.
Sylvia remembers my father as a boy with a wild streak, who liked motorcycles, and did many adventuresome and dangerous things. Finally, he told his aunt that he hadn't survived Auschwitz to kill himself racing on a motorcycle. Sylvia said that Auntie had trouble teaching my father that he needn't keep all his belongings under his pillow. (a carry-over habit from the camps) Finally, the lesson was learned when auntie threw everything under the pillow outside. My father spoke highly of his life his uncle, and I remember him telling us everything that his cousin Sylvia did to help him adjust to his new surroundings. He told us how his auntie had cooked him wonderful meals, and how she worked at building him up.
My father attempted high school for a time, but eventually quit. He met and married my mother, Minnie, who was a Chicago born Jew of immigrant Russian parents. My mother tells us that dad had much inner turmoil, and in fact, spoke of
nervous breakdowns which were hidden from us as we grew up.
While we grew up my father worked 2 jobs, one in the Ford factory as a welder, and a second career was selling on the famous Maxwell street. My father did not mince words in describing how he felt about his factory job, yet diligently he worked on at it for close to 20 years. My father had an old sewing machine, with which he would make repairs and hems on the pants he sold. Michael often accompanied his father, and, worked with him on the somewhat wild and unpredicatable street. Eventually dad went into business for himself, and was able to quit his dreadful job in the factory. He was forced out of one business during the Martin Luther King riots, a 2nd business failed. His third business was the one he was running at the time of his death. Mom continued to run this business after his death until it burned down. My dad raised us three children. Michael (1951) ( named for Mendel) is a self-employed CPA, Elaine (1952) (named for Esther) is a special education teacher and sh (1961) (named for Sally) is a computer engineer. Aron passed away shortly after Sheldon's Bar Mitzvah. Aron is survived by his 3 children and has 6 grandchildren that were born after his death. I'd like to think that his spirit is with each of his grandchildren as they reach the age of their Bar/Bat Mitzvah, and that he is proud. He left us a legacy of his own inner strength and love for his family. Amongst Aron's papers are the poems he wrote about love, and life, and death, and survival. Aron Levenstein 's story will not be found in any history books, yet he was a giant among men.
When your not here to share,
What good is my title of Earl,
When she's gone and does not care.
Please, please come on back,
Come back and I'll say that I'm sorry,
You're much more precious to me,
Than titles, diamonds, and glory.
What good is my maid or my servant,
They can't serve you in a dish,
I'll part with my banks, or being a merchant,
It's you it's you that I wish.
Please please come on back,
Come back and I'll say that I'm sorry,
I'll serve and cater to you,
Be mine and I'll always adore ye.
What good is mine sleek Continental,
When you're not there by mine side,
I've treated your wisely and gentle,
I never caused any fight.
Please please come on back,
Come back and I'll say that I'm sorry
Forget what ever I said, Come back to me please in a hurry.
Aron Levenstein June 1930? May 1975 told by Elaine Roth