Daddy Max

One name Dad hasn't called me is Max!

Its funny, but Dad rarely calls me by my real name anymore.  Since his memory began slipping, he has branded me with more than a few names;  Ed, Leon, Tom, John, Dave, Bill.   From day to day it could be any of these or others, sometimes several in the same day.

I've come to believe each name has special meaning to him.  Perhaps he worked with Leon or Tom, maybe he served at the church's 'Brotherhood' with Ed or John.  Or these could be guys he liked hanging with or neighbors with whom he'd shoot the breeze.  Whoever they may have been, they were special to Dad.

When he calls me 'Dave,' for instance, he's probably thinking of Dave from church, the church in which Audrey was raised, where Dad and Mom attended and served for most of their adult lives.  Since Dad has been stuck in the house, Dave has regularly visited and continues to be a good friend.

I think his favorite monicker for me is 'Bill.'

This title most likely comes from, Bill, the cleaning guy.  Bill is an old friend of mine who runs a house cleaning service.  We were using Bill's services for a while back when Mom was still with us to keep Mom and Dad's place from getting out of control.  Cleaning days were a highlight for Dad.  Bill was more than 'the cleaning guy.'  He was a genuine and caring friend for Dad, who always took interest in Dad's thoughts and concerns.

Max apparently did hair in New Jersey back in the 1930's.  Was he a barber?  A hairdresser?  I'm not sure.  My wife refers to him as "Daddy Max" because of the way Max cared for my father-in-law when he was a child.  We believe he was somehow related to my father-in-law by marriage, perhaps married to his great-aunt.

Dad says,


"On Saturdays,  I'd take the train from 63rd Street and go over to New Jersey to see Max.  I'd spend the whole day with him at his shop."

Dad was an only child raised by his single mom who never married.  An unwed mother raising a child alone was simply untenable in the 1930's.  Young Herb didn't realize until he was a teen that his sister, Freda, was actually his birth-mother and that 'Mom' was actually his grandmother.  His grandfather had passed away before he could form a memory of him.

As a young boy being raised by women, living in virtual poverty, times spent with guys like Max, whatever the relationship, where important to Dad.  Max spent lots of time with young Herbie and made a remarkable impression.

Just this morning, Dad burst out with this fact...

"Each year, Max would send me and the girls to the stores and they would buy me all the clothes and shoes and supplies I needed for school that year."  

One thing that strikes me about old Max; Herb has never forgotten him or even mistakenly called someone else by his name, even on his most confused days.  Perhaps that is simply the way memory works.  We forget our most recent memories before the older ones.  But I'd like to believe 'Daddy Max' holds a special place in Dad's fragile memory, a place that time and aging have not been able to shake loose.

I don't know if there are any young men out there who would remember me in that way.  I hope so.  I know I'd like to find a way to make that kind of difference in a young boy's world, the kind of difference he will remember when all else is forgotten.  I'll look for him.  I'll pray he finds me.