I am disappointed that you won't be able to visit us on Thanksgiving. It's been so long since we have seen each other. Sadly, what once was such a close family, now mostly memories.
This may sound strange, but every time I go to a concert, hearing a cello solo, I relive some of my happier youthful memories. Especially times I spent with my Uncle Frank, your father. Although only an uncle through marriage, he was my favorite. During my adolescence I spent more time with him than even my own father, who had little time for me.
I worked with Uncle Frank at Central Drugs, Uncle Joe's drug store, after school. At the time he was studying medicine at the U. of Manitoba. He never quite made it, but settled for a degree in Pharmacy.
I was about fifteen. I fondly recall a concoction, a soft drink he 'invented'. The store had a four stool soda fountain with four spigots: they dispensed coca-cola, sarsaparilla, root-beer syrups and the fizz water. One especially hot July day Uncle Frank combined all three syrups and pasted a huge hand printed sign in the window: " DRINK ZIP".
Often he ordered a triple deck chicken club sandwich for lunch from the new Child's restaurant on Portage Avenue. I rode my bike there to pick it up and he always saved me a little corner of it.
Down the block there was a real Italian restaurant, owned and operated by a first generation family. One evening, after work, he decided to have dinner there and invited me to come along. He ordered roast pork along with the spaghetti. I had never eaten ham or pork. My family, all our relatives, abided by the dietary laws. To me eating pork was a sin, (Uncle Frank was only a quarter Jewish; I'm not sure which quarter).
Anyway, I ate the dinner. As we left the restaurant, I became sick and promptly lost the meal. To this day, I occasionally eat ham, (if they call it chicken), but I cannot stomach pork.
Anytime I think back to this episode, I picture the Italian owner's children, two boys, ages about ten and twelve. Seated at the counter they were consuming a mountain of spaghetti. They must have each weighed almost two hundred pounds. Their parents, at least three hundred.
I recall once, probably shortly after Uncle Frank married your mother, my Aunt Mary, he developed a large growth on his cheek. It was extremely painful, had to be lanced. While he recuperated, I spent many an hour playing records from his extensive classical collection.
He was an avid stamp collector, had accumulated a large box full of envelopes with canceled stamps from all over the world; I had the job of removing the stamps by soaking them. One day Uncle Frank drove up in a shiny new Ford; he had sold his valuable stamp collection. It would be worth a small fortune today!
Your father, as you well know, was one of the finest cello players in all of Canada. He played with a group at the Fort Gary hotel, the most exclusive in the city, during the dinner hour. He also was one of the first to play at the new radio station CKY. I vividly recall accompanying him to one of the broadcasts. The walls of the huge room were entirely covered with wine colored velvet drapes.
I never heard the trio play, but I recall the ARK combination. R for Redlich, your father. K for Koodlach, my uncle (through marriage on my father's side), played the violin, and I'm trying to place the A...
Uncle Frank was also a sports enthusiast. He managed the University's baseball team; of course I was the official BAT BOY! His late hours with the hotel orchestra got him involved in gambling. He even bet on professional baseball games. It was a source of discord with your mother. I was with uncle Frank the night of the Dempsey Firpo fight. On the street in front of the Free Press building we watched in flashing lights the blow by blow action.
In the early 20's the local paper published a 'how to' article on making a crystal radio set. With help from Uncle Frank, I put together some wire, a cat's whisker on an oatmeal carton. Since there was only one radio station on the air in Winnipeg, there was no interference. In the meantime he worked on a tube set. I recall all the whistles and screeching mixed with the music from KDKA Pittsburgh. I think it was a fifty thousand watt station.
Just now, for some reason, I flashed back to the time shortly after your parents were married. Your mother heated an unopened can of beans. I'm sure you know what happened! She carried facial scars the rest of her life.
My memories of your family are blank after we left Canada. I cannot recall our families getting together in Los Angeles. I know you moved there shortly after we did. Perhaps you can fill me in? Daughter Marion reminds me that she spent many hours with your family.
Were all your siblings born in Montreal? I recall you lost a very young brother on a swing accident.
I hope we can see you and Manie the next time you head north.
On to Uncle Joe
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