NY Times - Letter to the editor

 Got a letter published in NY Times 

It was regarding article on May 8 about Ed Koch

Story published in Allentown paper, 1/28/2004

 From The Morning Call

Allentonian's long devotion to Flyers earns a call

January 28, 2004

Poor Ken Hitchcock. Nobody believes it when he calls.

Ken Hitchcock, the head coach of the Flyers, recently took a little time to call long-time Allentown resident Frank Fiala. And he had to work to convince Frank that he was for real.

What prompted the Sunday morning phone call?

I had written to the coach two weeks earlier and I described Frank's avid devotion to the Flyers and his admiration for the discipline and spirit that Ken Hitchcock has brought to the team. And I neglected to tell Frank about my letter on his behalf. Given that the Flyers are in the heart of their season, I just was not sure when and if he might get a response.

But I guess Ken Hitchcock was impressed by Frank's amazing life. At age 91, Frank has lived through so much. The oldest of five kids, he dropped out of school to get a job and help feed his siblings. He raised his two young daughters by himself after his wife died at early age. He spent over 45 years as a truck driver, in an era when there was no national highway system and drivers had to pack and unload their vehicles. And, he owned a home in South Whitehall Township until just a few years ago.

Frank always had a bit of a wild side: He fought as a middleweight boxer; he lived and worked in New York City as a teenager, and nearly lost his leg in a motorcycle accident. I was surprised to learn he had never served in the military. This is not a guy who would ever back down from a fight. But then I found out: He tried to enlist, but they turned him down since he was a single parent.

Frank goes around saying he was ''born with a weak mind and a strong back.'' But he was always very inquisitive and curious. Being so hard working, Frank would have been a success at any college or academic field he might have tried.

I met Frank a year ago, purely by accident: I wound up renting an apartment in the same building where he lives. And like most people, I grossly underestimated his age. That's one of his favorite games, having folks guess how old he is. While his leathery skin and wispy white hair mark him as a senior citizen, his strong voice and firm grip belie a 1912 birth year.

I was a little nervous when I moved to Allentown in the summer of 2002. Having grown up in New York City, and having spent the last 12 years in Washington, D.C., this would be smallest city I have ever lived in. But I have a great job as the systems librarian at DeSales University, and I love all the parks, events, and festivals in the Lehigh Valley. And when ever I crave a subway ride and a little more concrete, I visit Manhattan. My dad passed away six years ago, and I relocated here so it would be easier to visit mom, who still lives on the upper West Side.

And now I'm hooked on rooting for the Flyers. As an ex-athlete (besides boxing, he excelled at baseball and football), Frank likes to watch the local sports teams on TV. But the Flyers are his favorite. He has memorized all their names and numbers, a little tricky given all the injuries and recent trades. He knows who are the goal scorers and who are the hustlers who dig the puck out from the corners. He rails against Steve Coates, the local Flyers TV announcer, for talking too much, but then misses him whenever they have the national guys doing the telecast.

The physical nature of hockey appeals to Frank. With his crooked nose and missing front teeth, courtesy of his boxing career, Frank looks like a hockey player. When the Flyers' star Jeremy Roenick was hit with a stick to the mouth a few weeks ago, he was up yelling at the refs. He felt the league was so unfair, giving Roenick a suspension and fine for tossing a measly water bottle on the ice. And of course, Frank knows which players on the team are the best fighters.

When I got over the shock over hearing that Ken Hitchcock called Frank, I was curious as to what they talked about. Actually, they didn't talk about the Flyers. I thought Frank would at least tell him to make all the players get a shave and haircut. Frank is ''old school'' when it comes to player appearance. But Ken Hitchcock just asked a few questions about Frank and thanked him for his loyalty to the team.

The games do mean a lot to Frank. He can't get out much in the cold weather and he battles a growing list of infirmities. Hardly a week goes by without his visiting another specialist or the pharmacy. And since a pacemaker was installed next to his heart two years ago, even the short walk to the local park leaves him winded.

Given Frank's self-reliant nature, it's no surprise he still drives and does all of his shopping and cooking himself. But later this year, he plans to move to an assisted-living apartment. He is worried about how he will get along. But, I'm sure he will charm the residents and staff in no time.

And, I'm hoping this June, he and I will be sitting in front of the TV at his new place, watching the Flyers hoist the Stanley Cup.

Article 1999 April

 

Leonard M. Weinstein

May 15, 1925   -   December 13, 1944

Ryan's story is a bit more glamorous than my dad's. My dad saw very little fighting. He spent most of his Army career training in obscure bases in the deep South. And when he finally got sent to France, months after the Normandy invasion, his unit got the relatively safe job of watching a coastal German strong point that remained behind in the wake of the Allied forces. But while he would survive the fighting, with the death of his brother, he desperately needed to get back home quickly. This past summer, many people went back in time to WW II via a special movie, "Saving Private Ryan". But few people were rooting for Tom Hanks on his perilous mission the way I was. You see in 1944, just like Ryan, my dad, Erwin Davidson, became the lone surviving child of his family when his brother was killed in battle. 

In December 1944, his mom, Lily, was alone in New York City. Her husband had died years earlier of liver disease. Both of her sons were serving the US Army in France. And in this cold, dark month, she learned that her youngest, Leonard, had been killed in action. The unbearable pain led her to take her life.

My dad had many blessings in his life. His talent for drawing lead to a career as a draftsman and artist. He traveled back to France after the war to photograph both the art and the country side that so inspired him. He had a long marriage and named his only son after his late brother. But regrettably, when his mom needed someone to lean on, he could not be there.

WW II called upon the fortitude and perseverance of so many. I always considered my self priveleged to have parents from this generation.

And their feats continue to this day. And this time, it was my mom that provided the inspiration.

This past year my dad was stricken with cancer. Through out his illness, my mom handled the many challenges of caring for my dad. He could no longer walk, and needed help even just sitting up in bed. His treatment required him to see different doctors and to receive an wide array of medications. And while she despaired at watching her husband grow frail, she handled all overwhelming details with unwavering patience and helped insure that his days were spent together with the one that cared for him so deeply.

"Saving Private Ryan" was a tough movie for me to watch. It came out last summer, but I did not go see it until this now. I’m glad I did because there was an extra bit of magic for me. I finally got to see my dad as a young man.

My dad was 40 years old when I was born. A spinal operation in the late 1950's would require him to wear a metal brace and forever move with slow deliberation. When I finally saw the few faded photographs of him taken in 1940's, I was shocked: He was so young and handsome. I personally think he was better looking than Matt Damon, who plays Ryan in the movie. But, I may be biased.

On June 14 1998, on Flag Day, my dad was laid to rest. I have always had a tough time with good byes. I never feel adequate to the task of saying the right things. And I was particularly dreading this day, saying good bye to my dad. But I told the Rabbi, I wanted to say a few words at the end of the funeral service.

When the moment came, I was overwhelmed with grief. But I had a little help. In my hands, I had a tangible part of my dad's life. I had the Bible that the US Army had given him so long ago. I turned to the page to read aloud the psalm that he, and so many people, have turned in their hour of need:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

Cybersurfing Column - Washington Post: September 12, 1996

 

Pop Quiz

Washington Post: September 12, 1996, Thursday; Pg. C07

Last week was the beginning of the semester at Georgetown University, and 160 brand new medical students descended on Dahlgren Memorial Library for their MDR (medical data reasoning) class.

Because of the explosive growth of the Internet, we decided to start this year's class with a Web treasure hunt. The students received basic instructions on surfing the Web and were unleashed to find such material as the Georgetown University phone book, a physician who diagnoses illnesses through people's portraits, and the calcium requirements for a 26-year-old pregnant woman.

Most of these questions were pretty straightforward: The answers could be found from the medical library's home page or by using a Web search engine. And the students whizzed through the first 11 questions. But many got stuck on the last question, which I made up: Find the address of a lab that tests for Kneist syndrome. Since my specialty is genetics, I'm familiar with sites of interest to clinical geneticists.

This question was tough to answer because the Web sites that could answer this question are password-protected and not in many Web indexes. This means you can't simply go to a Web search engine and type in "Kneist syndrome" to find the answer. I must confess, I took perverse pleasure in watching the whole '00 medical school class hunting down this information.

But in the end many did find it, in an obvious way. When the word got out that I wrote the question, they checked my home page. To help me in my work I had started a Webliography on human genetics, and the answer was sitting out there plain as day. On top of that, the students pointed out, the name of the syndrome is actually spelled "Kniest." I had simply copied off a Web page and never verified the spelling. I'm hoping the Medical Librarian Association doesn't find out and revoke my membership.

-- Len Davidson 

Letters to the Editor - Washington Post: August 29, 1996

 

Letters to the Editor

Washington Post: August 29, 1996, Thursday

When my anti-religious friend used to ask me, "Why do you go to synagogue?" I always answered, "Because they pay me to." I gave this humorous answer because I knew my friend was just looking for a fight. More important, I knew that at that point in his life, he could not appreciate the fellowship, mystery and joy that I get from religious worship.

J. S. White obviously does not care for religion. But I think he overlooks the fact that people don't show up at churches, synagogues or mosques because of the logical perfection of theologians. They show up because it is a compelling part of their lives.

LEN DAVIDSON