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2003-12-16 - 4:52 a.m.

1916 - 2003

Yesterday morning I had the strange privilege of being present as my grandfather�s extraordinary life came to a close. Born in 1916 here in New York, he lived part of his childhood in Belgium where his parents were originally from. His father, a diamond cutter, decided to bring his family back to America where he could make more money by opening a speak easy. Eventually his father wanted to return to Belgium but my Great Grandmother refused to return. She knew her two young sons, born citizens, would have a better life in America. They divorced and my great grandmother stayed here in America.

My Grandfather would tell me stories about how in those days apartment buildings would often offer anywhere from one to six months rent free in order to attract tenants. Thus he and his brother would often cart there stuff in a wheelbarrow as they made their frequent moves around Brooklyn.

As a young adult my grandfather became a golden gloves boxer. It offered a purse that was a sizeable chunk of change for those days and was certainly a faster way of making money. Simply put, he wasn�t a large man and he never got rich by boxing.

My Grandad, John, and his brother Henny met two lovely sisters, Mary and Martha Fallon whom they fell madly in love with and married. I remember as a child being amazed that our families were doubly related.

The happy couple

Mary and John had 4 children: Phyllis, Bernie (my dad), Jimbo and lil Mary. Sometime between my Uncle Jimbo and my Aunt Mary World War II broke out and my Grandfather enlisted as a Merchant Marine. His brother Henny had already gone in the Navy and told my grandfather that seamen on the naval ships made half as much as the merchant marines even though they frequently escorted those same ships and were subjected to as much risk. My grandfather figured he might as well make the money and started his training, much of which took place in the galley cooking up potatoes. Luckily for us, the war ended not long afterwards.

Grandpa John returned to the laundry service he�d started and with his connection now with the shipyards began laundering for many of the ships that came to port.

Though my father and his brother both went into the fire department it became a real family business. My father had to retire from FDNY for an injury and became a partner. My uncle often worked there on his days off.

Us kids all worked there at times, folding sheets and towels so hot that the tips of your fingers would blister and callous immediately. To this day, the smell of steam reminds me of my Dad and Grandad.

Not even Hell can be hotter than a laundromat in the summer when the industrial dryers are on. I remember as a child, when we lived in the apartment above the laundromat, playing hide and go seek in the industrial dryers. He told us next time he caught us in there he was going to turn it on.

My grandfather only last week insisted on taking a ship � naturally he was too sick to do it himself, my uncle had to take care of it. I suppose it was the last. My grandfather is sailing on a different sea now. Bon voyage!

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