My father loved to get dressed up; he was always very proud to wear his medals! He always yell at us to "Hurry up, I'm WAITING! Why in the hell am I always waiting for you all to get ready!" and he'd disappear and we'd wait for him to make an entrance He smelled like Old Spice and then Christian Dior for men. And wool.
He'd use big words and when you'd give him the "Huh?" look he'd make you look it up in the dictionary. (Thus our predilection for using Big Words! He pretended he didn't speak Hungarian (his childhood in the old West Side Hungarian neighborhood was crappy) but he would listen to the Hungarian Hour on the radio and spoke it fluently. He started most sentences with "God Damnit," when he was on the phone and then later, as we got older, in person.
He would 'conduct' classical music while driving, which used to scare me to death. I finally figured out he was driving with his knee. He loved convertibles! He loved music and singing especially, "I'm Glad I'm Not Young any More" from GIGI. He loved roller coasters.
I think he lived to yell at other lawyers and I don't know how many phones he destroyed banging the receiver instead of hanging up.
His way of "fixing" things was to wack it with a hammer. (Thus the ceiling radiator crashing to the floor and breaking his leg).
He was charming as all get out. All eyes would gravitate to him when he entered a room.
He could be very difficult and challenging to live with: his standards were very high. He wasn't afraid to wack you if you deserved it. But he'd go to the mat for you, taking on anyone, including the Lakewood School Board and my materanl grandmother (I don't know which was worse).
He called me My Schloukie Kid (don't ask me why) and Miachka. He and his needs came first (typical Aries) but I know he loved us fiercely.
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