Memories of Somone Else's Father, Thank God!

This is part of an email I received from an old friend I haven’t seen since 1977. He describes the father of another friend I haven’t been in touch with since 1966.

“His father, a man of exemplary reputation, once tried to get me to hawk fake driver's licenses for college students so they could drink. He took me down to the basement of his pool hall ….. to show me his printing press-- where he also had about a thousand stolen TV sets which he wanted me to sell to students for 50 bucks apiece. (I think television sets back then cost a couple hundred)

The father died of a heart attack in a phone booth at the Police Station, across the street from the pool hall. My brother went to the Shiva house the night of the funeral to conduct a service for the family and shortly after he left, six armed thugs held them at bay in the living room while they ransacked the house looking for money they believed the father had stashed.

I last saw the father was at the Hospital a couple weeks earlier when he was recuperating from a heart attack. He knew medicine better than the doctors, so after a week of recovery he decided he had had enough of the hospital and called a cab in the early morning hours and went home, where he recuperated for another few days, after which time,  against doctor's order, he went back to work.

It was maybe a week or so later he dropped dead in the phone booth.”