The Talk with My Dad I Wish I’d Had
| July 1, 2025As I was writing a memoir, I gained a new emotional perspective on my family, and especially on my father
Recently, as I was writing a memoir, I gained a new emotional perspective on my family, and especially on my father. The exercise of revisiting my early life then led me to envision the conversation I would have with him now.
Then. After working all night as manager in a bakery, my dad would come home to our apartment on 22nd Street in Brooklyn and settle into his morning routine. He’d brew some coffee, sit down at the kitchen table, and begin dunking buttered rolls into hot coffee and immersing himself in the Daily News. I often complained that he should have been reading the more sophisticated New York Times, or the Forward, to get more news about the situation of the Jews in Europe during the war.
Now. Dad, I’m happy to see how much you’re enjoying your roll, coffee, and newspaper. I’m sure the Daily News is fun to read. I appreciate how hard you worked all night to put a roof over our heads and provide for us. Our home is filled with the aroma of those fresh onion rolls and the sliced Jewish rye bread that you always remember to bring home for us. We savor those — so generously buttered. Please enjoy your few moments of relaxation.
Then. My aunts and uncles had a poor opinion of my dad because he didn’t earn as much money as they did, and they made it known with cryptic remarks. He most likely developed a poor image of himself and was self-conscious in their company. He might have felt that we shared that impression of him, since we were certainly aware of the murmurs. Why didn’t I defend him? Was I too young to understand and speak out against all of those uncaring adults? Or not strong enough?
Now. How many in the mishpachah had to go through what you endured? Forget their gossip and jibes. We lack nothing and have everything — a dad like you is a blessing for all of us. You are very special, Dad. You suffered through the loss of a child who was only eight years old, and you are now raising three other wonderful kids with caring and love. That takes great emotional strength and determination. Please feel proud of yourself.
Then. You must have grieved terribly after losing your firstborn child, Rita. Such a beautiful girl, your only daughter at the time. You and Mom kept your deep grief to yourselves, not burdening us kids with the trauma. I was told years later that I was devastated and uncontrollably emotional. I was only five; she was my only sibling, my older sister and playmate. My grief became suppressed and surfaced later with other deaths, like yours and my wife Andrea’s.
Now. Please tell me about Rita. What kind of kid she was, my relationship with her, how I handled her death. It’s important for me now to delve into the reaction that I experienced then. Also, don’t feel that you have to protect us so much. I’m certain it’s out of love, but perhaps you would be relieved if you unburdened your terribly restrained sadness. Let’s talk.
Then. My sisters and I often reminisce about the care that you showed Mom so openly. After your long night’s work, you gently shooed Mom away from the sink, donned her apron, and washed all the dishes.
Now. Dad, you are showing me love. The warmth you are instilling in me will be transmitted to my own future family. What a tremendous legacy. I hope you draw immense fulfillment from that. Our family is thriving together. You really know what’s important in a family. Thank you, Dad!
Then. During the rise of Nazism in Europe, I remember being assailed with racial slurs and getting bullied by the German kids my age in our neighborhood. I recall running home teary-eyed, feeling defeated. You gave me a few token slaps and sent me back out to defend myself. I ferociously attacked the mob, and after a brief encounter, they ran off for their survival. Victory! They weren’t so tough after all.
Now. Thanks, Dad, you taught me an important lesson — how to protect myself and survive in a challenging world. I have held on to this throughout my life. It has given me the strength and perseverance to prevail in many situations. You have been a role model for me in so many ways and have taught me a great deal about life and especially about love. I hope you are proud of your achievements as a father. I will always love you.
Epilogue. I’m aware that my father can’t hear this, but somehow, I feel that he knows — and I know, which makes me feel better.
I love you, Dad.
Sidney J. Winawer, M.D., D.Sc.(Hon) is the chief emeritus of the GI/Nutrition Service and the chair of the Cancer Prevention Program at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. He led the study that proved that colonoscopic removal of polyps prevents colorectal cancer.
(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1068)
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