Julie Metz on her father's long life and big birthday. PLUS, an open thread on the centenarians in our lives: Do you have people 100 years old—or older—in your life? Or...are you 100 or older?
Julie, I'm sure your father must have known my great uncle Paul Bacon who was a book cover artist in NY during the same time frame! What a small world, and what a wonderful man your father is!
Paul Bacon was, indeed, a very close friend, someone I knew from childhood onward, a man I admired as a designer and jazz mentor. My dad adored him and he is very much missed.
So glad to meet you here...and maybe it's not such a coincidence after all...this being a lovely space devoted to writing and reading and art and music!
I believe two of those photographs were taken by my father Seymour Mednick. Frank and Seymour met in art school. From then on they were lifelong best friends. Frank’s birthday is July 3rd. My father died on July 5th. I was tasked by my father with telling Frank, in person, that he had won a bet he hadn’t known he’d made. My father had bet, to himself, that he would outlive Frank who was two years his senior. The day before my father died he gave me those marching orders. A farewell and a good jest in a single sentence. I made my way uptown and managed to get out the announcement. Frank said “I lost my best friend. You lost your father. What do you say we join forces” Frank is the greatest. And a hell of a landscape painter too by the way.
Thanks Arthur! Yes, those are your dad's photos, among my very favorites. He had such a soulful way of using natural light. My dad was just reminiscing about the trip he and Seymour made to Italy after my mom died. That was when they were sprightly 80 year olds!
Love love LOVE Julie's story. It brought tears to my eyes. What a fine, deep life Frank has led -- "an analog life" -- and is still living it! That generation is all but gone now. My mother was born in 1916, survived the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918, sent her brand-new husband off to WWII, lost five babies and birthed three, moved all over the country for her man's career. The night my dad died, in their 65th year of marriage, I thought we'd lose her, she was so bereft. But she lived a startling 12 more years and died in her sleep, in her own bed, in her own home, just a couple of months after the 100th birthday party we threw for her. She's often in my dreams.
I don’t know anyone 100 or older but I remember Frank and Eve from when I worked at Simon & Schuster in the late 80s, when I was fresh out of college. Wonderful story.
my pops is 101. my husband and i visit him every morning and he tells us his stories from WWII and we act out his plays for him and we play catch with a ball that's in the shape of the world. we toss the world around 101 times. we all know how lucky we are to have all of this time together.
What a beautiful tribute to the author's father. I was especially struck by the birthday photo of the author standing next to her dad, both of them elders with one being very elder. Then, at the end, that sweet photo of the author as a small child embracing her dad and being embraced in return. The stages of life unveiled and both of you lucky enough to experience them together within the long arc of a human lifetime.
I loved this. ❤️ I haven’t had much time the last month or so to read Oldster, but I’m glad I did today with my morning coffee. I had a relative in Italy who we called Zia Vittoria, even though she wasn’t my aunt. When I last saw her she was 103 and died at 107. She had a sharp memory and lived in her own tidy apartment (with the help of an aide) in a small town where everyone knew her and stopped by for visits. Most people I’ve known here who aren’t ambulatory are very isolated at home (visitors usually need to travel) or among strangers at care facilities. She seemed quite happy, though I imagine losing all of her children and peers by that age had to be hard.
I love Julie's story and can so relate to it. Although I was born in Kingston, we grew up with family all over the Westside, as it was in the 60's, 70s and such. I especially loved the photo at the beach. Thank you, Julie, for nostalgitizing my day today!
We are not in the best century. Being born in 1957 I saw the best of times. For many reasons we are on a decline and it’s so easy to recognize this. It’s only going to get worse sadly but we are on our way out and leaving a mess behind. Too many ways to elaborate on
Thank you Sari for creating this fantastic space to share stories about growing older and the thread of our existence.
Thank you for the kind words, Julie! And for your contributions. <3
Julie, I'm sure your father must have known my great uncle Paul Bacon who was a book cover artist in NY during the same time frame! What a small world, and what a wonderful man your father is!
Paul Bacon was, indeed, a very close friend, someone I knew from childhood onward, a man I admired as a designer and jazz mentor. My dad adored him and he is very much missed.
That is amazing!! My grandfather Jack Bacon was his brother and I loved him so much. We miss him every day. What a fantastic coincidence!
So glad to meet you here...and maybe it's not such a coincidence after all...this being a lovely space devoted to writing and reading and art and music!
I believe two of those photographs were taken by my father Seymour Mednick. Frank and Seymour met in art school. From then on they were lifelong best friends. Frank’s birthday is July 3rd. My father died on July 5th. I was tasked by my father with telling Frank, in person, that he had won a bet he hadn’t known he’d made. My father had bet, to himself, that he would outlive Frank who was two years his senior. The day before my father died he gave me those marching orders. A farewell and a good jest in a single sentence. I made my way uptown and managed to get out the announcement. Frank said “I lost my best friend. You lost your father. What do you say we join forces” Frank is the greatest. And a hell of a landscape painter too by the way.
Oh, thank you for sharing this. So sorry for your loss.
Thanks Arthur! Yes, those are your dad's photos, among my very favorites. He had such a soulful way of using natural light. My dad was just reminiscing about the trip he and Seymour made to Italy after my mom died. That was when they were sprightly 80 year olds!
Love love LOVE Julie's story. It brought tears to my eyes. What a fine, deep life Frank has led -- "an analog life" -- and is still living it! That generation is all but gone now. My mother was born in 1916, survived the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918, sent her brand-new husband off to WWII, lost five babies and birthed three, moved all over the country for her man's career. The night my dad died, in their 65th year of marriage, I thought we'd lose her, she was so bereft. But she lived a startling 12 more years and died in her sleep, in her own bed, in her own home, just a couple of months after the 100th birthday party we threw for her. She's often in my dreams.
Thanks so much for reading!
Blessings on you and your dad!
you are so fortunate to have her in your dreams !
I don’t know anyone 100 or older but I remember Frank and Eve from when I worked at Simon & Schuster in the late 80s, when I was fresh out of college. Wonderful story.
Jen, you have so many connections to people featured here! Amazing.
It’s kind of crazy. Only spent five years in publishing (and not all the connections are even from that time!).
It really is. I love it.
Thanks for reading!
my pops is 101. my husband and i visit him every morning and he tells us his stories from WWII and we act out his plays for him and we play catch with a ball that's in the shape of the world. we toss the world around 101 times. we all know how lucky we are to have all of this time together.
What a beautiful tribute to the author's father. I was especially struck by the birthday photo of the author standing next to her dad, both of them elders with one being very elder. Then, at the end, that sweet photo of the author as a small child embracing her dad and being embraced in return. The stages of life unveiled and both of you lucky enough to experience them together within the long arc of a human lifetime.
So glad you enjoyed.
What a fantastic, joyous piece!
Beautiful! I can't wait to be 100!
Same! I just hope I can afford to live that long! xo
LOL!
Loved this essay so much. Happy healthy birthday to Frank!
Loved Frank’s story and your reflections Julie. 👏🏼🎉
Love what you are doing thank you.
<3
I loved this. ❤️ I haven’t had much time the last month or so to read Oldster, but I’m glad I did today with my morning coffee. I had a relative in Italy who we called Zia Vittoria, even though she wasn’t my aunt. When I last saw her she was 103 and died at 107. She had a sharp memory and lived in her own tidy apartment (with the help of an aide) in a small town where everyone knew her and stopped by for visits. Most people I’ve known here who aren’t ambulatory are very isolated at home (visitors usually need to travel) or among strangers at care facilities. She seemed quite happy, though I imagine losing all of her children and peers by that age had to be hard.
Oh, wow, 107. Yes, living that long is a blessing but it also means losing so many people close to you, even...your own children. <3
Sari, one of Margie's best friends from NYC , elli is turning 100 on Thanksgiving!
They went to elementary school and thru NYU together! All of our families are as close as "blood" relatives!!
Love ya Jo
Oh, I love that!!! Thanks for sharing, Jo! xoxo
Do you want pictures?!
How are you?
Is this only seen by you or is it on your Substack?!
💕
Text me! (Yes, all 69K subscribers can see this! Lol.)
What a lovely, uplifting essay to begin the day! Thank you, Julie Metz! And Sari, of course.
Thank you for reading!
I love Julie's story and can so relate to it. Although I was born in Kingston, we grew up with family all over the Westside, as it was in the 60's, 70s and such. I especially loved the photo at the beach. Thank you, Julie, for nostalgitizing my day today!
Nostalgitizing! A new verb! :)
Thank you for reading!
I too love the beach photo!! such love...
We are not in the best century. Being born in 1957 I saw the best of times. For many reasons we are on a decline and it’s so easy to recognize this. It’s only going to get worse sadly but we are on our way out and leaving a mess behind. Too many ways to elaborate on
When Frank was born in 1925, he would grow up against the backdrop of the Great Depression and a world war.