Thank you for this tender reminiscence founded in mutual respect, appreciation and love despite vast differences in age and other obvious mentionables.
Just yesterday, a friend and I sat on a bench opposite what was once The Excelsior, just watching people go by. How much richer that experience would have been had we read your piece beforehand. And sadly, how prescient Uncle Hans was in writing a play about mass hypnosis. But he is in you and now we know that.
I hope most of you see this. Thank you so much for your kind words concerning "Godfather's Hotel." I feel very blessed and thankful. What more can an old writer ask for? 💝
I feel like this could be a screenplay. So evocative and poignant. They don't make people like Uncle Hans anymore. And Mama Gonzales sounds pretty cool herself.
Thank you, Mr. Gonzales, for that personal and deeply evocative piece. And thank you, Sari, for making this such a rewarding place to spend time - the breadth and variety of what we get to read here astonishes me.
What a beautiful piece. Time, memories, and those elusive moments with those we love that make an indelible imprint on our lives. I was there with you. Thank you for sharing, Mr Gonzales. And Sari, this experience of reading such a human piece of writing on a cloudy summer morning is why I subscribe. The writing found here makes me remember that human connection is everything. Thank you.
This story takes me to a time in the past when my mother's aunt lived in Hollywood Ca in the 50's-early 60's My aunt was a nurse, but retired. Her second husband, Uncle to me, was a writer for the Herald Examiner in LA. He covered the horse races at Santa Anita. When we were visiting we would sit in the living room in front of their tiny black and white and watch...horse races! Think he was a bookie on the side. Shhh! Anyway, loved his study, his desk. When he passed I got to have it.
What an absolutely lovely memory of a very interesting man and a specific moment in time! Also, for me, a nice reminder of the Beaver Lake House too. Although we lived nearby and rode our houses down their road, I had forgotten all about it. When I was an intern at the Woodstock Playhouse in the 1960s, theatre owner Edgar Rosenblum said that the refugee German Jews who vacationed at the hotels that catered to them, especially around Fleischmanns, were his mainstay. Always interested in culture, they could be relied on to buy season tickets to the Playhouse…and the Turnau Opera and the Maverick concerts as well.
Thank you for this tender reminiscence founded in mutual respect, appreciation and love despite vast differences in age and other obvious mentionables.
Just yesterday, a friend and I sat on a bench opposite what was once The Excelsior, just watching people go by. How much richer that experience would have been had we read your piece beforehand. And sadly, how prescient Uncle Hans was in writing a play about mass hypnosis. But he is in you and now we know that.
I hope most of you see this. Thank you so much for your kind words concerning "Godfather's Hotel." I feel very blessed and thankful. What more can an old writer ask for? 💝
I feel like this could be a screenplay. So evocative and poignant. They don't make people like Uncle Hans anymore. And Mama Gonzales sounds pretty cool herself.
Thank you, Mr. Gonzales, for that personal and deeply evocative piece. And thank you, Sari, for making this such a rewarding place to spend time - the breadth and variety of what we get to read here astonishes me.
Wow, I love this! I love how much attention they paid to each other's work. Taking each other so seriously is a gift.
What a beautiful piece. Time, memories, and those elusive moments with those we love that make an indelible imprint on our lives. I was there with you. Thank you for sharing, Mr Gonzales. And Sari, this experience of reading such a human piece of writing on a cloudy summer morning is why I subscribe. The writing found here makes me remember that human connection is everything. Thank you.
What a beautiful story of love and friendship.
Your description of Uncle Hans and his apartment is detailed with such care and the final paragraphs when everything is gone are
heart breaking. ❤️
That. Was. Incredible.
<3
The people that make us who we are. Beautiful essay!
A moving tribute and a reminder of how we have a chance to Influence younger people, knowingly or unknowingly. Thank you.
Yes!
Oh - I just love this piece. It touches on so many themes and illuminates the importance of caring adults in the lives of children.
This story takes me to a time in the past when my mother's aunt lived in Hollywood Ca in the 50's-early 60's My aunt was a nurse, but retired. Her second husband, Uncle to me, was a writer for the Herald Examiner in LA. He covered the horse races at Santa Anita. When we were visiting we would sit in the living room in front of their tiny black and white and watch...horse races! Think he was a bookie on the side. Shhh! Anyway, loved his study, his desk. When he passed I got to have it.
The persistence of memory is an amazingly personal thing. Thank you for sharing a bit of what you value so much that it remains fresh and vibrant.
Oh wow has this made me so nostalgic today, thinking of my own quasi-relatives who had such an impact on me. Thanks for sharing this essay.
What an absolutely lovely memory of a very interesting man and a specific moment in time! Also, for me, a nice reminder of the Beaver Lake House too. Although we lived nearby and rode our houses down their road, I had forgotten all about it. When I was an intern at the Woodstock Playhouse in the 1960s, theatre owner Edgar Rosenblum said that the refugee German Jews who vacationed at the hotels that catered to them, especially around Fleischmanns, were his mainstay. Always interested in culture, they could be relied on to buy season tickets to the Playhouse…and the Turnau Opera and the Maverick concerts as well.
This was a tremendous recollection. Thank you for sharing Uncle Hans with us. I'm so glad he taught you to write!