Joel

My eldest brother, Joel David Lasky, was born in Syracuse, NY on June 30, 1932.  Sadly, he died in Dallas, TX on June 30, 2023, just 9 days ago.

Joel  was 13 years and 38 days older than I am.  I missed his bar mitzvah.  

There is a professional photo of the four Lasky boys taken when I was a baby.  I am sitting on Joel's lap.  How beautiful!  

My earliest clear recollection of Joel was in the late summer of 1950 (I was five) when our family of six all piled into our Buick or Cadillac automobile (he sat in front, me in the back as always) for a drive from our home in Oswego, NY to Hanover, NH to drop off Joel as a freshman at Dartmouth College.  He spent the night at the dorm, the rest of us at a nearby hotel.  We returned to Hanover four years later for his graduation.

On that last trip to Dartmouth, Joel introduced me to Lou Turner, captain of the college's football team.  He told Lew I knew everything about sports.  Lew asked me a question I didn't know the answer to.  I hope I didn't disappoint Joel too much.  

Prior to 1950, I vaguely remember Joel occupying the small single bedroom on the second floor of our house at 30 East Oneida Street.  The rest of us three brothers shared a much larger bedroom next to his.  He had privacy, but little space.  We had space, but no privacy.  

Joel returned home for visits during vacation time from college and from his time in the US Air Force after college as an Intelligence Officer in England and New Mexico.  He brought his unique brand of humor to a household badly in need of it.  I very much looked forward to each of his visits.

One example of his humor was when he shoved my brother Paul's bed (with Paul, a deep sleeper, asleep on it) into our bedroom's very large walk-in closet and shutting the door.  Joel, Ted and I laughed when Paul awoke later from inside the closet.

At Christmas vacation 1952 (I was seven), our family of six drove in two separate cars from Oswego to Miami Beach to visit my grandparents.  When we stopped in St. Augustine, FL for dinner, puss was oozing out of my right knee from an infection I got from a wooden sliver as a result of falling on our bathroom floor.

Joel, our mother and I went to the local hospital.  Luckily, penicillin had been discovered and made available some ten years before.  Joel and I were sitting on an examining table when a nurse walked in the room with the biggest hypodermic needle I have ever seen.  

I asked Joel, "Who's that for?"

His classic response was, "Guess!"

Having guessed correctly, I threw a temper tantrum requiring Joel and three others to hold me down for the injection into my buttocks.  End of infection.

My father was not a very communicative man.  In fact, to me he was intimidating.  As a result, I looked to Joel as a role model and father figure.  He did his best, but our time together was very limited. 

When I was fourteen, Joel married Judy Ackerman in Rochester, NY.  I got to wear my first tuxedo and escort my grandmother down the aisle.  

On my sixteenth birthday (1961), Joel and Judy gave me a puppy.  I never had my very own dog before.  I remember a cousin of Judy's had a beautiful cocker spaniel and I mentioned my desire to have a dog.  My mother said no, but she didn't deny me my birthday present.  I named the dog Trixie and we were together for two years until I went to college.  

Later that same year, Joel and Judy made me an uncle for the first time.  Her name is Cindy Quint and she is today a grandmother.

While I was still in high school, Joel encouraged and instructed me on how to lift weights as a form of exercise, something he took up at Dartmouth.  I did it for a short time while he was around, but I was too lazy to continue when he was no longer there.

When I got married (1968) and moved to New York City, Joel and Judy and Cindy lived first in Flushing, Queens and later in Commack Long Island where we often visited.

In Commack, Joel and Judy joined an amateur dramatic club that put on the play, Please Don't Eat The Daises.  He was the director, but at the last minute, had to fill in as the lead character.  Good job!

In 1972, my ex-wife Bonita and I travelled by car across the USA and stopped over one night in Dallas.  We were very impressed and mentioned that to Joel.  Three years later he and his family moved to Dallas.

Over the years, we visited each other on happy occasions: Joel's daughters' and granddaughter's weddings in Dallas, my children's bar mitzvahs and my daughter's wedding in New York.  We got together in Florida for our mother's eightieth birthday party.  After I moved to Brazil, Cristina and I visited Joel and his family in Dallas a number of times.

In December 2014, I started my weekly blog.  Joel was one of my readers.  As he was a professional writer, I was very appreciative when Joel said I wrote well. 

In April of this year, I made a WhatsApp video call to Joel.  We could see and talk to each other directly.  We each recalled the now comical event in the St. Augustine hospital (mentioned above) that occurred seventy years ago.  I told him I loved him.  And now I will forever miss him.