The man on the left is my father, Art Berman. The year is 1953, and he’s an 18 year old college freshman, posing with his roommate Stan.
Just 8 years before, he watched his dad die of lung cancer and I can see the sadness in his eyes that never left him. Mysteriously, my Dad has decided to escape from the Bronx and he’s found himself in Yellow Springs Ohio. The two guys standing along US 68 make me think of Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady.
In three more years he’ll be married, and in four years a father. I’ll be there at his graduation. This is as free as he’s ever going to be. In less than 45 years he’ll be gone, and now Antioch College is gone too. But at this moment the road stretches out ahead and the path is unknown to him.
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2 comments:
What a lovely post and so full of memories encapsulated in so few words. Walking the campus is such a sad thing :(
Somehow I missed this post. Beautifully written, so poignant. I'm thinking about them both now, what life must have been like as a young father. Many challenges and demands and I'm sure also many rewards...
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