My childhood friend Ruby had just graduated from Cornell with a PhD in biochemistry. Her employer had provided a spacious two bedroom apartment for her and her husband. They inspected the new housing while still living at Ithaca – drove in in the morning and returned in the afternoon. It’s long 10 hours turnaround.
They had many books and needed place to story them. My in-laws still had their house on Cherry Avenue in Flushing with a vacant garage. So the books moved in.
It’s 1992 when my father-in-law turned 60. I engineered a surprise birthday party for him at the club house on the roof top. The excuse I used to get my father-in-law over was that they invited them for dinner to thank them for the storage. It worked like a charm. He didn’t suspect anything at all, was really surprised when he saw all his friends and relatives there. The only glitch was Jonathan’s Dad came late, and he ran into my father-in-law in the hall way leading up to the club. Ah well.
Many times when I cross the Queensboro Bridge, also known as 59th Street Bridge into the city, as this First Avenue building came into view, the birthday party crawling into my mind. Next year would be his 80th. So much has changes since.