My parents' move to Syracuse in 1952 took me away from my extended family, and it removed me from the ethnic world I was often part of, especially on my mother's side of the family. Many Sundays each summer, Turks and Greeks would gather in
Van Cortland Park, with tons of food, music and dancing, like out of a movie. The kids would run free, and
Paul and I in particular would explore the park.
My grandfather, Isaac, was an accomplished
darbuka player (I am told he earned money playing in Turkish nightclubs in lower Manhattan at night). Here he is, below, with Rae, my mother, and my grandmother Molly looking on:
Betty and my grandparents.
My grandparents dancing.
My grandfather doing the DJ honors. I wonder if that's Paul, Harry and Bud's back on the left?
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