I have some wonderful memories of Zaidy.
One Friday while we were still living in Brooklyn, before Yehuda was born, Dovid and I were supposed to spend a Shabbos in Hicksville. At the time I was working at the Brookdale Hospital Medical Center on Rockaway Avenue, a very busy main street, not a great neighborhood. Dovid was attending graduate school at CW Post out in Greenvale, Long Island.
The big question was how would I get out to Hicksville for Shabbos? Dovid had driven out to CW Post, an hour drive. To come back to Brooklyn to pick me up would mean another hour drive to Brooklyn and then a third hour driving out to Hicksville. That's a lot of driving time.
Another possibility was for me to take the bus from the hospital to the subway, the subway to the Long Island Railroad, the Long Island Railroad out to Hicksville, and then have someone pick me up from the station.
The solution presented itself in the form of a funeral. Baruch Dayan HaEmet. Zaidy had a funeral in Brooklyn that Friday morning and they were passing by Brookdale Hospital on the way to the cemetery. I was waiting at the curb. Zaidy pulled over and stopped the funeral and traffic. I got into his car and we drove out to the cemetery. I waited in the car while Zaidy "did his thing" and then we drove out to Hicksville.
A simple solution and a wonderful memory.
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