Five Years On

Five years ago today, Dad passed away after a long life and at the end of a slow physical decline. I wrote a lengthy post about him last year and have been thinking about the phases of grieving that we experience. It's different for everyone, but in my case the heavy weight of it has lifted significantly in this last year. I was told in the beginning that things would lighten eventually, but when the loss is fresh it's hard to believe that this could ever be true. It's so personal, one's journey through grief and healing, and it's not linear, so patience is the key.

I live with many happy reminders of him and a lot of material treasures from his/our home, and can listen to his speaking and singing voice whenever I choose. In this I am luckier than some, as he was a performer and accustomed to documenting himself and family occasions. All this in the age before easy ways to record existed! He went to a good deal of trouble to set up tape recorders in order to capture Father's Day, birthday parties and other family events, admonishing the children not to touch the microphone and acting as announcer. It's a joy to hear my grandparents and even relatives that I never knew speak, joke and laugh, 70 years ago.

Thinking of you, remembering, and thankful for everything, always.

Thinking of You

Four years ago this night, I sat in a quiet small room at Lenox Hill Hospital with my brother as our father passed peacefully from this world into the next. It was the end of a two-year period that saw a steady decline as he dealt with some serious health issues, even though he was in remarkable shape for a man in his early nineties. He wanted to reach his 94th year, as his father died at that age. He almost made it - he was 93!

Celebrating Father's Day, 1950s, with father Sam and sister Dot

The daily life of a very elderly person isn't easy - the simple act of getting up from a chair is tricky and requires planning and determination, as does every little movement one thinks of making. The daily effort of dressing, eating and daily functions, even with help, can be very wearing. There was always some new adaptation to limitations that had to be learned, whether it was a new food or nutrition supplement or medical contraption to contend with. Fortunately, he was able to get around his large apartment with a sturdy walker, which he came to rely on and regard with an almost friendly attitude. He was a proud man and never wanted to be seen as old and feeble, and refused a wheelchair even though walking was difficult and this made his outside world's circumference much smaller.

Watching Central Park runners, using his walker, Fall 2009, wearing a fleece jacket that I made for him years ago that he jokingly called "the pill jacket. This fleece was an early version of the now-ubiquitous fabric that in those days sometimes pilled heavily after only a few wearings.

The end involved a fall, even though we tried to make home safe and guard against this often life-changing event. Three weeks and one hospital stay later, he slipped away quietly, with dignity, and I  believe, with relief. I sang to him (not well, as my singing days were long past, but with feeling, one of his favorite words) so he heard music as he left us. Dad was tired and was ready to go home to his parents and siblings. I only wish that I hadn't been so frightened of this idea at the time and had put less pressure on him to "get well" and accomplish the impossible like put on weight and get stronger, when the signs were right in front of me that all he wanted to do was calmly get on with the process of taking his leave without resistance. If I could do over anything in my life, it would be that.

I don't know how to attach a music file, which is a shame, as I would so love for you to hear Dad sing (he was a singer and teacher of music). There used to be a third party widget that I had on this blog that allowed just that, but the owners let it go and now it's unusable. If anyone can recommend one that will work with this Blogger format, please let me know.

Teaching class, possibly at the Ansonia Hotel, NYC, 1960s

Dad had an interesting array of "artistic and thoughtful" head shots made over his career, so I will close with them. Bravo, Maurice - you were splendid and I am so happy to have shared some wonderful times with you. I know that you are entertaining the Finkles up there and I hope that there is one giant, glittering piano in the sky that you are standing on top of, singing "Reaching for the Moon" as you did as a boy at the tail end of Vaudeville. Happy Days!

Aged about 15, first head shot

I love this one - it's all ahead of him, and he's so dapper. 

You think they retouch pictures today? What about this one? Photos taken by Bruno of Hollywood.

Serious, studious and wearing a bow tie

I prefer this photo of all of them. The star sapphire pinky ring was a gift from my mother

Casual plaid...and check out the eyebrows!

Maurice the beatnik - very Bohemian in a black turtleneck

This is the one he chose and had hundreds, if not thousands, of postcards made for mailing. 

Anyway, thinking of you with love, Dad, always.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today would have been your 96th birthday, Dad - what an incredible thought. You left us about 2.5 years ago, and are dearly missed every day.

I love how romantic this portrait photo is - it might even be your first professional head shot, taken in the late 1930s or early 1940s, when you began your career singing in the Trenton, New Jersey area.

Here are some pictures of you during your engagement with the Trenton Opera Association:

You as Benoit, the landlord, in LA BOHEME, in 1941. The beard can't hide how young you are for this role! 

This picture made it into the local papers. There you are (nice makeup!) with Nino Martini as Rodolfo and Lois Monroe as Mimi.

That MUST be Musetta in the huge bonnet. You are in the front row next to the conductor, Michael Kuttner, center, dressed for the party, no doubt!

You had a great press agent...probably your brother Albert, who had an ad agency. Handy!

And here you are, in Cadwalader Park, perhaps, with an unknown lady and Maestro Kuttner.
It was all ahead of you, Dad, and you look as if you can't wait to get on with it...your wonderful achievements and adventures. It was an amazing life, and here's to you, on your day.

Memorial Day Salute

Dad served at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, during World War II. He was a singer who desperately wanted to travel overseas to entertain the troops (with Marlene Dietrich), but his commanding officer didn't want to let him go, so that was that. He injured his feet during training and was considered unfit for service, so he kept busy writing musical shows and entertaining the soldiers locally. A technical sergeant, he also was an editor of the camp newspaper, "The Observation Post."

Thank you, Dad and the millions of men and women who serve their countries, and help make the world safer. Let us honor those who sacrificed their lives and limbs on this day.

Missing Dad

Here's an Etsy Treasury that I made for Dad. Father's Day approaches, and it will be another difficult milestone, but possibly a bit easier than last year. Some of the ties were actually his - I have so many that I can't keep them all. It was lovely thinking of what to put in, but hard to limit myself to the number of squares available for a 93-year-long life! To you, Dad, a small gesture of remembrance.

Click HERE to see it at Etsy.

Remembering Maurice Finnell

2 years ago tonight you left us, Dad. At this moment we were holding your hand, singing to you and wishing you peace as you quietly and with dignity made your way into The Big Movie Show In The Sky (a song you sang so well). You are loved and missed daily, your presence is felt often, and your lessons about life and music are remembered by not only your family, but your many students. This evening I attended a concert and imagined that you were there with me, listening to a composition by one of your favorite composers and long time friend, Leonard Bernstein. I didn't plan it that way, but it just happened...what a wonderful coincidence. In the photo is a marble apple given to you by a student, a brass G clef, a photo of you at Tanglewood, where you first met Maestro Bernstein and had a fantastic summer, and a portrait of you that I created from a photo taken at your favorite eatery, The Three Guys, on Madison Avenue, with your favorite beverage, coffee. It's not much of an altar, but I'm working on it. God Bless you, Dad.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Dad would have been 95 years old today - what an amazing thought! He very much wanted to make it to 94 - his father's age when he died, but he came close - he was 93 and a half.

Missing you every day, Dad, and thinking of you today and how we would be celebrating if we were still all together. A lot has changed since you left us, but you are lovingly remembered and cherished, and I hope that you will be listening when I read your card to you in a little while.

The picture was taken in the Bronx Botanical Gardens in the late 1960s.

One Year and Missing You

It's one year ago tonight that Dad left this earth, and to commemorate, I have added a playlist to the upper right-hand corner of this template of his marvelous singing and composing. Fortunately, there are many songs and spoken recordings available, and I have chosen but a few, which I will change out or add to from time to time. The golden age of popular song is well represented here, including one that Dad wrote, "A Lonely Town", which he also sings.

I'm very proud of him, and have spent the evening listening to his music and editing sound files that happily, are still new to me. Dad had 78 LPs made from reel-to-reel recordings, which I also found and had transferred to DVDs, a most worthwhile project. I hope that if you click on them, that you'll enjoy what you hear!

Dad's Yahrzeit

Miss You Like Crazy, Dad. One year ago today on the Hebrew Calendar.

My Father, Maurice Finnell, 1916-2010

Favorite beverage at his favorite place, The 3 Guys Coffee Shop

My dear father passed away on January 5, 2010 at age 93. He was a rare human being, a witty and erudite gentleman from another era and a Teacher of Music for over 50 years in New York City. He taught Sight-Singing and Musicianship and was a vocal coach to over 9,000 students, was on staff at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA), Turtle Bay Music School, The American Theatre Wing and at NYU's Gallatin Division, and also taught at Guild Studios at the Ansonia Hotel and at his private studio at home. He was still teaching until a few weeks before his death, and had planned to start again in January after recovering from a fall.

Born in Trenton, New Jersey to parents who immigrated from Eastern Europe and Russia, and the youngest of 8, he was musically precocious, and sang at age 16 in local vaudeville theaters. A baritone, he studied to be an opera singer, and sang in regional opera in his home town, but World War 2 interrupted his studies and he went off to serve at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. At the end of the War he resumed his musical training through the G.I. Bill by studying at the American Theater Wing in New York City. To supplement his singing career, he taught Sight-Singing, and was such a success that he abandoned his singing for teaching, and built an illustrious career. His students perform on Broadway, Television, Films and Opera, and include many famous names as well as others who continue to teach his methods. Dad was also active in choral work, conducting many High Holiday Services, in which I occasionally sang soprano. (I was tolerated by the other singers.) I grew up listening to solfeggio as I did my homework, and got a thrill seeing Broadway shows with my Dad that his students were appearing in. Later, as a costume designer, I had the pleasure of working with some of his former students as a professional in my own career.

Over the last five years I have been Dad's caregiver as his health issues mounted, and as any caregiver knows, it's a very demanding job, and not for everyone. Dad made it easier for me by remaining his gracious self, never wanting a fuss and spending too much time thanking me for things that he needn't have. It was a pleasure to do for you, Dad, and I only wish that we'd had a little more time together.

His funeral was this past Friday, and he is dearly missed and lovingly remembered by all, but probably most by me, as he was my best friend and advisor, in addition to being a loving and wise parent. Be at peace, Dad, you have earned your rest.

MTA: A memorial service celebrating his musical life was held on April 10 at the Friars Club in New York City.

Remembering Family Veterans

Thank you to all veterans, past and present, for your service and sacrifice. It's always a sobering day, remembering how many have served and died defending our country.

In my family, I thank my father, Maurice Finnell, who is happily, still with us at almost 94, who served at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, during WWII. I like this picture of him on leave at home in New Jersey one winter, where icicles behind him threaten to fall any second. He's wearing his army issue coat, which he still has and can probably fit into again!



The second picture is of my late uncle, Benjamin Kaufman, who served in WWI. Uncle Ben won the Congressional Medal of Honor and the Croix de Guerre, among other medals, for bravery in the Argonne Forest in France; you can read a little about him here and even more, here. He was an Executive Director and National Commander of the Jewish War Veterans, and was honored throughout his life for this achievement. Uncle Ben was a modest man and elderly by the time I came on the scene, and I so wish that I could have talked to him with an adult's sensibility about this seminal event in his long life. He traveled all over the world with his beloved Dorothy - they were a fabulous couple, devoted to each other, who worked hard to improve the lives of veterans and the disabled, and were the heart and soul of our family. I miss you both so much, Aunt Dot and Uncle Ben.

I have been updated by a cousin and want to remember my late uncle Albert Finkle, who also was a WWII veteran. My cousin Joel Popkin is a veteran of the Korean War at Fort Benning, Georgia, and his brother, David Popkin, served in the Army Dental Corps.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My beloved father turned 93 about 2 weeks ago, and we had a little family party for him. He's my best friend and business adviser, and as he ran his own successful business for many years, I've learned a lot from him. Love you, Dad, and may this year be a wonderful one in every way.

Nobody eats cake anymore, or admits to, so we had half a small cake left over! It was a strawberry shortcake, but the side facing the camera got stuck against the box, and that was my failing attempt to fix it. Dad's getting a little help from a grandson, but he blew out all of his candles!

Happy New Year!

It's the last day of this bizarre and often difficult year, but it has been a great one for me as far as creativity is concerned. I had a wonderful year on Etsy, selling three times as many pieces in this year as I did in my first year and a half. Had it not been for the economy, I would have exceeded my revised goals for the year, I'm sure. I've learned a lot and have some new plans for 2009, and have to thank my wonderful customers, friends and especially family for their support and encouragement. I want to thank my Dad, who has been my staunchest supporter and advisor. Thank you Dad - you are not on-line, but I want the people to know how much I appreciate your wisdom and love.



I just made these earrings and they're bright and festive for the New Year. It's snowing lightly again in NYC this morning, which dusts everything with gentle optimism, and I wish everyone a Happy New Year celebration, whether out at a party or cozy at home, surrounded with people or alone in reflection. It's a New Year, an uncertain one, to be sure, but I hope it will be filled with unexpected blessings!