Opening a weekly newspaper I receive, my heart sunk. A man I knew and admired for much of my life, albeit peripherally, died and a full-page farewell was printed exclaiming the loss. He was truly and absolutely loved and adored. Although I knew Michael Oksenhorn was sick, I had not heard he died, and sadness crept over me. He owned an upscale jewelry store in my part of New Jersey, and although I actually worked through college for one of his competitors, I always knew he had great pride in his popular business. More personally for me, I babysat for his children when they were young, idolized his wife, Deena, and falling off to sleep, my thoughts returned to a time when life was so different.
I was fourteen years old when I babysat or acted as a “Mother’s helper.” That entailed pushing a baby carriage around the swim club where everyone spent their summers. There were tennis courts, a big swimming pool adjacent to a smaller one, the Nosh-a-teria where we sat and flirted with the older boys who worked there. Brookside Swim Club was our summer pleasure. It was not the real world, just a means of escaping and bonding for eight weeks. I took care of many babies and toddlers because my aunt and uncle were among the crowd with children of that age. My name was provided to their friends, since I had two younger sisters, and thus, could be trusted with other children. I saved every penny I earned for the “item” of the school year to be featured in the August issue of Seventeen Magazine. I devoured that extra-thick issue, savoring every perfect page of fashion and teen advice. One year, the item to covet was the perfect Adler sox, while another pricey year, it was the perfect cordovan-colored penny loafers. Later that year, at a Temple dance, I met my husband, Bruce, the man with whom I would fall in love and marry. I had that in common with Deena, in that she met her husband, Michael, at the same age of 14, barely a teenager. Her story was so romantic, falling in love so young. Little did I know I would experience the same dizzying feeling just a few months later!
Sad things happened, as well, at Brookside, and I believe my desire to support others may have been honed there. An older teen, a “cabana boy” had cancer of the bone in his leg and it was amputated. I wanted more than anything to help him. But Bobby K. was determined to do his job, and I watched from our cabana and secretly clapped when I saw him attend to his responsibilities. I stood at the ready, my eyes following his every move, however, in case he needed me. Although I knew terrible things happened, seeing it in front of me had a tremendous impact, one I have obviously never forgotten.
Life is not a game of fairness, and as I return to reality, I am reminded of that. If it was, Michael would be with Deena and Bobby would not have suffered such an excruciating loss. We would not need Support Groups to guide or bolster us, nor would we fear turning on the news. We would cheer for good and turn our backs on evil. I could go on and on, but the truth is, as my 98 year old darling mother-in-law, Eleanor tells us…”life isn’t fair, and it isn’t fair that it isn’t fair!” She is right…she is so right!
I am so sorry to hear this. I too knew Michael, having been a long time customer. Joel and I had many enjoyable conversations with him through the years.
Too much sadness and loss….I didn’t know he died….I will find is obit….thank you Ellyn.
My God could I relate to your latest article! It always amazes me that a person you admire has so much in common with yourself. As usual, great article by a terrific writer.
Ellyn,
I loved reading this nostalgic piece. I can picture a younger you perched and ready to help the young lifeguard who was determined to carry on despite his amputated leg. You had compassion and the skills to help others even then. Although Eleanor is right, people like you may the journey sweeter.