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case, dealing with them would make difficult things more difficult, but it was something that had to be done. When, for instance, it was clear that Phyllis and I were splitting, I made a pilgrimage to my parents’ retire- ment condo in Somers, New York, to tell them in person. My mother’s reaction was not surprising. Just as she needed a cover story when I dropped out of Amherst (“Harvey came down with a bad case of mono- nucleosis, probably because he was working himself to death”), after getting over her initial shock, she concluded that Phyllis and I had decided to have a “trial separation” and that that was what she was going to tell her friends to avoid the humiliation. No surprise there.
My father, for his part, shocked me. His first words to me, and all I recall from him during the visit, did not exactly evince understanding, sympathy, or compassion: He approached me, out of earshot of my mother, leaned in, and said, with some degree of assurance and judg- ment: “So. Were you f**king around?” I was completely taken aback. I had then and have now no idea where the remark came from, but it left me feeling that at that point my father had little or no respect for the situation or me. It saddened me.
Now the three of us are in my Manhattan apartment, and I am tak- ing pleasure in restoring my parents’ confidence, demonstrating that I’m safe and living decently. I am also proudly demonstrating that I was capable of putting my life together again and hoping that my mother would appreciate my ability to decorate sensibly. But all that I recall is my father angrily taking in the scene, shaking his head, and saying, without offering the slightest hint of help and with a tone that bordered on disgust, “You’re spending money like a drunken sailor!”
That didn’t exactly cheer me up, and I wasn’t about to explain to my father that, based upon what I was earning, I could well afford it (I had already been a partner for more than seven years), even though I had to borrow to make the purchases. Anyway, did my father think that I was supposed to move from my house in Scarsdale to the lawyer’s “garret” and have the kids sleep and eat on the floor when they visited?
When they recovered from the experience of seeing my marriage in tatters, my parents did give me some help, but even that came with a
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