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Fern Park , Florida
June 14, 2019     Heritage Florida Jewish News
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June 14, 2019

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HERITAGE FLORIDA JEWISH NEWS, JUNE 14, 2019 PAGE 7A !! i! ii Event chair Carina Gerscovich, board member Jason Mendelsohn, and CEO Nancy Ludin. Team members from Brookdale Senior Living, a Jewish Pavilion sponsor. Board member Elliott Davis and Judy Kahan-Davis. Christi Ashby and Kate Slentz of Orange Appeal magazine. By Lisa Levine board member Carina Ger- scovich for the second year Asellout crowd of 225 Jew- and topped last year's record ish Pavilion supporters and attendance and proceeds. Citrus Club members gath- "Carinareallyputherheart eredinearlyJuneforafunand and soul into making this relaxednetworkingandsocial event such a great success," event in the Citrus Club's said Pavilion CEO Nancy opulent downtown setting. Ludin. "She is so committed The 18th-floor sunset views to our mission of enriching providedagorgeousbackdrop seniors' lives, and we are for the evening's festivities, very fortunate to have such which included drinks and a capable and hardworking small bites, a whiskey tast- leader on our team." ing, raffle prizes, and a few Ludin also praised the ef- premium silent auction items, forts of board member Jason including club-level tickets Mendelsohnandthankedthe to upcoming Jennifer Lopez Jewish Chamber of Corn- and Jonas Brothers concerts merce for teaming up with at Amway Arena. the Jewish Pavilion to pro- The event was chaired by mote the event. ememberin By Marilyn Shapiro Ten years ago this week, my father and I spent our last Father's Day together. My mother and he had moved up to an independent living facility in Upstate New York four miles from me. Two years later, his health had deteriorated, and he passed away November 2008. People may remember Bill Cohen for his stores in Keeseville, his community service, his pride in his family. What I remem- ber-and treasure--about Dad were the stories about him that my siblings and I share again and again. Many of them centered on boats, bugs, and bats. Having spent summers as a child on Lake Champlain, my father always dreamed of own- ing a boat. In 1965, he pur- chased a pink indoor-outdoor that my mother immediately "christened" Nisht Neytik, Yiddish for "not necessary." During the summer, Dad rented space on a public dock in Port Kent, five miles from our house. And each Sunday, Dad would coerce us all to take a ride--when we could go. Unfortunately, the boat spent more time in the shop than in the water. And when it was in the water, Dad was always panicking about the weather or the gas situation. One time, we took a long ride out to a nearby island, and my father realized that we might not have enough gas to return. We were nervous wrecks until we finally pulled back into our slot. In 1966, my parents bought a cottage on Willsboro Bay. Soon after, Dad purchased an outboard with slightly better reliability. Larry and I were married in 1974, and in 1975, we went up to the lake for Memorial Day. Dad gave Larry a pair of waders Dad had picked up second hand and asked him to put up the docks for the boat. Before Larrywas knee deep, the waders-riddled with tiny holes filled up with water. Think Lake Champlain in May, when the water temperature barely reaches 60 degrees. Larry has never forgiven him. For the next several years, the boat was anchored either on the dock or on an anchor about 200 feet from shore. Dad still loved boating, but only if the weather was perfect. For hours before we were sup- posed to go out, Dad kept his ear near the radio next to his chair, which was set for the weather station. If there was the slightest chance of rain, he refused to go through with the ride. When we children (and eventually our spouses) were old enough to go on our own, Dad installed a CB radio in the outboard so he could check up on us every few minutes. In a blatant act of defiance, Larry would turn it off. Dad never forgave him. As much as my father loved boats he despised bugs. He kept a can of Raid next to his favorite chair on the back porch of the cottage and used it frequently--and liberally-- to kill any passing fly or wasp. When the Raid wasn't enough, he got an outdoor fogger, which he used with the same careless abandon that he used with the aerosol can. One beautiful summer night, my sister Laura was putting food on the table when my father passed by the outside of the open window with the fogger in his hand. A potent cloud of pesticide permeated the air. Laura never forgave him. When the Raid and the fog- ger failed, Dad called in the Big Guns. He purchased an electric bug zapper and hung it on the limb of the huge oak in front of the cottage. As the sun set across the lake, we heard from inside the cottage a quick zap as the first bug hit the grid, then a second, then 10, then 20. Before we knew it, every bug between Willsboro and Burlington five miles across the lake was headed for the bug zapper. It took about 30 minutes for the 10-foot machine to become completely clogged. So much for Dad's war against the bugs. Dad was more successful with bats. The cottage was always a gathering place for the family. One summer weekend, Larry and I were in one bedroom; my sister Bobbie and her husband, Emil, were in another; and Laura was in another. In the middle of the night, I headed to the bathroom. As I reached for the toilet paper, I realized that a bat was sitting on the top of the roll. Trying not to wake anyone, I ran back into our bedroom and shook Larry awake. "There's a bat in the bath- room!" I whispered. Larry awoke groggily with a "Wha t?" He climbed out The Cohen family, 2007: (l-r) Bill, Fran, Jay, Marilyn, Bobbie, and Laura. of bed, checked out the bat in "Does Raid work on bats? Now everyone go back to the dim light of the nightlight, "How about the fogger? sleep," my father stated. and suggested we close the Atthatmoment, myfather,Boat lover. Bug hater. Bat door andwaituntilmorning, who can sleep through arescuer extraordinaire. But "But what if someone else five-alarm fire a block from most importantly, My Dad. has to go to the bathroom?" our house (Yes. He did.Whether he is with me or not, "What are you two doing?" Keeseville, New York, Feb. l will celebrate Father's Day in Our whispered conversation 14, 1964.) But Iwillsave that his memorywith love. had woken up my sister,story for another time), fi- Marilyn Cohen Shapiro, a The bat, tired of squeezing nallyappearedinthedoorway resident of Kissimmee, Fla the Charmin, flew out of the ofhisbedroominhisteeshirt isaregularcontributortothe bathroom and began swoop- and boxers. Without a word, (Capital Region N.Y.) Jewish ing through the cottage, he crossed the room, grabbed World and the Orlando Heri- "Damn!" I cried, the fishing net that he kept tageFloridaJewishNews.She By this time, Emil, Laura, in the corner explicitly for is the authoroftwo compila- andMomwerewideawake.We this purpose, and in one fell tions of her stories, "There watched the bat circle above swoop, caught the bat in its Goes My Heart" (2016) and us, all of us talking at once web. He opened the front "Tikkun Olam" (2018). Both withsuggestionsofwhattodo, door, shook the frightened books available in paperback "Hit it with the badminton but still alive bat out of the and e-book format on Area- rack?" netting, and came back into zon. Her blog is theregoes- "How about a broom?" the cottage,