But Ma, It’s Not My Blood (Background on my Conception)
“But Ma, It’s Not My Blood,” is the exclamation I heard my Dad give my Grandmother after he came home with blood all over him.
My Grandmother was yelling at her son,”I just bought you that shirt and it is already ruined. My father’s side had an interstate trucking business which had some Jewish Mob connections, also known as “The Kosher Nostra.” I think they should have been called “The Kosher Noshtra- not a bad name for a Deli… Anyway, once my Grandmother heard that the blood on him was not his and that it was about business, she said, “Let me have that shirt and see if I can get those stains out.
I bring this up because perhaps you understand my whirlwind life better if you see where I am coming from. My mother the Holocaust Survivor, who survived in hiding as a little girl in a hole in the ground for 18 months and my father the low level Jewish Mobster…
And who introduced these people to each other?
The Butcher in Monticello.
I can just imagine the butcher chopping up a cow and continuously wiping blood on his apron talking to my mom’s mom and my Dad’s mom and telling them how their kids should get together and go out on a date.
And the rest is disaster. They get married after a couple of dates, I am born and I haven’t seen my Dad in over 40 years.
To keep you interested in the Documentary, I thought I try to find my Dad and have a meeting with him. That should be fun… for you.
Alright, let’s go find the man. He’s got some explaining to do.