My father Herbert had two enduring loves in his life:

  1. His wife (my mom, if you’re keeping score at home), Olga (nee Osellame).
  2. The Los Angeles Dodgers (nee Brooklyn Dodgers).

He grew up in Jersey City, New Jersey and was just a subway ride away from his beloved Dodgers during their “Boys of Summer” (a must-read book by Roger Kahn) days. He was 10 when they made their first World Series in a generation, 15 when Jackie Robinson made his historic debut. He cheered “dem bums” on in four World Series match-ups where they wound up on the losing end, before they finally broke through in 1955 and beat the dreaded Yankees in a seven-game classic.


The Dodgers broke his heart when they moved to Los Angeles after the ’57 season. But he found joy in the five World Series they won during the rest of his lifetime.


He married my mom on October 15, 1960.


She broke his heart when she died of leukemia in 1968. But he found joy in the four children they had, and their kids’ kids too.

Tonight, October 15, 2016, the Los Angeles Dodgers take on the Chicago Cubs in the first game of the NLCS. I wish Herb were still around to root for his squad. But I know there can be joy after heartache, and I take solace in the symmetry.