Dad had to flee Europe ...I fled back
They chop wood! They ride motorbikes! They build empires out of sausages! Yes, there’s no one like Dad, as these stars reveal
MY FATHER Robert escaped from the Nazis in Austria to Chicago during the 1930s with no money but with that American dream burning in his heart. He built an empire out of sausage casings – the pieces of skin on the outside of the sausage made from the intestines of a farm animal.
My father, mother and I were always at war; my father trying to discipline me because he thought that was his job and mine was rebelling. I’d run away after a battle at dinner time with him chasing me down the street and dragging me back. Later in life, I’d escape to another continent to get away. They fled Europe, I fled back.
Even though he was abusive to us, he’d be charming on the phone when pushing his intestines on his customers. Trying to sound all-American, he’d get his colloquialisms confused and once said to someone: ‘Vel dats da vey da chickens crumble.’
Maybe the problem with me was that he was resentful that I was lucky enough to be a teenager during the time of sexual liberation and when America was having an orgy, while his youth was nipped in the bud due to a regime that wanted him out or dead.
When he was very old, I found a copy of his will. It stated that when I was 58, I would receive 20 per cent of my inheritance. At 65 I’d get another 15 per cent and after 70, I’d get another ten per cent and so on.
I spoke to his lawyer who said he’d never seen anything like it.
My dad had a stroke, after which he couldn’t speak, and just before he became partially paralysed I got him to change the will and leave me all the money.
I used some of it to get him into a five-star retirement home. I visited him a few times each year. The last time I saw him before he died was on Valentine’s Day.
I was leaving his room for the airport and I said, as I always did on my departures: ‘I love you.’ At that time his brain scan showed hardly any activity and he obviously hadn’t been able to communicate for the past five years.
But even in this state, he suddenly sat up and said, ‘I love you too,’ then he cried.
At that moment, the swords were lowered and for the first time, I felt we made peace.