Daniel Bloom
1925 - 2016
Peter Rainer
Paraphrase of an impromptu speech…
Dan Bloom R.I.P.
I spent the better part of the past four months clearing out my parents’ house in New York. Many times I came across photos and objects that stirred up vast family memories for me. I often thought of Dan at those times, as he was the last living link, along with my uncle Lester, from that era. It felt good to know he was still in this world, and that I would see him when I returned to Los Angeles.
I remember Dan from when I was growing up. I remember his deep voice, I remember thinking he had a large Adam’s apple! The pictures of him with my Dad, who would have been 95 this week, and of Lester and the Blooms and the Rosens, are treasured images. The movies of him on the Illa Hee boat are not only time capsules – they’re in color!
I reunited with Dan in the 1980s, the first time he lived in Los Angeles. He was always very interested in what I was doing, in my writing. He would mail me letters periodically, in that scrawl of his which resembled a ransom note. We celebrated Thanksgivings in Huntington Beach with Ruth’s family, where much food was consumed.
At one point, I believe it was not long after Dave passed away, Dan donated a large shawl or blanket of some value that had been in the family to the L.A. Museum of Art. There was a ceremony at the Ethical Culture building in Santa Monica and also at the museum. This clearly meant a lot to him.
When Dan returned to Los Angeles after a decade or so, he resided in a series of assisted living communities, the first, I believe, being a Communist enclave for aging progressives, complete with dusty bookshelves of the complete works of Lenin. Later on, I spent Thanksgiving with him in one of his subsequent, spiffier abodes. Lucy and Kevin and Dan and Kate and I on many occasions would go out to eat, most memorably in the Chinese restaurants in San Gabriel.
Dan always lit up when he saw me. He had a great big smile, and so did I when I saw him. Lucy thinks that perhaps some of this was due to the fact that I reminded him a little of my father, his cousin Jack. Despite his adversities, he had such fortitude. He had many infirmities in his later years, and there were times when I saw in the hospital and didn’t think he would pull through. But he did, again and again. We joked and called it the Bloom Gene.
The last time I saw Dan was at Windsor, several weeks before he passed away. He had recently returned from the hospital and was seriously ailing, but on that day, he saw me and I got the same bright smile and ardent eyes. We sat together for two hours, interrupted only by a walk down the hallway, insisted on by his nurse, which, after some prompting, he took to like the Energizer Bunny. He was game right up until the end. Because Dan could not speak intelligibly at this point, our meeting was mostly about him listening to me. I hadn’t intended it, exactly, but I ended up speaking to him at length about my life, my past, my troubles, my hopes, and what I had gone through in dealing with my parents’ house. I really opened up to him, and he received all of it, I believe, with full understanding. I am forever grateful that I was able to have this final time with him. And I am forever grateful to Lucy for the care she showed her father throughout the time they spent together in Los Angeles.
As I say, Dan would always give me a big smile when he saw me. I think of him now and I smile, too.
Dan Bloom R.I.P.
I spent the better part of the past four months clearing out my parents’ house in New York. Many times I came across photos and objects that stirred up vast family memories for me. I often thought of Dan at those times, as he was the last living link, along with my uncle Lester, from that era. It felt good to know he was still in this world, and that I would see him when I returned to Los Angeles.
I remember Dan from when I was growing up. I remember his deep voice, I remember thinking he had a large Adam’s apple! The pictures of him with my Dad, who would have been 95 this week, and of Lester and the Blooms and the Rosens, are treasured images. The movies of him on the Illa Hee boat are not only time capsules – they’re in color!
I reunited with Dan in the 1980s, the first time he lived in Los Angeles. He was always very interested in what I was doing, in my writing. He would mail me letters periodically, in that scrawl of his which resembled a ransom note. We celebrated Thanksgivings in Huntington Beach with Ruth’s family, where much food was consumed.
At one point, I believe it was not long after Dave passed away, Dan donated a large shawl or blanket of some value that had been in the family to the L.A. Museum of Art. There was a ceremony at the Ethical Culture building in Santa Monica and also at the museum. This clearly meant a lot to him.
When Dan returned to Los Angeles after a decade or so, he resided in a series of assisted living communities, the first, I believe, being a Communist enclave for aging progressives, complete with dusty bookshelves of the complete works of Lenin. Later on, I spent Thanksgiving with him in one of his subsequent, spiffier abodes. Lucy and Kevin and Dan and Kate and I on many occasions would go out to eat, most memorably in the Chinese restaurants in San Gabriel.
Dan always lit up when he saw me. He had a great big smile, and so did I when I saw him. Lucy thinks that perhaps some of this was due to the fact that I reminded him a little of my father, his cousin Jack. Despite his adversities, he had such fortitude. He had many infirmities in his later years, and there were times when I saw in the hospital and didn’t think he would pull through. But he did, again and again. We joked and called it the Bloom Gene.
The last time I saw Dan was at Windsor, several weeks before he passed away. He had recently returned from the hospital and was seriously ailing, but on that day, he saw me and I got the same bright smile and ardent eyes. We sat together for two hours, interrupted only by a walk down the hallway, insisted on by his nurse, which, after some prompting, he took to like the Energizer Bunny. He was game right up until the end. Because Dan could not speak intelligibly at this point, our meeting was mostly about him listening to me. I hadn’t intended it, exactly, but I ended up speaking to him at length about my life, my past, my troubles, my hopes, and what I had gone through in dealing with my parents’ house. I really opened up to him, and he received all of it, I believe, with full understanding. I am forever grateful that I was able to have this final time with him. And I am forever grateful to Lucy for the care she showed her father throughout the time they spent together in Los Angeles.
As I say, Dan would always give me a big smile when he saw me. I think of him now and I smile, too.
