Daniel Bloom
1925 - 2016
Kari Bloom
I didn’t know my dad very well. Most of what I know about him comes from the photos I’ve seen and the stories I’ve heard. I was only eight when he left and sadly, I remember so little of those eight years. I distanced myself from him for many years after, not quite understanding him or how to have what felt like a normal father-daughter relationship. But fifteen or so years ago, I got to a place of acceptance of who he was as a man, and to recognize the limitations of our relationship. We occasionally wrote, and at times spoke on the phone. I saw him here and there over these past years, most recently last June for his 90th birthday in LA.
It’s funny how the mind works, but two really random memories have stayed. I recall a game he played with me when he would come home from work at his dental practice – I’m guessing I was about 4 or 5. He would walk in the door, then take off his trench coat and wrap me up in it, carrying me around the house before plopping me down somewhere and I’d have to guess where I was in the house.
I can also still picture his dental office on Lockwood Avenue in New Rochelle, New York. I remember visiting, and loved taking the tube-like cotton rolls, used during dental procedures, and puffing away on them, pretending they were cigarettes.
More of his life became known to me through pictures – mostly through the incredible genealogical archives my aunt Naomi – his sister – and my cousin Michael put together. Not only great photos of the Bloom family over a long span of years, but many home movies, showing my father as a young boy, spending what looked like fun-filled summers in Bermuda year after year.
His legacy for me is in many ways tied to my connection, as well as my sisters and their families, to the Bloom family at large. First, I was named for his mother Kate, who died only months before I was born. (For those who may not know, it’s fairly common in the Jewish tradition to only use the first letter of a deceased family member’s name.) And then along came my niece Kate many years later, also named for the much-loved Kate Bloom.
And despite my father mostly not being in the picture, our family—including my mother—continued to have extremely close relationships with his sisters and their kids (and now grandkids). In fact, close to 50 of us spent an amazing week in Mexico together last summer for a family reunion. Though he wasn’t there, he was still the thread that made all that happen for my immediate family.
He was also an avid photographer when we were young, resulting in thousands of slides – many of which we still have. That too, is part of his legacy – a chronicle of our lives throughout the 50s, 60s, and 70s. A true gift.
I am thankful that he was able to live out the later part of his life near my sister Lucy, who did so much to make sure he was well and cared for. I am so grateful to her for that. I know it wasn’t always easy.
Rest in peace, Dad.
Love, Kari
It’s funny how the mind works, but two really random memories have stayed. I recall a game he played with me when he would come home from work at his dental practice – I’m guessing I was about 4 or 5. He would walk in the door, then take off his trench coat and wrap me up in it, carrying me around the house before plopping me down somewhere and I’d have to guess where I was in the house.
I can also still picture his dental office on Lockwood Avenue in New Rochelle, New York. I remember visiting, and loved taking the tube-like cotton rolls, used during dental procedures, and puffing away on them, pretending they were cigarettes.
More of his life became known to me through pictures – mostly through the incredible genealogical archives my aunt Naomi – his sister – and my cousin Michael put together. Not only great photos of the Bloom family over a long span of years, but many home movies, showing my father as a young boy, spending what looked like fun-filled summers in Bermuda year after year.
His legacy for me is in many ways tied to my connection, as well as my sisters and their families, to the Bloom family at large. First, I was named for his mother Kate, who died only months before I was born. (For those who may not know, it’s fairly common in the Jewish tradition to only use the first letter of a deceased family member’s name.) And then along came my niece Kate many years later, also named for the much-loved Kate Bloom.
And despite my father mostly not being in the picture, our family—including my mother—continued to have extremely close relationships with his sisters and their kids (and now grandkids). In fact, close to 50 of us spent an amazing week in Mexico together last summer for a family reunion. Though he wasn’t there, he was still the thread that made all that happen for my immediate family.
He was also an avid photographer when we were young, resulting in thousands of slides – many of which we still have. That too, is part of his legacy – a chronicle of our lives throughout the 50s, 60s, and 70s. A true gift.
I am thankful that he was able to live out the later part of his life near my sister Lucy, who did so much to make sure he was well and cared for. I am so grateful to her for that. I know it wasn’t always easy.
Rest in peace, Dad.
Love, Kari
