I was seven years old when I first met Ira. My family had moved from Forest Hills, Queens, NY to Westbury. He was my very first friend in the neighborhood. We spent many fun times together. I can remember us walking on a winter’s day at a building site for new homes being erected nearby. At one point I stepped on a small puddle that had turned to thin ice and it gave way; it was the memory of this that inspired a poem I dedicated to him many years later. We became blood brothers, cutting our fingers like you would see in the movies and pressing them together.
I remember he and I walking through the area of Sherwood Gardens where we lived, which was still mostly dirt, trees and bushes. We made believe we were “Johnny Appleseed,” throwing sawdust all around as we traipsed through our forest. Wonderful memories!
Ira, as far as I know, only attended one reunion. I was flattered when he told me he was coming mostly to see me. That sounds like a self-congratulatory statement, however, that statement remained with me all my life and I cherish it.
Later on we joined the wrestling team together. I recall him trying “to make weight” by doing jumping jacks and such; I had only admiration for him and his conviction to drop that extra weight. He was successful! I believe he approached all obstacles in life with that kind of determination.
In my yearbook, Ira wrote the following:
“Kies, It’s been almost 11 years since we’ve met and there have been some good times and bad ones. Thanks for everything throughout the years. I hope to continue being your friend as the years go by. All the best in the world, Ira.”
We remained good friends throughout our years in Westbury. I think of him often.
Mark Kieselstein
I was seven years old when I first met Ira. My family had moved from Forest Hills, Queens, NY to Westbury. He was my very first friend in the neighborhood. We spent many fun times together. I can remember us walking on a winter’s day at a building site for new homes being erected nearby. At one point I stepped on a small puddle that had turned to thin ice and it gave way; it was the memory of this that inspired a poem I dedicated to him many years later. We became blood brothers, cutting our fingers like you would see in the movies and pressing them together.
I remember he and I walking through the area of Sherwood Gardens where we lived, which was still mostly dirt, trees and bushes. We made believe we were “Johnny Appleseed,” throwing sawdust all around as we traipsed through our forest. Wonderful memories!
Ira, as far as I know, only attended one reunion. I was flattered when he told me he was coming mostly to see me. That sounds like a self-congratulatory statement, however, that statement remained with me all my life and I cherish it.
Later on we joined the wrestling team together. I recall him trying “to make weight” by doing jumping jacks and such; I had only admiration for him and his conviction to drop that extra weight. He was successful! I believe he approached all obstacles in life with that kind of determination.
In my yearbook, Ira wrote the following:
“Kies, It’s been almost 11 years since we’ve met and there have been some good times and bad ones. Thanks for everything throughout the years. I hope to continue being your friend as the years go by. All the best in the world, Ira.”
We remained good friends throughout our years in Westbury. I think of him often.
Mark ( Kieselstein) Cord