My father

Dad was born that day.
When he played his favorite violin, his face changed, he became devilish, youthful, confident.

Once upon a time, it had the authority to close a workshop and even an entire plant if chemical safety requirements were not met within. The workers in these factories regarded him as a benefactor.
There were a lot of inventions and rationalizations - all in the area of safety in the work environment.
He was able to play everything that produces sound. He was showing me the guitar chords.
He was driving a motorcycle.
He seemed to me like a knight on horseback when he rode his IL.
My daughter was convinced that her grandfather could repair and seal anything broken.
In his last years, he was immersed in music. He listened to his beloved Paganini, Sarasate, Wieniawski, and slowly and gradually disappeared from our world.
Sometimes I see his face in the mirror.

Author: Dorothea Tabakov

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