Happy Birthday Grandpa - or is it? The tale of the elusive record of your birth

Nathan Elkes (May 10/7, 1909-July 8, 1983)
Taken at a family wedding in Elizabeth, NJ  about 1979

My Grandparents, Nathan and Claire Klepper Elkes, enjoyed a good bit of travel in their retirement.  I vaguely recall hearing a story about my Grandfather's challenges in securing a passport to travel overseas.  While looking through papers that were given to my Uncle, we came across what I have termed as a "Non-Birth Certificate" from the City of New York.  Apparently they were unable to find his birth certificate and they checked the 1910 Census and could not find him there either (he was born on May 10th, 1909).  Finally locating him in the 1920 Census where he is reflected as having been born in NY, they provided a letter confirming that he did, in fact, exist citing the 1920 Census as proof.  With this document as proof of his birth, he obtained a passport and they went on their merry way.  (I have since found him in the 1910 Census with a transcribed surname of Elmes.)

I have spent umpteenth hours mining through the www.italiangen.org indexes for vital records.  One night, I set out, determined to find this particular elusive record in the index.  I tried all different combinations of letters and wild card searches.  Finally, after envisioning myself as my Great-Grandmother Jennie with a heavy Russian accent trying to communicate her surname, I found what must be it...  there was a Nathan Halkis who was born on May 7th.  I obtained a copy of the record and, sure enough, there was Jennie as his mother with a surname noted of Ylsttein!  FINALLY, my Grandfather was certified... but why had we always celebrated his birth on the wrong date?  Who changed it and when was it changed???  That, we will never know!!  But I took great pride and joy in finally finding this record!

I have great memories of time spent with my Grandfather.  His occupation was a linen delivery man, which he did for many years in New York and then down here in Miami.  I've been told that he used to spend the week in the city working and return home to his family in Plainfield, NJ on the weekends.

Grandpa was a handsome man with a big girth from being so well fed by my Grandmother.  A very proud man, I recall vividly his disdain at receiving a ticket for driving through an area that was not a truck route.  I can see him sitting in his recliner watching TV in his bedroom, a can of hard candies always there on his nightstand.  He enjoyed fishing and gardening and, above all, wrestling.  Taking my older brother and cousin to events, I was envious when left behind... mind you, not that I wanted to see a wrestling event, but I could appreciate at a very young age how special the time with Grandpa was.  In stark contrast to my Grandmother, who was always curt and businesslike when I was young, he was lighthearted and enjoyed sharing laughter and playfulness with his many grandchildren.  Grandma eventually lightened up too and I enjoyed many wonderful times with her over the years.

Along those same veins, my Grandmother held tight the household pursestrings.  I remember how she often took me to her utility room pantry and proudly showed me how she had obtained food at reduced prices, usually dented cans and such.  To her credit, they were able to save a considerable sum of money and enjoyed a wonderful retirement together until he died in 1983.  To illustrate just how it sat with him though, I remember visiting him in the hospital emergency room after he had collapsed.  He kept asking for his teeth.  There was something I wanted to buy - a school ring if I recall correctly.  He found his wallet and gave me the money for it, muttering that a man had to have money in his pocket.  Apparently, this was from a secret stash that my Grandmother knew nothing about!!  I told him I would pay him back and he said not to worry.  I never heard about it again from him or my Grandmother.  I often wonder if he ever told her that he had given me that money.

Once, I was playing out front of my house.  We lived in North Dade in an area where the houses consisted of a few different models with the same facade, distinguished only by the color of the trim.  Ours was dark green.  As I played, I saw my Grandfather come... and then I saw him go by.  Confused, I ran down the sidewalk following him and he pulled into the house a few doors down.  This was the same model house but with black trim.  I asked him why he went to the wrong house and he matter of factly informed me he was color blind.  It was a foreign concept to me and I wondered what it was like to not be able to distinguish color.  I've since learned that one of my brothers is also color blind, apparently an inherited trait more commonly appearing in males.

My Grandparents retired to a duplex in Cape Coral, Florida.  I made a point to stop and visit them on my trips between school at FSU in Tallahassee and home.  After suffering a couple of heart attacks, my Grandfather was no longer allowed to drive.  Sentenced to passenger forever more with my Grandmother behind the wheel must have been like being sentenced to a hard labor camp!  My Mother and I went over to visit them once and for some reason neither of us packed toothpaste.  My rationale was that of course, staying in someone's home, there would be toothpaste there... I assume my Mother thought the same.  Then again, no one in that household had teeth, which I guess neither of us considered.  Heading home after dinner, we pulled into Publix and Grandma went into the store to pick some up for us.  While in there, Grandpa jumped into the driver's seat.  I have to laugh when I recall that Grandma sent one of the bag boys out to the car to ask us what flavor we wanted!!  When she returned, it became quite a battle of wills as she demanded my Grandfather relinquish the driver seat.  He stood fast in his intention to drive us home, probably only a couple of miles.  After much discussion on the topic, Grandma finally conceded and handed over the keys.  It was easy to see how much joy Grandpa received from chauffeuring us on just that short trip.

Grandpa is buried in a cemetery in Fort Myers.  As I head there for my 20th year of celebrating Mother's Day at the beach, I will stop in and pay him a visit for his birthday.  But this year, for the first time ever, I took a few minutes to wish him Happy Birthday on May 7th.  Who knows, maybe it is the first time he has ever been recognized on his "real" birthday.  Cheers to you Grandpa - I miss you very much!!

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun...