Edwin Charles Zingelman was born 25 March 1907, as he liked to say, "on the kitchen table at the house on 52nd street." He turned 97 one week ago, and passed away early this morning in his sleep, after a mercifully brief bout with pneumonia and its complications.

Papa was a lover of brand-new Buicks and baseball and cheap whiskey and mystery novels and crossword puzzles and travel and cigars and lentil soup. He was a fantastic storyteller, and saw a lifetime of incredible change that he was glad to tell you about if you asked. He was ornery and didn't take shit from anyone, but you could bring him to tears simply by telling him you loved him.

We were close, and I'll miss him and his stories and his orneriness very much.


Papa & I at my sister's wedding in 1997.

Raise a glass to Papa, if you will, next time you have occasion to do so.
- posted by Lori @ 8:05:00 AM | permanent link | |