My Father, an Avoidable Death

Cal with all his grandchildren in NJ backyard.

“He killed Dad” is the first thing I remember my sister telling me after our father passed away from Covid-19 on May 8.

I gave her statement very little thought at the time. We had just spent four weeks focused on vital signs, like oxygen level and body temperature. I was not ready to deal with the next battle.

Cal Schoenfeld was a great person, father, and husband. If he wasn’t, there was no way his marriage to my mother would have lasted 60 years. He was born and grew up in Brooklyn, and was proud of it. He always regretted our exile to the NJ suburbs when I was a kid.

My father was a commercial artist. He worked long hours in the city and our basement. He was an avid reader of newspapers and magazines. During dinner, he would talk non-stop about politics, travel, nature, NY, or whatever else was on his mind. The rest of us would eat and ignore him. He didn’t seem to notice.

My father was always in a good mood. It took a lot for my mother to get on his nerves. I saw this happen only a handful of times. The explosion would be scary, but it never lasted long. He liked to joke, Why do Jewish men die before their wives? Because they want to.

My father had no medical conditions. He was a healthy weight, and in good shape for an 83-year old. He had another ten years left. The White House occupant took that away from us. I will not let him get away with it.

Please sign petition: Justice for Covid Victims