Preface to memoir –

I never had all of him. He was my son and I never had al of him. When he was born the fill in obstetrician pulled him out with high forceps – which interrupted the connection between his eye and brain and , therefore, he never cold see – not his twin brother, his little brother, his father or me.

Those forceps also caused him to have a life threatening illness – which we learned about when he was 12 years old and which he succumbed to at age 34 – 11 years ago.

In spite of all this, my son, Lee Rubenstein always had a smile on his face. “And a Smile On His Face” is the title I have chosen for the book I am writing, which is a tribute to his courage.

He lived with me for the last year of his life, but prior to that he lived independently
For 6 years in his own apartment in north Berkeley, California. He walked, took the bus and Bart and many planes by himself. He was blind, had seizures, which disoriented him, and he was heavily medicated – but nothing deterred him from getting out and about.

The telephone was his lifeline to the world and he spent many hours talking to his various friends. When he was out of bed he usually carried his portable phone in his pocket.

He spent a good deal of time in bed - as he was on a lot of drugs. He use to tease and say he was going to start a legal drug fraternity.

When the phone rang – he always let it ring twice – so as not to give the impression of how much that call meant to him.

Every call – every simple [le kindness meant a great deal to him. He use to say to me – as he got on a plane to go back to Berkeley, “Mom, would you please call and leave me a TLC (tender loving care ) message.

The above is a preface to a memoir I wrote after taking a class, Art Of The Memoir, at UCLA. The memoir follows