I have many memories about my father and about growing up with him in our apartment next to the elevated train tracks.For 20 years,we listened to the roar of the train as it passed by his bedroom window.Late at night,he waited alone on the tracks for the train that took him to his job at a factory,where he worked the midnight shift.

On this particular night,I waited with him in the dark to say good-bye.His face was grim.His youngest son had been drafted.I would be sworn in at six the next morning,while he stood at his paper-cutting machine in the factory.

My father had talked about his anger.He didn't want them to take his child,only 19 years old,who had never had a drink or smoked a cigarette,to fight a war in Europe.He placed his hands on my slim shoulders."You should be careful,Srulic,and if you ever need anything,write to me and I'll see that you get it."

Suddenly,he heard the roar of the approaching train.He held me tightly in his arms and gently kissed me on the cheek.With tear-filled eyes,he murmured,"I love you,my son."Then the train arrived,the doors closed him inside,and he disappeared into the night.

One month later,at age 46，my father died.I am 76 as I sit and write this.I once heard Pete Hamill,the New York reporter,say that memories are man's greatest inheritage and I have to agree.I've lived through four invasions in World War II.I've had a life full of all kinds of experiences.But the only memory that lingers is of the night when my dad said,"I love you,my son."

縈繞心間的唯一記憶

我有許多回憶是有關父親和我在我們臨近高架輕軌的公寓里那段日子的。20年里，我們聽著列車經過他臥室窗口時的轟鳴聲。深夜，他獨自一人在輕軌上等待那列載他去工廠上班的列車，因為他在那里上零點班。

在那個特殊的夜晚，我與他在黑暗中一起等候著道別的時刻。他的臉色陰沉，他最小的兒子被征入伍。第二天早晨六點鐘，我將被宣布入伍，而他卻站在工廠自己那臺切紙機前。

父親曾表達過他的憤怒。他不愿讓他們帶走自己的孩子，讓那個才19歲，還從未喝過酒抽過煙的孩子去歐洲打仗。他把手放在我單薄的雙肩上。“你要小心，斯魯里克，要是你需要什么的話，寫信給我，我保證你會得到的。”

突然，他聽到了列車駛來的轟鳴聲，緊緊把我抱在懷里，溫柔地親吻我的臉頰，眼含著淚水，低聲地說：“我愛你，我的兒子。”接著，列車就到了，列車門把他關在里面，他消失在夜色中。

一個月后，46歲的父親去世了。如今，76歲的我坐著寫下這些。我曾聽《紐約時報》記者皮特·哈米爾說記憶中的往事是男人最寶貴的遺產，我必須認同。我在第二次世界大戰中經歷了四次侵略戰爭，我的一生飽經風霜。但是，縈繞在我心間的回憶只有父親說“我愛你，我的兒子”的那個夜晚。