In September 1972, my parents, Harry and Celia Schock, traveled from their apartment in Lindenwold, New Jersey to Baltimore, Maryland to see their grandson, Carey, for the first time. After they said hello to his mother Missy and sister Lisa, I presented Carey to my father’s open arms; the expression on his face is something I shall never forget. My mother was in her glory also. With those moments in mind, a month later I sent my father a letter for his 75th birthday; a commercial card just wouldn’t do. A draft* of that letter follows:
October 8, 1972
“To my father on the occasion of his seventy-fifth birthday, October 8, Nineteen Hundred and Seventy-Two.
While driving on the way home from our visit last Sunday night, it occurred to me that it was indeed unfortunate that we had to come up to see you last Sunday rather than this one. Circumstances were such, however, that that choice had to be since our schedules wouldn’t permit a trip this Sunday.
I was also thinking how special it is for someone in this day and age to be able to reach your milestone of seventy-five years. It is really amazing when you think about the many tragedies that have occurred and do occur every day, whether it be in Vietnam, Munich, or Belfast. Yet, again, it seems incredible when you think how you have more than doubled your father’s age. As I was driving, with Missy, Lisa, and Carey sleeping, I found myself hoping that with the aid of some miracle I would be able to at least match your accomplishment. I don’t only mean in terms of years alone, I would like to believe that all of my family would be around. Missy, sixty-eight; Lisa, forty-two, and Carey thirty-six. As many people have said so many times: time will tell.
I wanted to get you something special for this occasion and I do hope that you will enjoy the book by Sir Kenneth Clark that I am sending (pray tell the mails will get it to you eventually). I am sure you often wonder what life is all about, just as often as do all people. Perhaps some insight about this can be gained from this book – Civilization. I truthfully believe it is an effort that will be recognized for years to come as a significant volume in the annals of Art, History, and Culture. In the forward you will note that this book was written from scripts of a series of television programs which I feel are absolutely superb. They are constantly being shown on television and at public libraries. If you haven’t seen them, then you must try to go to wherever offered. At the beginning of chapter one, “The Skin of our teeth,” – page two, second paragraph – Clark quotes Ruskin as having said. “Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts: the book of their deeds, the book of their words, and the book of their art. None of these books can be understood unless we read the two others, but of the three, the only trustworthy one is the last.”
Many times I have given thought to what your dad must have been like. To be perfectly honest with you the only thing I do know is that he died when you were very, very, young; which is to say that you probably don’t know much more. Wouldn’t it be great if some supreme being required, to paraphrase Ruskin “That all men write their autobiographies in three manuscripts: the book of their deeds, the book of their words, and the book of their art”? If this were the case then all people would understand their heritage. I think it would be so marvelous if you could have your father’s words so that we might have known about him and his times. In the same light I feel that no one can better talk about my life and times than myself – after all, I’m the one who has lived them. So, on the occasion of my father’s seventy-fifth birthday, I want to ask him to begin something that will start a tradition that will continue as long as there is a Schock. I am so proud to have a daughter and a son and I intend to do for them what I ask you to do for me and for all future generations of our family. I want you to start a “book of words”. I feel that there can be no answer but ‘yes, I will try!” All autobiographies start out in the following manner: I was born in the year 1897 in the former country of Lithuania on October 8th in the city of Kaunas. My father was a ______ and my mother, who had other children was a _______________. My brothers and sisters were named ________________.” I am sure that if you spend some time each day at this you will accomplish something that all of us will certainly be proud of. Take your time and don’t think that anything that crosses your mind is unimportant.
I know that asking something like this is asking an awful lot. But I must point out to you that we – and I mean so many people who have had the opportunity to know you – can certainly speak for your deeds and your art speaks for itself whether it be a painting, a carving, a wood picture, a building, or whatever. Please Dad, resolve that on the day following the arrival of Civilization that each and every day you will read some and also write some. Writing is not difficult when it is honest and I can’t imagine your having any concern about that.
For many years now you have read letters from me from all over the country and parts of the world. This has certainly been a document, in part, of my life. Do you realize, however, that you have convinced yourself that you either cannot write or that no one is interested in what you have to say. In either case you are gravely mistaken and I beg you to remedy that situation by writing what I ask for so that all Schocks can know from what heritage and civilization they come.
If you decide that you cannot do this I will be greatly disappointed. However, my personal feelings for you will be unaltered. You are my Dad and that I have never forgotten. No gift, nor few words on the phone can convey the feeling that I have for you. Know that and be proud of your accomplishment: your deeds, your art and your craft and, I so dearly hope, eventually, your words.
With Love,
Fred”
* As I re-read this, I desperately want to re-write, edit and amend. The letter, however, appears exactly as drafted; I have never been able to find the original in my parents’ memorabilia.
Note: While my father, before his death in 1978, never put to words his history, much has been discovered since I started this project some 20 years ago. Records available on the Internet continue to provide an Online treasure trove of vital information.