Harold Berk

When you're a teenager, if you're lucky, there's a house besides your own where you can hang out, where you're always welcome and feel comfortable. For me, it was the Berk home. Their youngest son, Donny, was my boyfriend's oldest and closest friend. Their house was antique during an era when new construction was sprouting everywhere, and cavernous, with a key hidden for easy entry, cabinets filled with food, and parents who kept their lights on late in case you wanted to come in and talk. Even at age 16, I vowed that someday I'd have a home like this where kids felt listened to, and safe. My boyfriend has now been my husband for almost 35 years and Don is still our good friend. His father, Harold, died yesterday. I keep seeing Harold's sweet smile and hearing his genuinely interested questions. He was a successful dentist, family man, and a talented dancer. But I will always remember the warmth of his personality and the fact that he really cared during those tough years of the late 60's and early 70's when too many of his generation were too self-absorbed or too cynical to open their minds to different ideas. Harold and his wife Helen provided a needed haven for me and many others.