By Marc Lichtenfeld My grandfather was born in 1904. He died 29 years ago, and he was my hero.
His life was the quintessential American Dream. The son of immigrants, he was very poor as a child.
He started working when he was 6 years old, selling newspapers on the corner (although the age always got younger every time he told the story). He went to high school, college and grad school at night so he could help support his family during the day.
My grandmother would tell us how he would come home from night school exhausted, eat a bowl of cornflakes for a late …read more
