In Memory of...

This book was written to pay respect to Isaac Elias Jonathon Penn, who passed away on December 21. As Isaacs father, I felt it was necessary to convey Isaacs relationship with each family member by means of pen and paper. The rightful representation for Isaac’s love for documentation. Listening to Joanna Newsom on his deathbed, reading Lolita, Isaac lay peacefully. “Dreaming seamless dreams of lead”- Joanna Newsom.

Chapter 1.

Sandy Penn screams. She wails. She tosses and turns. A hysterical woman granting existence to an anxious child. Pop!

Chapter 2.

On his third birthday my child receives a birthday card from his brother. Isaac snatches it and reads, without being literate “I am so happy that it is your birthday Isaac, I promise I will be nice to you today. Love Asher. Thanks Asher”. They hug and Asher hands his brother a mix tape trying to formulate some sort of speech before Isaac interrupts. “ I know Asher, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth and Wu Tang Clan, trust me I know”. Isaac knows.

Chapter 3.

His tricycle. His one toy and only prized possession at age four. Elisa, his sister asked politely to borrow it for an act in Cirkids. Isaac relentlessly gave in. Anxiously waiting at home, to see that beautiful blue bike. She broke the tricycle. Being unable to share his emotions with even people as close as his family, Isaac said nothing.

Chapter 4.

School in Australia. Scotts College was his home for one short month. Isaac, coming from a diverse family background, was surprised that everyone there was Christian and white. Of course, there were exceptions. A Christian aboriginal. And the triangle of Jews; Isaac, Daniel, and the assistant head boy. The Dirty Jew. “Get the Jew with the ball”, they’d shout. And rocks, oh rocks. While Isaac suffered, Daniel prospered on the soccer field. For Isaac wasn’t.

Chapter 5.

I stand there at the top of the course with my ID badge “Dr. Ian Penn, Tellembugrum Australia”. I was ski patrol doctor, waiting for an injury. It was Isaac’s international Super G race and it was one of the first events that I had seen. He skied for himself, not for us. I watched him majestically carve. Boom! He fell. And rose to his feet, skis parallel to finish what he had started. Couldn’t help but feel proud, as I watch my son preserver. Perseverance that will never leave us.