IT MAKES SENSE TO ME
By Larry Peterson
When I was growing up in the Bronx we lived on the third floor in a five story walk-up on Sherman Ave. There were eight of us in a four room apartment. In the apartment below lived Leo and Sophie Rabinowitz. Quite often, in the middle of the night, blood-curdling screams filled the back alley and our apartment and the hallways outside. The screams were coming from the Rabinowitz’s. It was Sophie. She was having recurring nightmares. But Leo was the landlord and no one dared complain about the eery howls that constantly reached the ears of so many. There was one man, however, who could not leave this alone. That man was my father.