Stuart Swersie            

Stuart Swersie
1930-2002

I dedicate this website to my father, Stuart Swersie. It was Dad's sense of humor and writing talent which inspired me to become a comedian. It was his encouragement and support which gave me the confidence needed to push forward in a tough business. And, it was both of my parents who instilled in me the drive and ambition to do something productive with the talent gifted to me from Dad! I will always love and miss my father.
So much of him will always be with me. Most notably...his humor!

Ever since I can remember, Dad has been writing humorous articles. When I was just a boy back in the early-1960's, Dad was writing and editing a community newspaper called the "Country Village Vanguard." Sadly, most of this early work was destroyed in a fire in the late-1980's.

Dad continued writing until 1997 when his health began it's slow decline. At that time his work was being published in a Port Orange, Florida periodical called "At Home Magazine." As a tribute to Dad's inspiring life I would like to share some of his stories.

Laughter is often used to survive life's toughest moments. Dad certainly used humor in such a manner. Dealing with his declining health, here's Stuart Swersie's most poignant story... 

 

THE LUNG AND THE SPORT OF IT
by Stuart Swersie

    I have emphysema. Not just emphysema, but EMPHYSEMA. I carefully cultivated this condition one tasty cigarette at a time over a 37-year period. Today, by way of paying the piper (no pun intended), I'm tethered to an oxygen tank twenty-four hours a day just to breathe without turning blue.
    I've been told that emphysema is terminal but can take as long as twenty years to reach that stage. Figuring that I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, I'll take that twenty-year prediction and make the best of it.
    With these semi-debilitating conditions, you find that you have lots of time on your hands and comparatively little to do. So it was with great anticipation that I opened the application I received from the E.O.C., the Emphysema Olympic Committee.
    The games this coming year are being held in central Florida. You'll recall that 4 years ago they were held in Fairbanks, Alaska, and only two Eskimos with bronchitis showed up for the competition. As it worked out they both were disqualified when they failed the blubber testing so there were no winners that year. This time the Committee decided to make the games easier for the athletes from around the world to attend. They selected Florida's Port Orange as the site of the competition. It's convenient location, broad boulevards, fine hotels and restaurants, active night life, and cool ocean breezes make it the ideal location. The events will take place at several locations with the opening torch lighting ceremonies at a local supermarket parking lot. This will be a battery-operated torch since Sven Peterson's oxygen tank, and Sven, blew up at the '76 games when he got too close to the flame.
    Looking over the application I see the usual events listed: the ten-yard underwater relay without oxygen, the four-inch speed bump jump, the downhill wheelchair slalom, the oxygen tank toss, and the ever-popular balloon blow-ups. Highlighting the games is the exciting metric-mile run which starts on Monday, and, if estimates are correct, will finish late on Wednesday.
    Once again, I'm opting for the triathlon, the 1-2-3 punch of the games. The record for this event was set in 1988 by Lucy Medola of Apopka, Florida, may she rest in peace with her damn gold medal and record-breaking 964 out of 1000. With Lucy out of the way I figure to do well in the stationary bike race, should easily beat the field in the oxygen tank fill-up, and I'll nose out Fat Frankie Feldman in the rapid inhalation competition...he usually hyperventilates.  
    These are exciting times. I can't wait for the games to begin. The thought of it leaves me breathless.

This example of his writing doesn't simply show his talent as a writer,
it also highlights the attitude he tried so valiantly to hold on to until the morning of
August 3, 2002, when my Olympic-Champion-of-a-Father, sadly, passed away.

 

OTHER SHORT STORIES BY STUART SWERSIE:

"WHY I'LL NEVER LIVE TO BE 100"

"WE'RE TALKING ABOUT BIG MONEY HERE"

IF YOU'RE CALLING FROM A TOUCH-TONE PHONE..."

"FRICK AND FRACK"

"I WON! I WON!"

"ALL-AMERICAN SCREWDRIVER"

"AIN'T RETIREMENT GREAT"

"MY 'HOW THE HELL DOES THAT HAPPEN?' LIST"

 

One of my favorite stories is titled "SEVEN LETTERS MY FATHER NEVER MAILED" This emotionally-autobiographical and quite serious story reflects Dad's love-hate relationship with his own father, his disappointment in his father's inability to provide the emotional support and encouragement a son needs, and the emptiness and pain one feels when these issues are not resolved before the years make it too late.

 I don't know when Dad wrote this, as he did not indicate a date on the manuscript. I am inclined to believe that it was written shortly after his father passed away in 1970. I do know this, however...Whatever issues my Dad had with his father, he made certain that he did not leave this son with the same. Dad learned, the hard way, from his own father, and became a terrific Dad as a result.

"LUCKY MAN, GRATEFUL SON" BY JACK SWERSIE

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