Last Stop, Penn Station
By Doug Schneider
1. RIDING THE LONG ISLAND RAIL ROAD
My father was born over a hundred years ago in the Hapsburg Empire. He was brought to this country at the age of 3, and grew up in New York City.
Dad was a teenager when he took a job in Manhattan and started commuting to and from Penn Station, riding the Long Island Rail Road. When Dad married Mom, he continued to ride the LIRR, and when he moved the family eastward on Long Island, he continued to ride the LIRR.
When Dad retired, he had been riding the LIRR, commuting to and from Penn Station, for 49 years.
The conductors on the LIRR are the modern equivalent of a town crier. They call out the names of the stations as the train approaches. Each stop is sung out: "Manhasset; next stop, Manhasset" or "Douglaston; next stop, Douglaston". When you reach the end of the line, you hear: "Penn Station; last stop, Penn Station".
2. MR. SCHNEIDER KNOWS THIS WILL HURT
My father could tolerate pain.
For years he had a big black spot under his thumbnail, the result of closing the door of our 1938 Pontiac on his hand. Dad finally asked our family doctor, about getting rid of the black spot.
The doctor got out his medical pliers. The nurse was aghast: "Doctor, aren't you going to give Mr. Schneider an anesthetic?" "Oh, no, Mr. Schneider knows this will hurt." He gripped Dad's thumbnail with the pliers, and pulled out the thumbnail without anesthesia.
My father was one tough guy.
One day, after grocery shopping, Dad dropped Mom off at the beauty parlor and went home to unload the groceries. Sitting in the beauty parlor, Mom heard an ambulance go by. Little did she know that Dad was in that ambulance.
The driveway was on an incline, and when Dad reached in the car to get the groceries, he hit the gearshift. The car rolled backwards, scooping him up with the open door. Dad fell to the ground; one tire rolled up on his chest, pinning him. Some neighbors saw Dad's legs protruding from underneath the car, and got the car off of him.
Turns out that Dad had a few sore ribs, nothing more.
3. LAST STOP, PENN STATION
My father lived with a persistent stomach ulcer for four decades, and survived. My father was diagnosed with skin cancer, and survived. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and survived. A car sat on Dad's chest, and he survived.
Dad's death came suddenly and unexpectedly. He had a heart attack.
The heart attack came when Dad was running an errand for a friend - an errand that involved riding the Long Island Rail Road. The heart attack came in Penn Station, and Dad was dead with a few minutes.
He died in a place he knew so well. He died four days short of his 77th birthday.
For my father, Penn Station was the last stop.
