When snow or ice was on the ground, it was impossible for him to walk, even with help. At such times my sisters or I would pull him through the streets of Brooklyn, N.Y., on a child's sleigh to the subway entrance. Once there, he would cling to the handrail until he reached the lower steps that the warmer tunnel air kept ice-free. In Manhattan the subway station was the basement of his office building, and he would not have to go outside again until we met him in Brooklyn on his way home. When I think of it now, I marvel at how much courage it must have taken for a grown man to subject himself to such indignity and stress. And I marvel at how he did it - without bitterness or complaint.