Lev Abramoff, CA
Lev is a non-fiction writer, screenwriter and television development executive based in Los Angeles. He is an avid researcher of 20th century advertising in the arts, the history of jazz music and its musicians, and early American and international underworld gambling and crime figures. While growing up in Washington, D.C., he was an active participant in the underground D.I.Y. music and movement community. He is the host of “Jazz AF,” a radio show on KCHUNG 1630AM.
As a StoryTerrace writer, Lev interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know him better by reading his autobiographical anecdote below.
I grew up in a small house with two parents and four siblings, two of whom were my younger brothers. We were each two years apart, and naturally fairly similar in mannerisms and opinions, especially considering that we slept side by side for years. We shared a room. Hell we shared a bed even. There just isn’t a lot of room for individuality when you’ve got two people breathing on you for 8 hours a night.
My parents were strict about bedtime for us boys. As soon as 6 o’clock rolled around, we knew our freedom would soon be taken from us, and we would be banished up to our room for the night. Or day, depending on what time of year it was. At 6 o’clock during the summertime, the sun was still out in full show, but that did not matter to anyone other than us. Off to our room we were sent, to lay around and wonder why on earth we had to go to bed when it was not even nighttime yet.
We’d stare up at the ceiling, counting the passing shadows cast by the still-shining sun.
“We should sneak out,” my younger brother Alex would often say.
“If we get caught, we’re dead.” I’d say.
“We’re already dead. What’s the point?” The youngest, Daniel, would say.
It was a good question coming from a five year old. Alex was seven and I was nine, neither of us were really equipped with an answer.
“If we sneak out, we can go play in the neighborhood.”
“I know, but how do we get out? The window is too high… Mom and Dad will hear us if we go down the stairs.”
“What if one of of us causes a commotion and distracts them?” I said.
We thought about it in silence.
“That’s not bad.” Alex said.
“That could work.” I agreed.
Alex turned his head and looked at Daniel.
“You can do it.”
“I don’t want to, I want to go outside and play!”
“You’re the youngest, so it’s your duty to do it.”
Daniel was getting upset, as the prospect of him having fun started to evaporate.
“NO! I WON’T!”
“Shhhh, shut up! You’re gonna get us caught.” I sternly whispered at him.
Right on cue, heavy footsteps began racing up the stairs outside our bedroom door. All three of us closed our eyes and pretended we were asleep, right as our father opened the door and walked in.
“What’s going on in here?” he barked.
“Nothing, we’re sleeping!” Alex snapped back.
“All our friends are playing and we’re up here wasting our lives away!” Daniel screamed.
“Everyone is at home and in bed, it is LATE and you are…” My dad stopped, as we heard voices calling from outside our window.
“Lev, come out! Alex! Come play!”
We weren’t sure which of our friends had arrived to our rescue, but a wave of excitement came crashing in.
“See!” I said. “We’re the only ones in bed!”
Dad stared at each of us, one at a time, somehow considering the idea of actually letting us out of bed to go outside and play. A scenario so impossible that if it worked, it might be the first time a parent let their children get out of bed and go back to playing outside.
But it was not to be. Not this time, at least. Our father’s voice softened, but held its finality:
“Go to sleep. You’ll go play outside tomorrow.”
He turned and left our room, closing the door behind him.
We stared up at the shadows passing by on our ceiling, caused by the sun that was still shining brightly. I kept my eyes open in protest.
“That was close.”
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