August 13, 2025

King David Turns 90!

Celebrating my dad and his enduring vitality.

There are no kings in the United States in the traditional sense. However, in my family, there is King David.

Today, August 13th, is my dad, David Schuster’s, 90th birthday. His name on the birth certificate is actually Israel David Schuster, but then my grandparents were concerned “Israel” would be cheapened to the nickname “Izzy”, so he always went by his middle name and uses “I” as a middle initial.

Some 30 years or so ago, when my parents still had the house in the country, a bunch of us were hanging out for a long summer weekend by our pool. Someone admired a tree with bright yellow blossoms — not the typical blooming flowers like sunflowers or daffodils, more like golden, bushy version of lilac with small, clustered blooms — growing next to the house. My dad’s response, “You like it? It’s the only tree like it in Connecticut.” 

“What, really?”

“Well, it’s the only one I’ve seen.” 

The thing is, that’s how stuff works with my dad. In mostly adorable (ahem!) ways, it’s Dave’s world. That was the only tree like it because that’s what he believed to be true in his immediate realm. Somehow it made sense. 

I don’t have to tell you that 90 years is an extraordinarily long time. The other night we were having dinner with friends — one of whom had been a PhD chemistry student of his in the 1970s and ‘80s — and Dad was asked about his earliest memory. He says he distinctly remembers attending the World’s Fair held in New York City, which was in 1939 (!) when he was only four, and being transfixed by the electric trains display. The theme was “The World of Tomorrow” and one of the exhibits was an elaborate train set which ran though a miniature city model, moving between lit-up buildings, the cars tooting at various points on the route.

He says that at one point my grandparents left him there alone to watch, mesmerized, and knew he wouldn’t budge and wander off. I guess you could do that with city kids (they lived in Flatbush, Brooklyn) in those days. 

When he shared this moment I could unequivocally picture in my head (it looks like a dappled black and white scene from a 1930s newsreel), my dapper grandparents Cele and Lou — attempting to urge him on to other exhibits and little Dave, even at that age, standing his ground. I can imagine the battle of wits and someone deciding it was better to just let him enjoy the entertainment. It also made me nostalgic for the photo below, taken by me in 1980 in London at a model city exhibit.

(He really liked those pants, btw.)

(For real)

Anyway, back to the model trains story… So it was astounding given that it was a four year-old vs. my stubborn as hell grandfather. (Then again I remember Grandpa Lou as finding the most joy in life watching kids and animals being amused by cute things, so maybe that had something to do with it. He would have hated most of the internet, especially the hassle of passwords, but he’d love all the cat videos.) 

I am convinced that entertainment is, in fact, what’s been keeping my dad alive, both as audience and participant. Though there was a big hiccup this year after a nasty fall (I wrote about it here) I am convinced the prospect of healing to take in more music, film, and theater and returning to the piano is what got him through it. OK, fine —  love and support from our family and some unbelievably even-tempered health aides, doormen, doctors, and car service drivers had a lot to do with it too — but it was the goal of getting better and taking part again. 

(Then and now)

So at 90, he’s back in action. It’s a little like what I can imagine being the parent of an unruly teenager (having been one myself at one point) is like. I do fret about how he’ll get to and from places with my almost 89-year-old mom — and they both use walkers — and whether he’ll mind his manners. But I know I’m lucky to have that worry at all. And it’s amazing that the will and the way is still there. 

Just don’t feed him any kiwis. He’s allergic.

Happy birthday, Dad. Long live King David! 

P.S. Incidentally, he’s so cool that in the 1960s in Vegas, he was heckled from the stage by Don Rickles who said, “Look at that yid in the cockamamie sports jacket!” (He had arrived late. With his best friend from school, a very tall, blonde man Rickles referred to as “The Priest”.) This is the jacket years later. We’re at the Bronx Zoo.

In 2015, for his 80th birthday, a bunch of us gifted him a Cockamamie Sports Jacket replica.