My dad, known for a bent toward self-aggrandizement, began referring to himself as a folk hero. The pretense of Joel being just a friend was abandoned within that first year. Their joint subscription to GQ was the surest tipoff. Although there were two beds in their room, eventually I saw through this fictive setup. In September 1978, the month I started high school, my dad moved from our Center City townhouse to his friend Joel’s Pennsylvania Avenue apartment where Joel lived with his five-year-old daughter Sonya. Although not athletic, he was dedicated to maintaining a trim, toned physique, jogging three miles daily long before running became popular.Īnd, as I gradually came to understand, he was also gay. He was a meticulous dresser, a follower of fashion, a wearer of jewelry, an opera aficionado, and a lover of gourmet food and fine wine. Arnold Rosenberg had nothing in common with the Hallmark version of dads who mow lawns, play golf, and watch endless hours of sports on TV. Selecting Father’s Day cards was always a challenge. Amy Cohen’s sister Linda Rosenberg McGuire and her father Arnold Rosenberg in 1964.
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