I remember when I found my spot for a dental office. It was February 1962 and it was on Parsons Boulevard in Jamaica.

I could not sleep thinking about the location. Would someone whisk it away from me because I was moving so cautiously and slowly?

The rent seemed exorbitant. One hundred fifty dollars a month for a professional apartment. It included a three-year lease and two-year option at a 10 percent increase. Two months of concession were thrown in by the landlord. That seemed like an awful lot of money for a dentist just recently discharged from the United States Army to pay.

When the landlord requested my father's signature as a cosigner to ensure payment I rebelled. This office was my baby, hit or miss, success or failure. I told the landlord that it was no deal if my father had to be a cosigner. I wanted something that I could call mine. Just mine! The landlord paused for a time and relented.

He said, "Okay, Doc, you look like you've got the right stuff. I'll take a chance on you." I was on cloud nine, wherever that is.

I don't know if I had the right stuff, but I lasted at that location for 32 years. The landlords changed five or six times, but Stanley was still there.

Four years ago, Nov. 4, 1994, to be exact, I ceased to practice and I retired at age 60. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of former patients are becoming faded memories even as I write this column.

As the ethnic makeup of New York City changed, so did the tenant makeup of the apartment house on Parsons Boulevard. As one sauntered down the long hallway past the super, the doorman and the mailroom, aromas attacked your olfactory system.

For the first 10 years you smelled chicken soup on the way to your dental appointment.

For the second 10 years, bacon fat attacked your nostrils.

For the third 10 years, the smell was the exotic redolence of curry.

Each in their turn, I enjoyed the changing clientele. They brought their strange accents and national customs and more into my office.

I was the doctor!

I was a constant in some of their lives!

I have forgotten all the unpleasantries.

I dwell only on the wonderful people I met and served.