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Walking My Way Through the Perils of Stone Pathways in Europe

10 Jul

Shoes are the most important item to pack for a trip through southern Europe! Forget heels. No heels! Sturdy walking shoes are the only reasonable shoe to take and nice flats for the evenings. Believe me when I tell you that walking on stone streets and paths is not for the timid or the unbalanced.

Italy,  St. Peter's Stones/Bricks.

Italy, St. Peter’s Stones/Bricks.

I have learned to hate St. Peter’s Stones. These unusual shape stones make up many of the pathways in Rome. Each stone is about 4 inches wide at one end and tapers to about 2 ½ inches at the other end. Between each stone is about a half inch of grout…if you are lucky. Most of the time the grout is missing. A great place to get a heel caught and trip.   I asked some female Rome citizens how they walked in heels. Their answer, they don’t. I know why.

Stone walkways in the Jewish Quarter of Rome.

Stone walkways in the Jewish Quarter of Rome.

But it isn’t just the St. Peter’s Stones that can wear on the legs. Almost everywhere the sidewalks and streets are made of stone. And it makes sense. These are old cities. In the Jewish Quarter of Rome there were square stones that paved the walkways and streets.   I say this together because in the tight areas of the old city people and cars share the streets and walkways.

I cannot imagine what they are like when they are wet. We were fortunate and never encountered rain on our trip, but I can imagine that these stones cause much misery when they are damp or wet.   The only place I can compare it to is Jerusalem. Also a city paved with stone, Jerusalem is a place where I have experienced rain and snow and it was not pretty! After two days of walking in Rome, even with sneakers and flats, my legs were aching.

In our not quite two days in Rome, we walked 11.8 miles! And over our two-week trip to Europe I walked 62 miles, averaging 4.4 miles a day, including the two at sea days. I know for a fact as I wore my Jawbone Up the entire time! So believe me when I say I became intimate with the stone walkways of some of the cities along the Mediterranean. And I feel fortunate that we all survived intact!

To be honest, the stone walkways were so beautiful, I started taking photos of them. Lovely to look at in every city and island we visited… but terrible for the legs and feet.

Pompeii stone streets... Pretty good actually.

Pompeii stone streets… Pretty good actually.

I loved the incredible stone streets of Pompeii. That they lasted this long through fire and ash and 2000 years shows their durability. And actually the stone walkways in Pompeii were easy to walk on. I was amazed at how the craftsmen took irregular shaped stones and fit them so precisely together. They were just stunning.

Sicilian Stone walkways.

Sicilian Stone walkways.


Sardinian stone.

Sardinian stone.

On the islands of Sicily and Sardinia we encountered larger, more even stones. Rectangle and squares probably made it for easier for masons to install the stonework. They were also a bit easier to walk on in the more modern parts of town.   But still gave no relief to tired calf muscles!

Corsica at the citadel.  These stones were impossible! And yes, it was the only place to walk.

Corsica at the citadel. These stones were impossible! And yes, it was the only place to walk.

After Corsica, I knew the stones were starting to take their toll on people. In Calvi, Corsica, the citadel is located high above the city. You have to walk up a multitude of stone staircases before reaching the path that takes you into the citadel. Should I call it a path, or the stone walkway from Hell? These uneven and rounded stones pushed into the ground must be carefully and diligently watched as you walk. They look like giant river pebbles. When you walk on them there can be no looking up until you take a break. Just watch your feet. I thought going uphill was bad. But going downhill was much worse.

The day after the trip to Calvi, I noticed several people on our cruise ship now in wheelchairs with their ankles wrapped. An older woman, who had been on our flight to Europe, and was on our cruise, fell and was sporting a black eye. She spent two days recouping from that incident. Calvi’s citadel is not for the weak-kneed or anyone who needs help walking!

Monaco, beautiful patterned pebbles to walk on.

Monaco, beautiful patterned pebbles to walk on.

Monaco had lovely walkways, easy to meander through. But near the prince’s palace, where we watched the changing of the guard, there was a beautiful inlayed pebbled area, so beautiful to see, but perhaps difficult for the pedestrians in heels. I just took pictures, and tried to stay off of it. Okay, honestly, I had to walk on it at least once to test it out. It was okay, just a little rough on the soles of my feet.

St. Tropez, more stone for people and cars.

St. Tropez, more stone for people and cars.

St. Tropez’ older areas had more St. Peter’s Stone’s as well as larger rectangular steps. And I do not like St. Peter’s Stone! To be honest this was my least favorite stop on our journey. However it had the best story about the paved roads. The walkways in the ancient area are all made of stone, slippery when wet. Our guide told us that when people tried to invade the city, the citizens would pour olive oil into the street, which made the hilly stone paths impossible to navigate. I wish I could have seen the invaders’ faces as the olive oil came oozing down the roads. The slipping and sliding was not funny to them, I am sure. What an ingenious idea!

The beautifully stone paved Rambla.  Easy to walk on.

The beautifully stone paved Rambla. Easy to walk on.

We ended our trip in Barcelona. The new parts of town have easy to walk on streets. And we loved walking on the Rambla! The stonework was so pretty with waves of color. And the stones were even and comfortable for walking. But the old, gothic city also had its stone and uneven pathways. However, I understand that these streets and paths are over 1,000 years old. So I am not complaining, I am just saying BE Careful.

Notice the difficult walking through the trails at Montserrat.

Notice the difficult walking through the trails at Montserrat.

Our final stop was Montserrat, a beautiful mountain and Monastery about an hour from Barcelona. This area is so breathtaking with its views and buildings. It has three main walking paths. We took one.   You can see that they are trying to repair the paths in some areas, in others it was quite the challenge.   But so worth the effort!

My legs are still recovering from the hard walking. To be honest, I went for a leg reflexology on the cruise ship. It was wonderful after all those stone steps. I gifted myself an extra long 75-minute leg and foot massage. I figured that my legs had done me well, and they deserved pampering. When I got home, I went for a pedicure with massage at Old Town. It helped as well. Sixty-two miles of walking on stone paths was perilous, but worth every step!

My Refrigerator Holds Memories in its Magnets

12 Mar

My refrigerator drives my husband crazy. Not the appliance itself, but rather the hundreds of magnets that have been placed on it over the years. Many of my friends have switched to stainless steel refrigerators, but I cannot do that . What would I do with my magnets?

When I see my magnets, I have memories. Many of these magnets I purchased on trips or at events. Some were gifts from a friend. But most hold special memories for me.

Thanks to a chance trip to an IKEA store and a wonderful magnetic board on which I moved many of my magnets, my magnet collection has areas of themes. Instead of a mishmash of magnets all over, I was able to make montages and delineate sections.   Well I think I have.

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There are the three magnets from Kauneonga Lake, NY, that highlight the Woodstock concerts. The oldest I bought at Vassmer’s when they had a little Woodstock museum set up in one of the storefronts.   One is from 1994 and the 25th anniversary of Woodstock. And the final one came from the BethEl Woods Museum, which celebrated the 40th anniversary in 2009.

I close my eyes and I am in Kauneonga Lake reliving that summer. Close to these magnets I keep a photo from the Catskills that includes my grandmothers and great aunt. There are other magnets near by, but it is the Catskills memory that stands out in this montage.

On the front of my refrigerator are all sorts of magnets.   Some from musicals I attended, others from places I visited. Some show sayings that I think are important.   My magnet collection seems very organized now. And it is.   Most of the magnets you see there are square or rectangle in shape creating organized lines upon lines of magnets.

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When I see a magnet from a favorite show, the music runs through my mind. I see the action and dance and the people who attended the show with me. Great memories.  My magnets hold up important notes and pictures written or drawn by my children or a special child friend.  These need a place to stay, and the refrigerator is that place.

In another corner of the freezer door, I keep my lucky magnets. Hamsas of different shapes and other magnets that I found on trips to Israel and Greece adorn this space.

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Interspersed throughout the magnets and all over the refrigerator are the photos of important people and children: my children, my nieces and nephews, my grandparents, cousins. The magnets hold up the photos, and in some cases the pictures are within magnet frames. All of these pictures hold a special place in my heart.

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The magnetic board I purchased at IKEA contains over 100 magnets from some of my favorite places: Disneyworld, Prince Edward Island and the Anne of Green Gables home, Bahamas, New York City, Aspen, Lego Land, New Orleans, Seattle. Looking at this board gives me joy because I remember so many wonderful places I traveled to with my husband and my family! I can remember the excitement in visiting each new place.

My husband did not appreciate my efforts of magnet organization. He thinks the refrigerator is still overwhelmed by magnets. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps I need to go back to IKEA and buy another magnetic board. The magnets will not disappear. The memories stored in my magnets are too important to me.

Amazing Coincidences After Finding My Ancestors; We Are One People

1 Feb

It has been a crazy time since I found out the lineage of my two times great grandmother Esther (Etka Lew) Wolff. I have connected with distant family through the Tracing the Tribe Facebook page. I have been welcomed to see our very large family tree on Geni. And I have found out who my ancestors were back to 1720.

Amazing.

But the amazement does not seem to end. In one of the many emails my two distant cousins sent me I saw that a branch of the family, one of my three times great uncles descendants migrated to Kansas City. What! I live in the Kansas City metro area. I have lived here for 18 years with no family except my immediate family. For a while my husband had cousins here, but they moved away. Now I find out I have distant cousins here. Really?

And then I thought about it. Many years ago, when the Bialystok Home for the Aged still existed and they still did a newsletter, I would get the “Bialystoker Stimmer.” I was a supporter of the Home for the Aged because my great grandparents, my grandma and my parents were always supporters. So the tradition continued.

In any case, in one issue I read, there was an article by a man and his daughter from Kansas City. And I knew his daughter. I mentioned the article to her, and we would joke about it and call ourselves “Landsmen,” which we were. So when I heard that I had distant cousins here, I immediately thought of her.

I sent her an email.

“What was your maiden name? I just found out that a branch of my family, last name Lew/Lewin/Levin moved to the Kansas City area. (Originally from Bialystok region). Just curious.”

She wrote back. And it all fit. They were from the same small town, Ciechanowiec. Her dad’s last name was Lewin but he changed it to Levine in the USA. We were third cousins.

And I thought that was all.

But my contacts back east (EW and AB), who had been feeding me all this information, were not done. They had heard of my friend/cousin. But there were others as well. They sent me a diagram. And asked if I recognized any other names. I did. One was a boy the same age as my son, they had gone to school together through second grade and had played together. The family belonged to the same synagogue my family belonged to. We have been friendly acquaintances for 20 years. We are related through the father.

I sent them an email because I find it all so interesting. I would never have expected to find family in Kansas! I am still in a state of determined amazement. Jew from the small Polish village of Ciechanowiec settled in Kansas and Missouri!

When my children were little they went to the local Jewish day school. My daughter used to feel sad sometimes because everyone was related to everyone else, except for her. She had no cousins at the school. I wish I had known this when they were little, as they were in school together, although their children were younger and more my son’s age. We might not be family, but they would have been ‘cousins.’

My daughter lives in Israel now. Many of her cousins who she is in contact with are also third cousins. These are branches of my family and my husband’s family that we have been in contact with forever. She has many second cousins, as my husband’s first cousin moved to Israel 27 years ago. These cousins have all been welcoming and loving. It is strange that some lines of the family stay in contact, and we see these cousins even with the distance in relationship; we consider ourselves close family.

But some lines of a family are lost over time. The movement from Europe. The aftermath of the Shoah; the younger generations moving away.   I had information from my Grandma and my Aunt mentioning these lines of the family, but we had no contact with them.

What an amazing coincidence to find some of these third and fourth cousins in Kansas. Of course we are distantly related. Third and fourth cousins are not so close. But it was surprising to find a connection where I was not expecting to find one.

But even more important, it shows that the Jewish people are really one. We are interconnected. My family, with its approximately 20,000 descendants is a perfect example of the inter-relations between all Jewish families. And even though a number of my family, from both my maternal and paternal sides perished in the Shoah, we remain.

That is the most amazing aspect of my continued search for my ancestors how we are truly one people.

 

https://zicharonot.wordpress.com/2015/01/27/serendipity-wins-in-finding-a-family-connection/

I Love Decorating for Hanukkah!

11 Dec

When I was growing up there was no such thing as Hanukkah decorations, except for owning a family menorah and several dreidels for my siblings and me.

We did have a major family Hanukkah party each year at my paternal grandparents.   All my aunts and uncles and cousins would come. We had latkes and potato kugel. Of course we each got a new little driedel and some chocolate Hanukkah gelt.   And then we each got a small gift from each of our aunts and uncles and grandparents. I always loved being with everyone.

When we got older my uncle, who was involved with the Broadway theaters, gave us each tickets to a show.   Now that was fun! All the cousins would go together during winter break and see some new show. Thanks Uncle Bernie! His gifts instilled in me a love of musical theater that continues!

But there was no decorating. My Christian friends all got to put up their trees and decorate their homes in a fantastic manner. Over the years I decorated lots of trees with many Christian friends. Dorothy and her mom had me over to decorate when I was very young. That was my first decorating experience. I enjoyed planning the perfect tree.

A high school friend, whose mother was German, would get special decorations each year from Germany. Included in them were chocolate circles covered in white sprinkles. I think they were called kringles.   We loved hanging them on the tree. And the ones that broke got eaten!

But for us, there was nothing.   And, yes, I do know that the holiday is not about decorating.   It is about celebrating the Maccabee triumph over the Greek/Syrians and religious freedom.   However, I still wanted decorations!

So imagine my joy when I had children and suddenly there were Hanukkah decorations! Lots of decorations everywhere, even here in Kansas!!   I went a little berserk!!

We could get Hanukkah banners and paper goods; tablecloths, napkins and aprons. Even Hanukkah towels to put in the kitchen and bathrooms are available now.   I have Hanukkah dishes and glasses!

The most exciting is that I could get these items at regular stores like Target and Bed, Bath and Beyond.   Hanukkah was mainstream. I went wild!!! Each year I decorate my house for Hanukkah.   And even though my children are adults, I still decorate! To be honest, I even buy new items each year!

hanukkah placemats

We even could get fabric with Hanukkah designs. Last year I had a friend who loves to quilt take all the Hanukkah fabric I had collected over the years and make placemats. They are lovely! This will be the first year that I can use them when I set the table with my wonderful dreidel dishes and glasses.

My favorite of all the newly available items are the numerous hanukkiahs and driedles. It used to be that families had just a simple brass ‘menorah’, with the eight branches and the higher spot for the Shamas. But now!!! Oh my goodness, there is a major change. First of all, we no longer call it a menorah. That is just for seven-branched candelabras. Now we use the Hebrew word, hanukkiah, which indicates the nine-branch candelabra used for the holiday.

I have hanukkiahs decorated with cats and favorite childhood characters. I have a hamsa hanukkiah and one that looks like the Kotel in Jerusalem.   I own about 12 hanukkiahs. And I love each and every one.   I actually keep my hanukkiahs out all year long. I have friends who own many more hanukkiahs!

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My driedel collection is another story.   I think I have over 100 driedels. Some are the little plastic ones that we got as children. But I also have lovely art driedels as well. Each year I take a number of them out and put them on display in the foyer of my home.   And each year I try to buy a new dreidel.

Draydel Store in Tel Aviv

This year was special. I spent the last week of November in Israel with my daughter. We walked through the new shopping area, Sarona, in Tel Aviv. There was a driedel store, called the Draydel House, Beyt HaSivivon.   Of course I had to purchase a dreidel there for my collection. It will be one of my Hanukkah gifts.

But I do not stop there, I even have a collection of stuffed Hanukkah bears. Yes I do. Every once in a while I see a stuffed bear decorated for Hanukkah and I have to buy it. I try to get two if possible, one for each of my children. But it is not always possible. I admit I do have Mickey Mouse holding a dreidel and other Disney Hanukkah decorations.

Hanukkah bears

Some might say that I have bought into the holiday hype. And I agree, I have. But it brings me so much joy to know that I can decorate my home and share my enthusiasm of my religion and my holiday with others.   I love decorating for Hanukkah. My enthusiasm will last as long as I do!

Take Mom to Work Day, at The Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel

1 Dec

My visit to Israel would not be complete without the ability to kvell about my daughter and her job. So I was excited when she told me that she would take me to work with her for a few hours to see her office and meet the people she works with at the Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel.

Situated in a unique glass and concrete building, the Peres Center for Peace is the vision of Shimon Peres, former president and prime minister of Israel and the recipient of the Noble Peace Prize. Now that he is retired from any political roles, and past the age of 90, he works each day at the Center, where he hopes that ideas and programs will help to create lasting peace between Israel and its Arab neighbors.

My daughter began working at the Center earlier this month, just a few weeks before I arrived. But it is her dream employment. With her master’s degrees in both Middle East Studies and the Politics of Conflict from Ben Gurion University in the Negev, she has wanted to devote her life to working for a world of peace.   In her previous job she did have a opportunity to work with non-profits that focused on community building, which gave her some satisfaction. But, now she has an opportunity to contribute. Yes it is in a small way, but she has a start. What mother would not kvell in delight and pride? So I will and I am.

A private tour through the building with my daughter was one of the highlights. It included a walk through the lovely auditorium, which faces the Mediterranean Sea. Just last week I saw pictures posted on the Center’s Facebook page of Peres meeting with a group in this very room. And in the back of the photo, I saw my daughter! Now I am walking down the stairs of the empty room and standing near the podium on the stage where Peres sat a few days ago!

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

We also visited the library, which one day will be open to the public. The library is an amazing space with ceilings that seem to reach to the sky, surrounded by walls made in alternating waves of glass and concrete.

Then we walked through the offices, where I met some of the people she works with each day. I enjoyed meeting every person, because now I have a face and a voice and a place for the people she had told me about. They are no longer just names floating in the internet cyberspace between the USA and Israel. Now they are real people who had the foresight to hire my daughter to join their important team.

Another highlight was to listen to her field a phone call from a potential volunteer who wants to help at the Center. My daughter (among other duties) is in charge of all volunteers and interns who want to also be a part of the Center and its work towards peace.

And it is okay that I did not meet Shimon Peres, I did not expect to. However, I looked through the frosted glass into the area where his office is located. And I saw the outlines of the people who were meeting with him. Again I kvell thinking that my daughter is working on the same floor as Peres. She told me the first time she saw him was on the elevator. How cool is that?

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter's office

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter’s office

As I sat in my daughter’s office, I looked out the window to Jaffa, and then to the Sea. I am looking at the view that she sees each work day. I look at this extremely modern building and it’s concrete floors, glass walls and wave like structures. I imagine my daughter working here for years as she lives her dream. But most important is the smile on her face and the joyful gleam in her eyes when she talks about her job!

On Facebook: The Peres Center For Peace. The one with over 16,000 likes. The other one is not it.

Thanksgiving in Israel, a Time of Blessed Rain

27 Nov

Garden Israel

For three days I have been in a rainy, stormy Israel. It is damp and torrents of rain and wind have left large puddles of water everywhere. Walking the streets of Tel Aviv is difficult as the gutters cannot take in the tremendous flows of rain water.

But my Israeli friends and relatives are happy. ‘Welcome to this time of blessed rain,” they say. Because in Israel rain is a blessing even as it caves in roads and causes minor flooding. The rain has been as far south as the Negev and as far north as the Golan.

But this morning is Thanksgiving. I have journeyed almost around the world to be here with my daughter and her boyfriend for this holiday. A trip to India with my husband turned into an adventure. Instead of returning home with him I traveled from Delhi, India, to Istanbul to Israel. All to spend a week here.

I am thankful that I arrived safely here as my husband journeyed safely to Kansas to be with our son. I am thankful that I can see where my daughter lives and works. I am thankful for the plans to see my relatives and friends while here. Even with the rain!

I am thankful for sunshine on Thanksgiving morning. And I am thankful for the blessed rain that has turned the ground damp and moist and the trees green and glowing in the sun.

After ten days in India where pollution and smog have turned the trees grey with soot and the buildings filthy, I also see the rain as blessed. After days of breathing in a film of pollutants and losing my voice to the irritants in the air, I wish blessed rain for Northern India. I hope its people and government can come together to clean the air and water. While I was in India I read daily articles about the pollution. But one of our cab drivers told us that when the rains come the trees sparkle green and the air freshens. Rain is a blessing in India as well.

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Israel divides our family as our daughter has lived here for several years. But though I am separated from my husband and son I feel the blessings of thanks and the joy of the blessed rain. I see how rain is vital as it provides moisture to the land and freshens the air.

I wish all a happy Thanksgiving and a time of blessed rain.

The Moves of Summer Result in New Beginnings

23 Sep

With the arrival of autumn, I look back on a hectic summer. Four members of the next generation of my family moved this summer, while at the same time my siblings and I did the final cleaning of the Catskill home that once belonged to our grandparents and parents. It was a summer of change.

One nephew spent the summer in Tulsa, Oklahoma, training for the “Teach for America” program. After traveling from New Jersey, he meet up with 100s of other college graduates to begin this adventure in Oklahoma. On his way back to Indiana, where he is teaching, he and a friend stopped overnight at my home in Kansas.

He wanted to see his cousins, especially my daughter, who lives in Israel and was visiting. We had a great time. His presence helped my daughter as she frantically packed, and he quietly played the guitar.

But in the morning, before he and his friend left, there was a slight issue. Would they be able to fit everything back in the car? And still have room for two 6’3” young men. Before they left Tulsa, they had just thrown everything in. Now it needed to be a bit more organized.

My nephew's car before he left for Indiana.

My nephew’s car before he left for Indiana.

 

That was my job, and I was happy to help. My family would tell you that I am a bit OCD about having things fit in place. I have a map in my brain that cannot be stopped. Spatial relationships work for me. No one loads my dishwasher, but me. And when I buy groceries, no one puts them away but me. I have a program, a diagram in my mind.

In any case, when they drove off, I will not say with room to spare, because there was none. But they had some legroom.

Next was my daughter, she was flying back to Israel. She had come with two, basically empty suitcases, her carryon packed inside the other, larger bag. She was returning with three, all full. I did not have to help her pack. She has my talent for fitting things in, even more so! I just had to judge weight. I am really good at judging the 50-pound limit.

My daughter's room in the middle of the packing mess.

My daughter’s room in the middle of the packing mess.

Then she was off! When she returned to Israel, she was also moving into a new apartment. Some of the items she took back with her were to decorate her new home.

My other nephew called me a few weeks later, on a Thursday. He lived in Lawrence, Kansas, where he earned a master’s degree in math…with honors.   His request, the movers were coming on Monday morning, and he needed help packing. I was glad to assist. My husband and I drove out to his apartment of three years on Sunday.

“Do you have boxes?” I asked. His entire kitchen needed to be packed. He did not. We left my husband at the apartment while we went off to purchase boxes. On the way we had the following conversation:

“I might have to give some of my clothing away,” he stated disappointedly.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well in the three years I have lived here, I have purchased new clothing, and they don’t all fit into my suitcases,” he replied.

I did not laugh out loud. I kept calm and said, “That is why we buy boxes.”

“You can put clothing in boxes?” He asked.

“Yes, I will show you later.”

And we went into the store and purchased boxes, tape and packing supplies. I had bought lots of bubble wrap and newspapers with me, but I needed a few extra items.

My husband put the boxes together as I packed the kitchen. I had four boxes sitting on the floor as I analyzed where to place what items and how to pack most successfully without breakage. I gave my nephew four Tupperware containers to put in a box. He threw them in. “No,” I cried. “Put one inside the other. They take less space.”

“How do you figure out where to put what?” He asked.

At this point my husband looked up from his e-book and spoke out, “Think of it as a mathematical problem. That is what she is doing.”

One nephew taped boxes after I packed them.

One nephew taped boxes after I packed them.

It helped, that is when my nephew saw a little light in understanding on how to pack.

After I finished the kitchen, and we had packed other items, I had one large box left. “Bring me your clothes now.   Keep them on the hangers,” I told my nephew.

“ON the hanger?” He was stunned. “How will you fit them all in the box?

As I folded the clothes in half and put them in the box, I looked up at him. “Bring me more!”

He was elated. “They compress,” he said. And they do. The clothes compress and they all fit in the box.

“This is great,” he exclaimed.   “I can just hang them up in the closet when I get there.”

I was laughing at loud at this point. I even tried to text my sister, but I was laughing too much to send a coherent sentence.

He came and lived with us for a few days before driving to Florida with a friend. He is going to study for his PhD in math.   Before they left, I analytically loaded his car so everything fit including the two young men. Success.  My organizing talents were coming in to good use!

I left a few days after he left to visit my sister in New Jersey for a week. We went up to our Catskills home and met up with our brother. He had ordered a 20-cubic yard dumpster to be delivered. “We cannot leave till this is filled.” He said.

My brother filling the dumpster.

My brother filling the dumpster.

I thought, “No way.” But we filled it!

We emptied out the basement, garage and attic of all the junk accumulated over 52 year. What amazed me is that we had been slowly cleaning this house out for two years, in bits and pieces. But I never imaged we had that much more that needed to be ousted from the bowels and hiding places. Now the house is ready for life again. We will be spending more time up there. And all the junk is gone; the dumpster was filled!  (Do not worry, anything that can be recycled, will be.  The items that could be used were given away!)

I returned home from New Jersey and New York, to my son’s move. He left his small one bedroom apartment to move in with a college friend. This move was a little smoother. He and his girlfriend had been packing while I was gone. And he was just moving across the parking lot to a two-bedroom place.

Setting up the kitchen in my son's apartment.

Setting up the kitchen in my son’s apartment.

 

My son, three friends and his girlfriend did all the moving. I stayed in the new apartment and put the kitchen together; lined shelves, put away dishes, glassware, utensils and food. Then I loaded books, videos and games into bookcases. I also directed the boys and where to place the furniture. We got it mostly done in about four hours on a Friday. WOW.   His roommate moved in on Sunday. I was exhausted and did not have to help with his move.

Four moves and a house cleansing — sort of like four weddings and a funeral. The moves are all new beginnings for my nephews, son and daughter. Cleaning the house was, in a way, like a funeral. As we cleaned away the items in the attic, basement and garage, we found treasures that brought back wonderful memories. We sat and talked.  My sister, nieces and I shared memories.  My brother said we were doing the harder work, looking at all the memorabilia.

New beginnings for our children and for us as we celebrate a new year with sweetness and joy.

My Family’s Holocaust History Impacts My Observance of Rosh Hashannah

13 Sep

As Rosh Hashannah approaches, I have a new view of my family’s heritage, a new reality that will impact my observance and prayers this year and in all future years.

It started with a Facebook Group called, “Tracing the Tribe.” I actually was able to find a family member due to a blog I posted about my grandfather’s family history and his town in Austia/Galecia called Mielec. I met Susan when I was in New Jersey this summer. It is actually her husband who was related to me.

We spoke about the family and how we might be related. I actually found the connection. My great grandfather and her husband’s great grandmother are probably brother and sister.

She emailed me a testimonial written by her husband’s first cousin, “E”, about her Holocaust experience. “E” survived the Holocaust and settled in the USA. In this memoir, “E” recounts a story about the Jews of Mielec and how they died. She wrote that 600 were rounded up and burned alive in their synagogue. She received this information from relatives in Mielec.

What! I was somewhat stunned. No one had ever mentioned this to me before. Whenever there was discussion about our family who died, we were told that they were burned alive in the fires of the Holocaust; or that some had died in Auschwitz; or that my great grandmother had been hidden and then murdered by the people who had stolen the family farm. But this story was never mentioned. Never.

But I remember thinking, when my Mom would tell me that our family was burned alive, that in the crematorium, the people were dead before they were burned. Weren’t they? So why would I be told that they were burned alive? Could this be what happened?

My Grandfather never talked about his family. He lost almost everyone who still lived in Europe: his parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, cousins. Everyone! Only a few cousins survived. When I finally got him to talk to me and tell me about his family, he was vague when talking about the Holocaust. He would tell me a little about life when he was a boy. But he did not like to mention the names of the dead.

When I found out that Germany was giving money to those who could prove they had owned property, I suggested that he apply to get money for the family’s farm.

He was furious. “Will this money bring back my mother and my father?” He yelled at me. “Will this money bring back my brothers and my sisters and their families? NO! NO! I don’t want their blood money! Let them keep their blood money!”

I can still hear him yelling at me. So I stopped. I never asked again.

My mother told me that a relative, Zissle Feuer, came from Europe and told my grandfather what had happened. And then my Grandfather contacted the Red Cross. Everyone was confirmed dead. My mother was about 16 when they found out that everyone died. She said that every morning when my Grandpa came upstairs from the bakery she would hear him cry while sitting at the kitchen table; sobbing over the loss of his family.

Now I read this testimonial. What is the truth? How did they die? “E” was not there. She only heard about it. So I looked through all the papers I had gathered through the years. And I found one document that I guess I never read entirely. I just read the part about the city of Mielec before the war. I never read the section that was call Holocaust Years. Because there it states, halfway down the page, that on September 13, 1939, on the eve of Rosh Hashannah, 20 Jewish were pushed into a burning synagogue. If they tried to escape they were shot. Then the German soldiers put Jews into a slaughterhouse and set it on fire. Then they went to the Mikveh and killed Jews there. On the second day of Rosh Hashannah a second synagogue was set on fire.

So many burned alive on Rosh Hashannah. I do not know if it was 600, but even one is too many. What a horrible death!

How can I ever see Rosh Hashannah in the same way again? How can I understand that on this holiday my family might have been murdered, burned alive. Up until September of 1939 there were 4,000 Jews living in Mielec. When they were deported in March 1942 only 2,000 were still alive.

Did 600 get burned alive in the four buildings set ablaze during Rosh Hashannah of 1939? Did my great aunts, great uncles and cousins suffer in those flames? Did my great grandfather die there? Is this why my Grandfather could never talk about it? Did he know that is how most of his family perished? When my mother said they were burned alive, did she know as well?

Was it just too horrible to tell us?

Mielec, the home of my family, was one of the first to be totally depleted of its Jews. This report said only 200 Jewish people survived the war: 200 out of 4000. I know that four of them were cousins of my grandfather. I met them all: one settled in Montana; one in England; two in Israel. They have all since passed away.

On Rosh Hashannah we chant the Unetanah Tokef.   It is a prayer that has always made an impact on me. But this time when I read “who by water and who by fire,” I will be wondering: “Who died this way? Who?”

And I will chant Kaddish.

Movie Night in the Catskills Was A Wonderful, Magical Night

24 Jul

It was our Saturday night tradition at the Ritz Theatre in White Lake, NY. In the late afternoon, early evening, we children would go to the early movie with our grandmas: Grandma Esther, Grandma Rose, Grandma Thelma, Mrs. Anoff. They chaperoned about nine or ten children and kept us safe.

Our dads would drop us off at the front of the theater with money for the movie and snacks. We were supposed to be very careful there as it was at the intersection of 17B and 55. So there actually was a bit of traffic.

I think our grandmas would collect all the money and pay. However, when we got a little older, we were allowed to buy our own tickets. If you were under 12 it was one price, over 12 you paid the adult fare. It was always sad when someone had a summer birthday and turned 12. They now had to pay much more!

Our parents, in the early 1960s.  Kauneonga Lake, NY.

Some of the parents, in the early 1960s. Kauneonga Lake, NY.

Our fathers, in the meantime, would then go home to get ready for Date Night with our moms. It was their special time together.

We would watch whatever movie was showing that week. The movie I remember the most was “To Cast A Giant Shadow” about the Israeli War of Independence and Colonel David “Mickey” Marcus, the American officer who helped with ending the siege of Jerusalem. It actually had a major impact on my life choices.

For this movie, I sat next to my Grandma Rose.   Grandma Rose, was really my cousins’ grandma, but that did not matter. We shared grandmas in the Catskills. In any case, Grandma Rose lived through the siege of Jerusalem with her husband, Grandpa Asher, and my Uncle Jack.

While we watched the movie, Grandma Rose spoke to me throughout, telling me what happened to her in 1948. She told me what really happened during the siege. What in the movie was true, what was just fiction. She told me about the lack of water and food. She told me about the day they finally left Jerusalem and how difficult that day was for her and Grandpa Asher. How she looked back knowing she might never live in Jerusalem, her Jerusalem again. She never did. They moved to the USA.

I was eleven years old when “To Cast A Giant Shadow” came out in 1966. But this movie and the story of Jerusalem stayed with me my entire life. It was because of this movie and Grandma Rose’ commentary, that I went to Israel eight years later to spend my sophomore year of college at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. I lived in both the Givat Ram and the HaHasofim campuses.

I was able to go freely between both the old city of Jerusalem and the new city. I saw the places Grandma Rose had told me about, as well as, the places I saw in the movie.

While I was gone, Grandma Rose passed away. My parents did not tell me. They did not want it to be in a letter. In those days we had no cell phones, no computer, no Skype. I found out when I got home. I was heartbroken.  I wanted to tell her all about the Jerusalem, where I lived and how it had returned to one city.   But I never got the chance.

But I always remembered that one movie and Grandma Rose.

Movie night was always an exciting night. Without television, cable, VCRs, DVDs, Netflex, we looked forward to going to the movies one day a week. Even when we got older and did not need our grandmas to go with us, we would still go in a group to the movies. Then we would go to Poppy’s for ice cream after the movie ended. It was always a good time. Even on dates we went as couples with someone else. It seemed odd to go out with just one other person. Sometimes we even ran into our parents at the ice cream parlor. So strange, so different from when we were children.

Because when we were young, our dads would come to pick us up after the movies. When we were settled in back at our bungalows, the parents would go out. They were dressed up, looking fine. Many times they were just going to the movies as well. Sometimes, they went to a show at one of the many hotels or bungalow colonies to see a comedian or musical. It was a wild time in the Catskills.

We always knew when they went to a show because they came home with one of those keychain photo viewers. We loved them. I found some when we cleaned out my parent’s apartment and I brought one back to Kansas with me.

My parents always went out extra special on Fathers’ Day weekend because their wedding anniversary was June 17. They had spent part of their honeymoon at Grossinger’s before heading up to the Finger Lakes and exploring on their own. So a special evening out at Grossinger’s was often their anniversary celebration destination.

Movie nights changed after the Ritz in White Lake closed. We then traveled to Liberty or Monticello to go to the movies. But the magic still remained. Movie night in the Catskills was a wonderful, magical night.

Something Evil this way comes…and it is not Israel

22 Jul

Like many mothers in the United States, I have a child who made aliyah (immigrated) to Israel. My daughter studied for her two master’s degrees at Ben Gurion University in the Negev, where she earned degrees in Middle East Studies and the Politics of Conflict. She currently works for a consultant company that helps NGOs (Non-Government Agencies/non-profits) who work toward community building, understanding, helping women and children throughout Israel.

I taught my daughter from an early age to respect everyone’s right to exist in a peaceful world with no fear. That we need to work for interfaith understanding and community.  She listened to me and has tried to help create such a world.

But she saw her place in Israel. And as a mother of an adult child, I could only accept her choices.

When she studied in Israel she lived through missile attacks from Hamas before the Iron Dome defense system went into effect. She learned to take cover and run to a bomb shelter. When she came home one spring, she was concerned about the tornado sirens in Kansas. Would they sound like bomb sirens, and be just too unsettling? But no our sirens do not sound like the ones she was used to in Israel.  The same sirens she is hearing now as she rides her bicycle to work and must run for cover.

Now she, like millions of other Israelis, have been under attack from Hamas for days, months, years. And the world said nothing. NOTHING. They say nothing about the hundreds of thousands killed in Syria, nothing about those being killed in Libya, Nothing.

But when Israel starts to fight back and Hamas uses innocents as shields, Then the world talks. Israel is doing everything it can not to kill women and children.  And I am not saying they are always successful.  But they try.  Remember when the US was in Afghanistan and Iraq, we, yes we, the USA, killed many more civilians.  War is horrible and civilians die.  But when Israel fights back and bombs rocket launching sites that have purposely been placed near schools, hospitals and  residential areas, Israel is blamed.  The UN even found bombs in one if its schools.

Why, because Anti-Semitism still exists and it is like a snake that comes out of hole in the ground and strikes.

Anti-Semitic riots have occurred in France and other countries. Why is not the world rioting about Syria? Why not about Hamas and what it has been doing? Why doesn’t Egypt want to help the Gaza? Because the government of Egypt is afraid of the evil of Hamas!

Do not ask me if I feel stressed. I Do!

Do not ask me if my child is in the military. It does not matter. She is under attack whether or not she serves in the military.

Do not ask me if I want her to come home. For her she is home. As for me, really what do you think if it was your child?

You want to do something. Then tell those who hate for no reason, that Israel is not the enemy here. That evil comes from within Gaza where financial aid has not been used to help better the life of its citizens, but instead has been used to buy weapons from Syria and Iran. Has been used to build tunnels to attack Israel. Has destroyed what Israelis left behind when they left Gaza.

That’s right. They left Gaza. Gaza is not occupied by anyone but Hamas.

Something evil this way comes, and it is not Israel. It is terrorists. And terrorists/fanatics do not stop. They must be stopped.