Echoes of Memory

A Blissful Event

The year was 1963, and I was serving in the Israeli air force. I worked as a programmer on that famous huge Philco computer that filled a whole floor.

Reflections on Pope Francis’s Visit

An article by Washington Post columnist E. J. Dionne Jr. during the pope’s visit to Washington, DC, in 2015 touched me deeply and brought back some old memories. During World War II I was a child in Poland. I am Jewish, and I wanted to live—which was contrary to what the German occupiers had in mind. After a few close calls where we had to hide to avoid being caught and killed or transported to a concentration camp, my brave mother purchased false identity papers from a Catholic priest for my baby sister, me, and herself. She then took us to a town where we were not known and where we would go by our new assumed names and religion. My part was to go to school, attend church, and act like a Catholic child. I was eight years old and had no knowledge of this religion.

Why Tell Our Stories

Wrapped in history Hearing our words go out in the world.

Waterways

The Vltava River, called the Moldau in German, is the longest river in the Czech Republic, running along the Bohemian forests and then meeting the Elbe at Melnik flowing toward Prague. It is called the Czech national river.

History, Religion, Ignorance

The greatest injustice in history happened to the Jews. Jews found God and the ways to pray. They used music and singing to praise God. They designated a place, then a building, then buildings for worship. Christians and Muslims pray to the same God that the Jews found. They also built places for worship. There is music and singing in churches. So Jews should have been appreciated, since the other two religions originated from Judaism. Instead Jews got hate.  

Mima

Sadly, I have no personal memories of Mima. All I know about her comes from countless photographs of an always serious looking dark-skinned woman with her sleek black hair almost always combed back into a bun, of a few words of Mima’s native languages, Maleis, of a taste for Indonesian cooking, and, of course from the many stories about her that my foster siblings, Dewie, Wille, and Robby, shared with me.

They Took My Father Away

They took my father away. They came one evening and took him away on a stretcher. Two policemen in blue uniforms bent over the black, blanketed heap And heaved up the poles And opened the door and left.

No Choice

The choice was made, Alone she would travel To a foreign country A new family To safety

A Fateful Letter

Long, long ago, it was sensational to receive a letter. We used to wait for the mailman impatiently. A letter could change plans, change lives, and fates.

My Street