When Is a Pen More than a Pen?
Of all the mementos—either already or soon-to-be artifacts at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum—the pen and I have a special relationship that I am reluctant to end.
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Strong Women
My dad used to say, “Your Mom is as courageous as a lion.”
A Kind Gesture
On a Friday afternoon in September, I started coughing. I thought it was no big deal.
Guilt
My dad was a survivor of both Auschwitz and Buchenwald. After liberation, as he traveled home to Mukačevo, he left a message in every city along the way for anyone in the family who had survived.
Closure, Part II
Closure has many definitions in dictionaries, as well as professional guidelines where the word is part of the terminology or jargon. In my experience, closure means different things to different individuals.
The Child Who Thought She Knew Better and the Gold Bag
I wanted to help my mother, you see, and at the same time to establish a certain authority about myself.
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.
Last Night I Dreamt of My Father
Last night I dreamt of my father. He was not my father as I remembered him. He was another man, and yet my father. His face and clothes were from another time, Another place.
The Bridge
The prettiest bridge I have ever seen is the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.
Enduring Melodies
If someone could grant me one wish, I would ask, without hesitation, for perfect pitch. The people I envy are the ones who can play music by ear. I love music and would love to be able to play an instrument, any instrument. Although if a second request would be honored, my choice of instrument would be cello or maybe clarinet.