Four Generations

Not every day there is an opportunity to have four generations under one roof.

I was lucky in the last month to be surrounded by my son, some of my grandchildren and many of my great-grandchildren.

When one of my grandsons visited me, he wanted to go out into the yard with the little one and saw how neglected it is. Whereupon he organized, as a surprise for my upcoming 89^th birthday, a whole bunch of them. On a Friday morning at 9.00 o'clock in the morning, some 20 people of all ages turned up, and hoed and collected all garbage that had accumulated since I could no longer cope with it by myself. They cleared up the yard that surrounds my flat and at lunchtime ordered Pizza. I joined them and together we consumed the Birthday cake.

A mere couple of weeks later, my grandson, who is a leader of a Hiking Youth Group, asked to tell them my life story as he has heard from me at previous occasions. They were ten of them and 15 years old. I agreed and we fixed a date.

I then got a request by my 13 year old great-grandson from Beer Sheva if he could join.  After a couple of days he asked if could bring a friend along. I agreed. In the end fife of them made arrangement to come to Jerusalem by bus to Jerusalem, my son would pick them up at the bus station. So I had a houseful of different ages.

To begin with I tried to explain the relationship between a great-grandmother and her great-grandson. For him and his mates it really was part of their school assignment, to find out about their family roots.

Before we started a boy with an I Pad took a picture of four generations, me, my son Danny, my grandson Matan and my great-grandson Nadav.

With the power point projection I shared with the whole bunch of children my story, and often told them when I was your age, that is what happened to me.

They all listened with great attention. They returned home and were glad to have had the opportunity to be with me, to hear my story.

For me it made the day and I am pleased, that the present generation takes an interest in what happened a long time ago.

Encounter with the Other

In preparation to meet with an Inter-faith group
 from the USA I prepared the following
 which I would like to share with you. 

When did I first encounter the other?

At home, where I was born, in Glogau in Silesia.  In school I was the only Jewish girl in my class in a Catholic school.

In Germany we did not live in Ghettos. Lutherans Catholic and Jews lived in the same neighborhood, door to door, had their shops in the same vicinity.

All told the Jews were only 0.8 % of the total population within Germany.

All this changed when the Nazis came to power. Total segregation followed.

With one of the Kinder-transports I came, aged 15, to England. There we were considered not only as refugee children, but as foreigner, when war broke out as Enemy Alien.  There we were allowed to work as an agricultural worker or domestic help in restricted arias, all within a strange surrounding.

My father perished in 1943 in Theresienstadt and my mother 1944 in Auschwitz.

May 1945 as soon as the war in Europe was over, I came to Palestine.

From the beginning I encountered the other, be it Jews from other countries or the local Arab population, who lived in nearby villages. I participated in the war of independence. Later I lived in mixed Arab and Jewish towns like Akko, Haifa and Jerusalem.

1960 studied to become a Tourist guide, which included intensive Inter-religious Studies, with Prof. Flusser and others. That is when I joined the IIA Israel Interfaith Association, which was founded many years earlier, and was led at the time by Dr. Falk and Michael Krupp.

My children joined the Scouts and eventually I became a Scout master and founded and led a group in one of our developing cities. Summer camps were a joint Jewish and Arab adventure. 1971 we also invited German scouts to join us for an international and inter-faith Scout Jamboree.

 In the 70' and 80' I studied Sociology and Education at the Haifa University which was opened especially in the north of the country, to facilitate Arabs to study near home.

1988 was invited for a lecture tour in Germany and spoke in schools, Universities and communities in many different towns, and did this annually for 20 Years. My hosts were mainly Pastors or teachers of religion.

1989 presented a paper "Who will be the voice in the Future" at the Scholars conference in the USA.

1995 when I was widowed, moved to Jerusalem and carried on with Inter-faith work.

Lea Green from the States gave a workshop "Compassionate Listening" in Jerusalem for Israelis and Palestinians. The second one took place in Bethlehem. The third one had to be divided because of the Intifada, but we did meet in Tantur for a one day session, I participated at all of them and kept in touch with Lea. On my initiating, she also held similar workshops in Germany.

With the Israeli Interfaith Association we visited Chan- Junis and Nablus and met in Jerusalem. Michael Krupp still publishes the three- Faith- Calendar each year.

Soon after that the Interfaith Encounter was founded by Dr. Jehuda Stolov. Many different groups were started all over the country.

December 2001 we started a women's group, led by Elana Rozenman. We had regular monthly meetings, in spite of the Intifada and an occasional joined outing to meet other groups.

When my grandson in 2002 fell during the fighting in J`enin, women from all Faith visited me.

2003 Father Shoufani from Nazareth together with a Muslim Journalist Nasir Ma'dali and a Jewish woman decided to pay a joined Inter-faith visit to Auschwitz. We had several preparatory meeting beforehand including a visit to Yad Vashem.

The visit was an outstanding experience for all of the 250 participants. There is a DVD available about this trip.

 Elana founded "Trust" which I co-founded with her. It is run in a similar way, trying to help people to overcome prejudices and to trust each other.  A few months ago we had a 10 year anniversary.

I belong to several other groups, meeting of Jews, Christian's incl. Armenians and Muslim, where we introduce and study different aspects of each other's Faith.

To "Encounter with the Other", you have to get up and do so. You have to be willing to explain yourself, without trying to convince the "Other" that your way is the only right way.

By encountering the other face to face, on an equal level can you get to know each other.

         As an old saying goes,"Many Roads led to Rome". 

The summer is over

The summer is over and so are our Jewish autumn feasts. Between one and the other I managed, like so many other old women, to fall and break the hip bone. It needed to be operated on and was for 10 days in hospital. With the greatest of devotion my son Danny looked after me. Not only in hospital feeding me and seeing to all my needs. He also prepared the house for the new situation. Working his way through the bureaucracy and using the internet to find out step after step, which office does what and when. When he took me out of hospital everything was ready, including a wheelchair and a daily help. That made the recovery much easier and better. I still have to learn how to walk but I am on the way. Already a couple of groups came to my house to listen to The Story of a Jewish family - my family.

Slowly I am getting back to mo my old routine, but slightly more restricted. Quite a few people missed me and I have had many visitors. I have to get used to a slower pace. But to be honest I am still fighting to keep as much of my in-dependency as is possible. Sometimes in small portions, such trying to get dress at least the upper part, or being part of the decision making process, or what and when I would like to eat. 

Even so I am restricted in my leg movements, I can still use my brain. It is so easy to fall into the trap of being served. But then comes the question "Who am I?" And as long as I can, I hope to be able to conduct my life as best as I can and remain a useful person within my locality, help others where I can and accept help when and where needed. All this is part of growing old. This my present motto. I hope I can live up to it.

I feel blessed

Having contact with the following generations, gives me the feeling of continuity and belonging. The inter-generation relationship is not self understood. It needs to be developed and worked at. Recently I participated at an inter-generation drama workshop.

We were eight holocaust survivors and eight young people doing their alternative army service. The two groups were strangers to each other. We had to get to know each other, by talking with each other. Half way through the season, the drama counselor announced that we will give four performances at the local community center. The counselor had written the script according to what we had learned one from the other during our weekly sessions. In the end the performance was in pairs or mixed groups showing the inter-generation relationship. My part was about sharing my computer skill and dancing with my partner and my stroller. The performance was enjoyed by the audience as well as by the actors.

Last week I was lucky to be part of a spontaneous birthday celebration of the grandfather with a family who usually invite me for the Shabbat meal. The grandchildren dressed up and mimicked their grandfather's behavior towards them on his birthday. There was a lot of humor, laughter.  Plain enjoyment was had by all.

This week, the extended family gathered at Chavat Eyal, the animal farm in Kibbutz Ramat Rachel for the fourth birthday of one of my many great-grandchildren. My granddaughter had roped in aunts and uncles as well as the child's grandparents (my daughter and son in law) in order to perform for the children the story from a children's book about the arrival of a new edition to the family. They were all dressed up as animals and came to inspect that funny new creature, until the birthday child dressed up as a lion explained to them that that was his new brother. It was a gorgeous and funny performance. There was more laughter than acting.

It is always a treat for me to be with the ever growing extended four generation family that I am blessed with.

My son Danny makes sure to take me wherever I would like to be. He just packs my stroller into his jeep and heaves me in. Without him I would miss out on a lot of fun.  

Springtime is coming to a close.

Springtime is coming to a close and summer is pushing in. It was an intensive period for me. Starting with Tu Beshwat - the New Year of the trees, I was asking where the family will meet for Pesach. Purim came along and was soon followed by every body's spring cleaning efforts, sometimes cleaning their own while dirtying the neighbor's windows from below.

In honor of my great-grandsons Barmizva, my grandson, a doctor living in Beer- Sheva, was trekking of several days all the way to Jerusalem. Somewhere on the halfway trek he was met by some more of my grandchildren with their children. My son took me along to meet up with them. It was a gorgeous day in the mountains of Judea, 4 generations being together. The love for our country gets into everybody's heart through their feet.

For Erev Seder Pesach the close family got together and Danny as always, took me along. For lunch the next I joined with the Zuckerman family with loads of children mingling around and a very festive religious atmosphere where everybody joined in the conversation about the exodus of the children of Israel from the slavery in Egypt.

Within a few days Yom Hashoa followed. Tuesday morning I got a phone call from the neighborhood Television station if I was prepared for them to come and interview me. They came along almost immediately and with cameramen and all. That was  for two whole hours. They wanted to know everything. That same day, the eve of Yom Hashoa I appeared on television for all of 4 minutes. 

Throughout the year I was involved in researching together with Dr. Judith Reifen the founding of Youth Aliyah by Recha Freier. 1932 a group of Jewish youngsters turned to her to help them find work for them. Nobody wanted to employ them because they were Jewish. 80 years ago Recha had a dream, a vision, if it was only possible to send these and other youngsters to Palestine to work half day in a Kibbutz and study the other half day. Due to her unrelenting efforts Youth Aliyah was established and several thousand of youngster's life could be saved.

At this year's ceremony in the Judean hills by the Fire Scroll, arranged annually by Bnai Brith and KKL-the Jewish National Fund, Recha Freier and Josef Indig, then a young youth leader in Yugoslavian, were honored. Their descendents were presented with the "Jewish Rescuers Citation" on behave of Bnai Brith and the committee to recognize the Heroism of Jews who rescued Fellow Jews before and during the Shoa.

Prior to the start of the ceremony I gave a talk to a bunch of soldiers from the Border Police. At the ceremony were several speakers and I was one of them. I represented the thousands who were thus saved.

Danny took me home for a short break and a Police car picked me up the give a talk at their Traffic Police Headquarters somewhere in the Judean Dessert.

The following week was Memorial Day for our fallen soldiers followed by Independence Day. The Border Police has for some years been looking after several Shoa survivors and invites us to their ceremonies. This time I was given the honor to light up the memorial torch as a survivor and in memory of my grandson Eyal Yoel who fell ten years ago during the battle in Jenin.

The following day, Independence Day I stayed home and watched on Television, other people enjoy themselves. I saw the Youth Bible Contest, the giving out of the annual Israel Price for outstanding efforts in different fields and some more.  That was much easier for me.

Now I am back to my weekly routine, or almost. For everyday something new crops up. I have to keep checking my calendar to make sure I don't forget what it is that I had planned to do and if there is time to fit something unexpected in.

Past und Future.

How fortunate I am, that I have a past as well as a future, ancestors and descendents.

I have long family tree to look back upon, and three generation that come after me. The past helps to shape the present and the present shapes the future. I know where I come from and can see where the generations that follow me are going too. That gives me a feeling of permanence, of belonging and of continuation. It is a "people" that I feel I belong too. That same "people" has a way of continuing long after the single individual has gone. As an individual I live but a limited time – from birth till death, but the people that I belong to, have lived long before me and will continue to live long after I am gone.

Throughout life I weave into one group or another, contributing from myself as best as I can. It may be from my accumulated knowledge, or it may be from my thoughts and inspiration, as they say in German "Weltanschauung". My doing leaves an in-print in others, the same way that others leave an in-print in me. The world is made for us to live in. Only in a mutual give and take can we exist.

The body time of the individual is limited, but his spirit lives on.

What you make of life is up to you. You have to give it substance and meaning. Giving purpose to your life is up to you. What has happened, has happened, how you cope under different circumstances is up to you.

Feeling is not really remembered, but your interpretation of them is what you remember. You may have had traumatic experiences. How you handle it, how you interpret it or how you shape your life after that experience that is entirely up to you.

Your own wellbeing is only as good as you make it under different circumstances, often difficult ones. Life goes on.

As one of my ancestors said, "The wind and the waves are there, but the steering wheel that will take you to a save harbor, is in your hands".

It is about time to say something.

The year 2011 has come to an end. So what? What has changed? Well, I am a year older. But what does that mean to me? Just that I carry on as best as I can under the changing circumstances. I am slower these days and still think that I can do as much as before, which of course is not possible, in spite of the fact that I do have help with my household scores, shopping and taking me out on my daily walk. My son Danny assists me wherever and whenever he can.

I still participate wherever I can, especially if it is nearby and I can get there without having to bother somebody to take me along. Within the last few months I had an exhibition of some of my paintings, took part in a small show of an inter-generational drama group, still write articles about growing old and was the moderator for a book presentation. Andrea von Treuenfeld collected interviews from 16 women who told her their tale, my story is also included. The title of the book: "In Deutschland eine Juedin, eine Jeckete in Israel."

At a special occasion of the tenth anniversary of inter-religious women encounters I was presented with a Certificate of Appreciation for my dedicated service in this field.

Chanukah some youngsters from the religious Scouts come to my house to light the candles with me and another night I spend with my grandchildren and 13 of my great-grandchildren, number 14 is on the way.

I wish all my readers that their wishes for the coming year 2012 should be fulfilled. I hope to see some of you when you visit Israel this coming year and hear from others.

It is always good to have good friends

My grandson Matan, the eldest son of my son Danny is going to be married. Apart from the close family, the invited guests were mainly ex-soldier friends and fellow students of the couple.

The bride's family, live in the far north of the country. Near there is where the wedding is going to take place.

Not a catered affair but it was to be an all night joyful get together of young people under the stars. The brothers and friends and their uncle prepared the grounds days beforehand, brought straw mats, mattresses, pillows and low tables for the wedding feast. Lighting and all the necessary trimmings were being taken care of by them.

My son, his wife and her mother and sister who arrived specially for this joyous occasion from the States will spend the night after the wedding in a hotel nearby, in Miilia, a Christian Arab Village.

What about me? I need my bed and my bathroom for my personal comfort. We cast around for somebody to accompany me, drive me there and back to Jerusalem, most of those asked being engaged otherwise.

While mentioning my needs to a couple of friends from Austria, a schoolteacher and a school director, who come every year to Jerusalem to volunteer for a couple of weeks in old age homes, they immediately volunteered to do this service for me. They had a rented car and had never been to an Israeli wedding and were free on that day.

Danny printed out the exact route for them. He suggested we leave at 13.00 o'clock to hopefully avoid the traffic jams.

My friends, while driving through the lower and western Galilee, were astonished at the beautiful countryside that so far they had never seen. We stopped at the hotel in Maiilia for a drink under an Olive tree and a change of clothes. From there, with the rest of the family we drove through the village and via an unpaved dirt road the prepared wedding site.

An unusual beautiful view awaited us, to the north the mountains of Lebanon and to the west a glorious sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. With that as a backdrop at around 19.00 hours the traditional "Chupa" (Baldachin) ceremony, conducted by the local Rabbi took place. The other grandmother and I, (holding on to Danny's hand) were privileged to stand with the parents under the Chupa. Everything was beautiful orchestrated. After the ceremony the young people danced, dined and wined and a good time was had by all.

For me it was a real pleasure, see all my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren participating at this special occasion and introduce them to my friends, who kept taking photos and taking it all in as a very unusual and special treat for them.

The all night feast was at its heights, but for us it was getting late. We quietly said good bye and in the dark night carefully navigated our way home, arriving well after midnight in Jerusalem.

How good it is to have good friends.

Getting rid of extra baggage

Growing old can become pretty complicated when illness strikes. While recuperating I had to find ways to ease life. My desk and shelves were so cluttered that I could hardly find what I was looking for. Being practically homebound and having help coming in, I used the opportunity to clear up, clear out and throw out, tons of paper and extra baggage.

I had kept handouts from seminars and workshops or international conferences that I had given or attended, there was much background material that I had collected for writing articles or preparing my presentations. Over the last few years I had just made piles of it, left it on my desk, as the shelves were overflowing with files.

My help pulled out pile after pile, I sorted it out and threw away most of it, print outs, old magazines, and what else had accumulated.

When this was done I did the same with my paintings. For the last twenty year I had painted once a week. My walls are adorned by my paintings, others that had been framed to hang in exhibitions, while most of them were just accumulating in a box under the bed. I found an art student (future) who took a great many of them for reuse, as well as half empty tubes of paint, charcoal, and what else I no longer needed.

Slides? Who takes slides today? When many years ago I traveled with a backpack to Asia, Africa or to America and Europe, on my return I gave slid shows in clubs and old age homes as well as to travelers to be. Hundreds of them were standing around neatly stacked and marked, together with the projector and nobody needs or wants them. Out they go. Once upon a time I also had my own darkroom and enlarging apparatus. That too had to go.

Slowly I have more breathing space, but still much more to sort out give away or throw out.

As I shrink with old age, my world shrinks, but my memories, at least the long term memory is still intact. Looking back I enjoy having lived an interesting life.

Sorting out and throwing out what no longer is relevant, is part of the survival tactics. The less baggage you have, the easier it is to survive in old age.

June 2011 Life moves on and on

Much has changed since my last writing. I had serious health-problems. After several tests I had to undergo a major operation. Danny my son was wonderful, carted me around to all the tests, was with me before and after my operation, spoke with the doctors and did all the bureaucracy that was necessary, and there was a lot of it. I could not wish for a better caretaker. He encourages me to move on, takes me out, he is available whenever I need him, during the day or during the night.

All this was ten weeks ago.

At the beginning I was so weak that I thought that is the end of it. Luckily a volunteer from Germany, who happened to be a medical trained home-caretaker, came in every morning to get me up, help me to shower and dress my wounds. Slowly I got back onto my feet. I am still weaker than before and have to take things easy.

By now I am back to a number of my previous activities.

My daily routine has change completely. It takes me much more time to get ready in the morning, I need a lot of help with my household scores, but most important I have to get out of the house and take a walk as often as I can, sometimes twice a day and at all weathers. By using a three-wheeler walker I have reached a certain amount of independence. I have several helpers, they are students, their time being limited because of their studies, and I need more than one. So I have to jungle, as to who does what and when. But rather to answer their question "and how are you today", I prefer to asked them what was your lecture about or when is your next exam and in what subject. That way I can participate in their life which is much more interesting than my health problems.

Although I am not moving out of my own flat, but over the last 15 years much un-needed stuff of all sorts has accumulated. Trying to sort that out and to get rid of some of it at least, is no easy task, but easy or not absolutely necessary.

Hundreds of my paintings that have been on exhibitions, but mean more to me than to any stranger, nobody wants or needs them today.

I used to travel around the world taking slides and later showed them in clubs. There are hundreds of them including the projector, all that is obsolete now, and no longer in use by anybody.

Years ago I had my own darkroom, developed and enlarged black and white photos. Who needs this equipment? It is difficult to get rid of all that junk, and junk it is in the eyes of the present generation today?

Although I have parted with many books, they seem to accumulate all be themselves. They need more and more shelf space. Since I still write articles and participate in various activities I need books as reverences. I love my books, but ! ! ! I need more space.

Somehow everything takes time and more time than I can find within the 24 hour that seem to run all by themselves, and time runs faster than I can walk.

There is always something to look forwards to, like my twelve great-grandchildren will soon have an addition or a great clan get-together pick-nick and in a month time the wedding of my grandson, the son of Danny. Life moved on and on.

A heat wave followed by a cold wave in December 2010 .

The last time I wrote was in August. The summer was extremely hot and did not want to end. The Jewish holiday season was early this year and it came to an end in late September.

From the 30 September till 2 October I attended an International Conference arranged by the University Wolverhampton and University Salzburg "Children and War: Past and Present". When there was a call for papers I send in an abstract about "Motherless Daughters in the aftermath of the Shoa". It was accepted and I flew for 5 days to Salzburg to present the paper. I was taken good care of by Angelika Schlackl, who had also been my host 2006 when I told the story of a Jewish Family, my family in several schools including 7-9 year olds in elementary schools in Linz Austria. Apart from presenting my paper I also spoke in several schools. Flying with assistance makes it possible for me to get about in the vast airports in a wheelchair. But all told I got home exhausted.

It was still very hot. That is probably what caused the fire of the Carmel Forest to turn into an uncontrollable inferno. I sat speechless in front of the television. Having lived for 40 years in Haifa I spend a lot of my time walking in the forests and knew all the places that were directly involved and damaged. Many homes were destroyed and 43 people lost their lives trying to save others from the fire. Firefighters and airplanes from all over the world came to our assistance. In the end the rain put out the last glowing branches.

The heat wave all of a sudden turned into cold wave, sand storms in the south, rain in the north and snow on Mt. Hermon. A weekend of sea waves several meters high, storms that felled trees and all told, it caused a lot of damage.

The last few weeks I have been engaged activities for the local neighborhood elections. I was asked to be a candidate. Lots of messages and meetings, from among 8 candidates for 2 positions I was the oldest one, the youngest was 24 years old. Since I need a walker to get around, as many others my age do, my main interest is, seeing that the old people in my neighborhood get their fair share of cultural activities within walking distance and to arrange inter-generational encounters. I have been active on that line for years and will continue doing so whether I get elected or not.

If I do not manage to keep in touch with all my friends and acquaintances on a personal level, please forgive me or add a few extra hours to the 24 hours or perhaps an extra day to the week. No, better not. I have enough on my plate.

All the best to my readers.

Individual Memory for Identity Construction

Part of aging or growing old is keeping the balance between loss and gain.

Losses are an integral part of growing old. Spouses, partners, friends and acquaintances fall ill, some die. Loneliness is a frequent component in old age.

Gain in growing old under normal circumstances, is looking back to ones youth and achievement in earlier periods for formulating self-esteem and constructing present day identity.

Survivors looking back upon their childhood are confronted with a childhood or youth disrupted by the Nazi regime, deprivation, war, Ghetto, camps and multiple deaths.

Encountering losses was the order of the day. Extended and close family, were cruelly pulled apart during the Shoa. Loneliness hit the survivor in the face and throughout their life became a constant companion. Many old people are sole survivors.

While growing old one has to use individual memory for identity construction.

In order to construct “Present Day Identity” one leans on previous identity building blocks. Short- term memory is veining, but long-term memory is in tact.

Survivors, when looking back, find that the losses of aging are compounded by many previous losses during their childhood, caused by the Shoa.

For aging survivors, some of whom were mere children during the Shoa, the void of a destroyed childhood and early adolescence is like a deep abyss that will never be bridged. So for the aging survivor, loneliness becomes even more burdensome.

Aging survivors struggle to construct their self-esteem and present day identity, at the same time they should remember that they can look back to their own individual memory, to their immigration, constructing an entirely new way of life, many challenges that they had to cope with and succceeded . There is much that they can be proud of.

How times change.

Yesterday Danny asked me if wanted to come along to meet up with the family outing. Joyfully I agreed. The family clan had gone out earlier to the beach at Moshav Habonim, just south of Haifa. Driving along the toll road Nr. 6 which has no traffic lights, was an experience for me, since these days I seldom travel long distances. Views I have not seen in the old days, long before the new highways were introduced. Turning of the toll road I felt confused for a moment, but soon found familiar surroundings, although they have changed a lot as well. Furadis, once a little Arab village, has grown to a full sized township. We soon reached the beach and were just in time for helping to transport some of the clan and their stuff up the winding mountain road to a parking lot in the beautiful Mount Carmel Nature Reserve. Here I felt at home. There is hardly a spot in that region that I had not explored when we still lived in Haifa and tramped around week after week getting to know the surrounding like few other families did. Then it was just our two boys and me and sometimes my husband. Or I was there with my Scout troupe. Later I helped my son Micky when he explored the Carmel to prepare the map for all the different hiking trails, up and down and on top of Mount Carmel. The different colored marks are still visible. Having arrived at the campsite next to Beth Oren the smaller children scrambled out of the 4 cars and roamed around to explore the surrounding, while the grownups set up tents for the night, build a campfire and started to prepare dinner. The babies needed to be fed and somehow everybody chipped in and helped where ever it was necessary. Where once, when my boys were young, we were just 4 people camping out all over the country, now we were 4 generations, me, my daughter and her husband, 4 of their children and their spouses plus 10 of her grandchildren, two of Danny's sons and a daughter of my son Micky. The rest of the clan joined them early next morning in time to scramble down the Carmel range.

Danny had set up a folding chair for me and I joyfully took in how things just happened. Nobody told anybody what to do but all chipped in helped. Babies were past from hand to hand to allow the parents to do whatever needed to be done. The campfire was roaring and soon everybody settled down to a hearty and wholesome well cooked dinner, salad, herbal tea, and cake. When the smaller children started to get drowsy, it was time for Danny and me to leave and set out for home.

Taking a different route this time we drove through the Druze villages of Ussifia and Dalijat-el-Carmel. Actually they are no longer villages but one great township. The streets were lined with modern shops, lots of restaurants, hundreds of car driving in different directions causing traffic jams, people and people, young and old milling around. Just here and there one could see a few elderly women sitting in their doorway dressed in their traditional garb. The rest were dressed in the latest fashion. It was a totally new experience for me. The place has changed within a few short years, not to be recognized. We soon got to the end of the brightly lit streets and followed the winding mountain road until we got back onto the toll road Nr. 6 and were home in no time. It was a lovely outing for me, which I really enjoyed, the drive and all and especially seeing all the great family clan having fun together.

Yom Hashoa 2010

Throughout the year I get asked to tell the story of a Jewish Family, my family in schools, Yeshivot, army camps and Yad Vashem.

But the week of Yom Hashoa I am booked weeks ahead for every day of the week and beyond.

It started last Friday with a memorial service for my grandson. Eight years ago on Yom Hashoa he fell in action in J'enin, while I was at Yad Vashem at an International conference, about to give a workshop on how to remember the beloved ones who perished long ago in the Shoa.

Sunday, the eve of Yom Hashoa, early in the morning I got picked up by an army car and taken to a training camp somewhere in the desert. The drive was long, dusty and bumpy. A group of young recruits from a special air force unit, just back from some exercise, gathered for a memorial service and listened to my story. From there I was taken to a permanent camp, miles away from the first. Some 400 soldiers of all ranks took time out for a Yom Hashoa ceremony. Four of my grandsons had served in the air force, two of them in this special unit. Some officers remembered them from when they served there. I felt it as a special honor for me to be allowed to talk to that unit. It was a long day for me.

The next day, on Yom Hashoa itself, I participated in the ceremony at a school for pupils with special needs. The topic was siblings during the Shoa. So I adapted my talk to put special emphasis on this while telling my story. In the afternoon a couple of soldier girls visited me as part of the project "A Flower for Survivors". They insisted on hearing my story, so I told it to them.

Tuesday I was off again to another army camp in the center of the country, driving through densely crowded country side in contrast to the previous ride to the camp in the desert. The soldiers were from different groups in training for becoming officers.

Wednesday I spoke in the local elementary school where my grandchildren had studied. It was up three flights of stairs and one of the teachers had to literally pull me up all those steps. It took some time to get the Projector to talk to the Computer but in the end it worked out alright. The pupils from the fifth and sixth grade were as fascinated by my story as any other listener. In the evening I spoke in the Jewish quarter of the old city to a bunch of girls from English speaking countries. The girls are in Israel for a study year.

Thursday afternoon I went to a group meeting in Amcha (Social support for survivors). Each of us was given a chance to tell what Yom Hashoa means for us today. There are vast differences in our stories. It was a long week for me.

Sunday evening my son Danny took me to Ramat Rachel to take part in the memorial ceremony for the fallen soldiers of the Kibbutz. Afterwards the whole family gathered at my daughter's place. We had missed a television show where I appeared.

This morning, Monday, I gave a talk to pupils of the ninth grade at the High School next to the university. This was part of an extended memorial ceremony for fallen soldiers on the eve of our Independence Day. When I got home I went to my computer and managed on the internet to listen to yesterday's program.

The week before Channel 2 had interviewed two sets of grandparents and me as a bereaved grandmother. Parents, widows and orphans are recognized as bereaved members of the fallen soldier's family. Grandparents so far have been left to their own devices. What I tried to convey at the interview is the difficulty of a grandmother living on her own to cope with grieving for her grandson without actually being considered as part of the bereaved community. As grandparents we are never invited to participate at official ceremonies.

Tomorrow is Independence Day. Thursday I will give a talk in a girls high school. The emphasis will be on 62 years of Statehood but still include the story of a Jewish family, my family and building up of the country in its early stages.

Ulpan and French Television

A few days ago the winter Ulpan began in Beth Ben Jehuda, which is the guest house of ASF.

ASF is a German organization that brings young volunteers to Israel for a year to do civil servis in institutions for the handicapped, old people or historical institutions like Yad Vashem. Whenever a new group arrives they turn to me and asked me to tell them my story.

This time it was only a small group of nine people from he Ulpan who came to me. They were of different ages and different professions, among them a math teacher from Hamburg, a physic student, somebody who had served in the Bundeswehr, an ergo therapist, a radio reporter and a musician.

At the same time there is a French television team in Jerusalem who were interested in the relationship between Germans and Israelis, Christians and Jews. They too had turned to ASF and asked for permission to film. It was decided to combine the two and a date was fixed for Wednesday at 3.00 o’clock.

It was a rainy day. While the people from the Ulpan arrived a bit early with dripping umbrellas at my house to listen to my story, the French television team of four was late in arriving. The musician had brought her violin along, so we filled in the time, until the team got ready, by her playing Hebrew songs and everybody joined in. It created a pleasant and relaxed atmosphere.

I tell my story with a power point presentation. The team kept walking forth and back, not quite knowing where it was best to look and film. As this was not the first time for me to be photographed, I took little notice of them and just carried on talking. At the end there were a few questions and a lively discussion developed for quiet some time. When we thought we had finished and were ready to pack up, the television team started to question the Ulpan people as what they thought about the German Jewish relationship.

By 7.00 o’clock I finally closed the door on the last person.

The television team would return the following Wednesday to film me together with the young volunteer from ASF, who regular visits me for a couple of hours once a week as part of his volunteer project.

Again the team turned up late, told us what to do, how to walk, where to sit, but luckily not what to say. We spoke German with each other, while the television team spoke French amongst themselves, with one of them translating the orders into English, a real mix of several languages.

So we laughed a lot, were told to take a walk outside and return to the house. We then proceeded to my computer and I showed photos of my grandchildren and my son. He has just purchased a yacht in Florida and sent me pictures. There is always something to talk about and if possible laugh about.
As we thought we had finished, the French started to asked some more questions in English. What their intentions were initially I do not know. It was difficult for them to comprehend how a young person from Germany and an old Jewish lady in Israel can want to share time with each other.

As far as I am concerned any body, who is nice to me, I am nice to them. If a young person from Germany comes to this country and wants to get to know something about us, about Judaism, about day to day life in Israel, wants to visit me and chat with me he is most welcome. And that is what it is all about for me.

Generations together.

Does being an artist run in the family?
It appears that it often does.
“Irgun Joze Mercas Europa” - the organization of immigrants from Central Europe, had the bright idea to invite artists of two or three generations from within the same family to a joint art exhibition.
I have been painting for the past 20 years to give creative expression to some of my thoughts and feelings, participated at group exhibitions and had several single ones.

But this time the call to register was different. My grandson Ido likes to make sculptures from what ever he can lay his hands on. He has created some exquisite ones from odds and ends of discarded metal tools, one of them called multi- tool.
I thought that this exhibition would be an excellent possibility to give a young man like him some exposure of his artistic trend.
The curator had asked us to send in by e-mail some examples. He was immediately taken by my grandsons work. From among my vast store of paintings he choose a set of three small paintings that were hanging on my memorial wall, scenes I had painted in 1989 after my visit to Auschwitz where my mother had perished.
Also chosen to include was a small wooden Jewel-box that my mother decorated back in the year 1913. She crafted it for her cousin, who brought it with her to this country and later gave it to me for keepsake. My mother was a very gifted and creative person and in my childhood I often admired her skills and loved to watch her do things with her hands.
My three children are creative in different ways and so are my grandchildren, as well as some of my great-grandchildren, like the three brothers aged 8, 6 and 4 year old, playing musical instruments.

Eight family groups, some two and others three or four generations within the family, participated. For the festive opening of the exhibition in the gallery of the Jerusalem Theater some 70 guests turned up.
I was proud to see that the sculpture of my grandson Ido was exposed at a strategic point of entrance so that everybody who entered was aware of it and it a brought a smile to their faces. Ido is about to start his engineer study.
The grandmother of one of the families, 50 or 60 years ago did the graphic design for a cleaning material called “Ama”, depicting a little girl with two pigtails. Her granddaughter did a very artistic variation of that picture putting different faces, including some famous actors in place of the little girl. This granddaughter is about to enter the Bezalel Art College. Another family, the father, an architect by profession, and his 14- year old son, painted each other’s portraits.

To judge by the exhibition, the joy of creativity seems to be passed on from generation to generation. All told it was very impressive. As soon as I got home I started to write an article about it to the newspaper of the organization that organized and funded the exhibit.

Danny, my son went back to take pictures to be included in my article.

I hope it will be printed in the next issue.

All in a days work.

August was hot but besides that very little happened.
September is different. My days are again filled with different activities.

Yesterday was one of these days.
The morning started of with the old peoples club meeting entering the seventh year. It is a club, which I initiated, as part of the Association of Former Immigrants from Central Europe. We heard a pleasant rendering of stories connected with the forthcoming High Holiday season and wished each other a Happy New Year. Before going home I sat with a couple women to plan the activities for the coming two month.

To get from one place to another I either have to take my three-wheeled walker or get a taxi to get me to the further away meeting places. That is how it is when you get old and older

At 4.00 o’clock, of I went to the weekly meeting of Café-Europa, a get-together for Shoa survivors, just up the street from where I live.
It is thanks to the cooperation of different departments of the Municipality, the Welfare Department, the Neighborhood Administration and the Jerusalem Foundation with a generous donation from the Wagner family in Germany, that within the last couple of years, different activities for old people got once more started. I have since emailed the Wagner family and thanked them for their donation.
Three young women, social workers by profession, when starting their various activities for old people in this neighborhood, first came to me and we had long talks as to what the social and emotional needs of old people are. I gave them articles to read, that I had written on the subject. Doing research on Aging and Old Age is just one of the many hobbies that I pursue.

At yesterdays meeting in Café Europa representatives of all the departments involved were present and I greeted them with a few words, praising the facts that thanks to their cooperation we can now enjoy ourselves week after week, relax to pleasant music, coffee and cake.

That was not the end of the day yet.
Shortly before 6 o’clock I caught a taxi, which took me to an Inter-faith meeting. As the people slowly trickled in, Donna Jacob Sife, a well known storyteller from Australia, asked me whether I was also involved in Inter-faith work. My answer was, yes, why else do you think that I am here. Her reply was, that is a cheeky answer. Why is this cheeky I asked and we chatted on. As it turned out, it was her and me who best understood each other. As she kept telling one fascinating story after another, she frequently referred to the talk we had before the meeting got started.
One of her sayings was: “When You are You and I am Me, I can be Me. But if You try to be Me and I try to be You, I can not be Me”.
In an e.mail I send to her this morning I wrote: ”So, You are You and I am Me and that is how it should be”. I thanked her for a wonderful evening.
I then commenced to browse on her website.

http://www.donnajacobsife.com/
It was difficult for me to tear myself away from it. Some of the tales are well known, but get a new perspective when used in the context of Inter-faith.

Late last night I got a phone call from a good friend in Germany. We had an interesting talk. She said that it is a long time since I last wrote on my blog.
So here I am.
It is hard to get everything done that I would like to do, but I did want to share with you some of what I do.
What has become clear to me, more then ever before, is the fact that You are You and I am Me and that is how it should be.

"Amcha" Yom Hashoa 2009

As in previous years on Yom Hashoa, so also this year, I participated in a couple of workshops at “Amcha”. Under the guidance of a senior psychologist we discussed ‘Emuna Beshoa’ - Belief during the Shoa. There were vast differences in the approach to this subject. 

My own personal belief goes back on my upbringing at home in Germany. My mother was a devout Zionist. From a young age I belonged to “Habonim”, a Zionist pioneering youth movement. My belief, then and now, is based on Judaism, Zionism and Pioneering. The Shoa did not change my belief. My mother was willing to make great sacrifices for her belief. She parted from one child after the other, in order for us three children to be able to live. Her parting words were "Lehitraot Bearzenu" -See you again in our homeland-. My brother came to Erez Israel with Youth Aliya, my sister and myself were throughout the war on Hachshara in England.   There I waited  until I could fulfill my dream to come on Aliya,  to arrive in Erez Israel as soon as it was possible, which was within a month of the end of the war in 1945.  My parents perished in Theresienstadt and Auschwitz, their bodies bend, but with their spirit alive. They preserved  their integrity, dignity and  "Emuna"- 'belief' in humanity until the end.

My mother lived under the Nazi rule for eleven years, from 1933 –1944. I left home in 1939 aged fifteen. For three and a half years, until in 1942 together with my father she was on the transport to Thersienstadt, where my father died, she accompanied me during my growing up stage. It was my mother in her many letters I received from her, who gave me the courage and inspired me to live up to my belief.  It is precisely that, which keeps me going 70 years later in my old age. 

In the discussion there were people who objected to my saying that my parents perished. They insisted and tried to imply that I should say they were murdered. The word “murdered” for me brings up the image of the murderers. It sounds  like the language the  historians use.

For me it is important to remember my parents as they were. They were always concerned and helpful to others, loving and caring for each other and their children and until the end strong in their belief in humanity. It is their image that I have in mind when I tell the story of a Jewish Family, my family. 

It is my narrative, a narrative I can live with. I cherish the memory of my parents and the values which they instilled in me, hoping they will be passed on from generation to generation  

 

Twenty Years of Friendship

In the spring of 1988 I met Pastor Berndt for the first time in answer to a small notice that I saw in the Jerusalem Post:  “Will be visiting the Rutenberg House in Haifa with a youth group from Germany and would like to meet with someone who remembers the “Kristall Nacht” – the pogrom night of November 1938”. 

1988 was a general awakening in Germany to pay attention to what happened fifty years earlier. I got an invitation from several cities to speak in schools and tell the story of a Jewish Family - my family.

Pastor Berndt invited me to stay with his family in his home for the duration while I was talking in schools and in the community. A deep friendship developed and I called him my Pastor. On my annual lecture tours to Germany it became a regular stopover for me. He visited Israel with different groups over the years. His younger son who studied Theology spent a term to study in Israel.

A couple of weeks ago I received a mail from Pastor Berndt that he will be touring Israel with his wife, hid elder son, daughter in law and their 4 children aged 12, 10, 6,and 4. They would like to visit me. He wanted his grandchildren to hear me tell the story of my family in my home.  While I gave the younger children paper and colors to paint, I used my picture book that I specially made for such a time when I can’t use my computer power point presentations. 

Pastor Berndt recalled our first meeting 21 years ago and his amazement at that  time when he met an old lady who greeted this group of young Germans boys and girls with a bunch of spring flowers. 

Twenty years of friendship, covering three generations, was crowned with the present visit. Everybody showed great interest, hugged me, thanked me warmly and promised to return. 

 

 

 

 

War is War

The war is raging in Gaza and here I am sitting at home and do not know what to do with myself. Life goes on, I have to do my shopping, cooking, eating, going to the doctor, making appointments for further examinations, trying to keep in touch with the rest of the family, keeping a dentist appointment.
The news broadcasts are blaring in my ears and tears come to my eyes. Often I get asked by all sorts of people, locals as well as visitors, what I think of what is going on in Gaza.

My only answer is, there is a war going on, and we have to hope that there will be a brake-through to achieve and allow for peaceful living in all parts of the country.
Israel has been threatened and attacked over and over, again and again. Over the years my children and grandchildren have served in fighting units and seen defensive battle after battle. Six years ago, one of my grandsons, while engaged in defending us, fell in J’enin during the battle of “Defense Shield”. For his parents, his siblings and the whole family, the wounds over this loss have never healed.
The present war is a bitter war, taking its toll of killed and wounded in body and soul on both sides. In many parts of the country everybody - women, children, old people are running day after day and night after night for shelter. Schools are closed and life is interrupted. It is a traumatic period we are going through which will have repercussions for a long time.
Hopefully it will end soon and bring about the much-needed arrangement for peace and quite.