Monday, October 17, 2016

DEAR READERS, (Both of you)

Many years ago, when I worked for a living, there was this one fellow worker who I loved to stop by and chat with. I would make it a point to stop at her office and engage in conversations with her. Monic was a writer, a good one who was an asset to the creative department. It was important to stop by to see her because not only was she beautiful inside, she balanced that with beautiful on the outside.

The purpose of my visits was to lift my spirits, making me feel better than I would otherwise. We would laugh at each other, the events that occurred in both the office and life. Recently on Facebook, she wrote a post that I would like to share with you.

“Now that the Jewish New Year and Atonement are over, I feel compelled to share this. Although the movie The Relief of Belsen is a dramatization of the British saving the agonized souls of
Bergen-Belsen, we were shocked to see real footage, after the saviors came in, of my beloved Grandmother. How did she survive?
The story talks about things my Grandmother told me.
How she witnessed a boy get shot and killed for trying to "steal" rotten food from a garbage can.
How she found a lice-ridden and ragged blanket to sit on instead of the hard dirt. She got up for a moment and a little girl sat on the blanket. Unlucky timing; a Nazi guard saw the child. Without warning or directive, he simply shot her and killed her and threw her small body in a pile of rotting dead. My Grandmother never ever got over that. She blamed herself for finding the blanket.
The lice so profuse that it looked like people's heads were vibrating.
The dead.. everywhere.
My Grandmother herself stole
Food from garbage pails. Thank the lord she never got caught.
She told me how after the British liberated the camp, many more died. The British, crying and horrified at what they saw, gave the starving people food. As a nurse, my Grandmother knew feeding long-starving people would lead to agony and death. They gave out cans of beans. And the starving died in their own shit, screaming in pain.
My Grandmother is the young woman standing to the right of the doctor who spoke out weeks after the liberation.
I am stunned. I am strong because of her.”


  • I am honored. Thank you, my friend. Thank you.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:29 AM  

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