Month: September 2018

Uncertainty: Chapter Eleven

Posted in culture, History, language, literature, Photography, Politics, religionTagged , , , 10 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five
Uncertainty: Chapter Six
Uncertainty: Chapter Seven
Uncertainty: Chapter Eight
Uncertainty: Chapter Nine
Uncertainty: Chapter Ten

Uncertainty: Chapter Eleven

“My name is Menil, and I am a simple man, one hundred percent. There is not much to my story with the exception of three evident truths…”

“For one, I am neither German or Polish. I am ‘stateless’.”

“I earned this elusive title nearly twenty years ago after crossing into Germany to avoid conscription in the Polish Army. My decision was guided by my faith in Hashem, and grounded in my need to escape further anti-Semitic prosecution. Consequently, I forfeited my Polish citizenship, and automatically became a political refugee. While it was difficult starting out with so little in a new country with Rochel, my bride, it never deterred me from achieving my dream of building a prosperous business and raising a beautiful family. With Rochel by my side, we were unstoppable…until the Nazis decidedly interfered with our plans.”

“Another thing about me…I am neither a resident or a citizen. I am considered an ‘undesirable’ and ‘enemy of the state’.”

“I’m told by the Third Reich that my very existence is a direct threat to the government, and Hitler’s notion of Aryan perfection–along with anyone else who happens to be a Jehovah’s Witness, a homosexual, a gypsy, or a mental patient. As an ‘enemy of the state,’ I must surrender everything that I have ever worked for, and I am to be treated as a common criminal. And what are my choices for committing racial treason? Either I hide underground like a rat or face the likelihood of prison…or worse.”

“Lastly, I am no longer a tailor or a businessman. I am just a humble Jew, meyn Got.”

“When the Nazis see me, that is all they can see. After the Reichstag1 enacted the Nuremberg Laws on September 15, 1935, I became a stranger in a strange land. The Nazis could no longer see me as a man of substance or purpose. All they see is a Jew, nothing more: someone who is defined by the heritage of his parents and his parents’ parents; someone who is worthy of only ridicule and hate; and someone who is an age-old scapegoat for Hitler’s propaganda machine.”

“And what’s my take on all that I am? I ask because by looking at me, no one could ever predict these details about me. I certainly don’t appear ‘stateless’. My German is impeccable; I once owned property in the center of town; and I had the respect of the business community and the congregants who davened with me in shul.”

“No one would ever confuse me for an ‘enemy of the state’. I’m not an activist like some of the Zionists I know. I never go to meetings, and I don’t protest in the streets or sign petitions with my real name.”

“Most interestingly, I don’t particularly look Jewish. At least I don’t think so. My pale skin, green eyes, moderate nose and thinning hair makes me more likely to be mistaken for a goy. Berte, too. Her looks definitely come from my side of the family. Her blond hair and blue eyes alone have made her the envy of every Aryan parent. Eva, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. Her alluring looks come from Rochel’s side: black hair and dark mysterious eyes–the kind that draw you in.”

“Rochel has always hocked2 me that I’ve been living in denial, but there is no denying these three facts about me, one hundred percent. And regardless of how I present to the world, the Nazis have managed to remind me of ‘what’ I am on a daily basis. Of course, one needn’t look any further than my identity papers.”

“Passports are curious things. As an official travel document, it reveals our personal information: name, birthdate, country of origin, and a photograph of our likeness. To the average yutz3 or shmo4, a passport is a certified registration of identity and nationality for the primary purpose of international travel, but to a Jew, it’s meaningless and a curse. So there can be no confusion, all Jewish passports have been stamped with an identifying “J” in red letters.”

German Passport (2)

“In August ’38, the Reichstag passed the “Executive Order on the Alteration of Family and Personal Names,” which now requires Jewish men and women bearing first names of “non-Jewish” origin to adopt additional names: “Israel” for men and “Sara” for women. So now, I’m officially Menil “Israel” Strawczynski. How do you like that?!”

“Naturally, all of this nonsense is beside the point, because leaving Germany by normal means of passport and visa issuance is nearly impossible following the horror of Kristallnacht. Already, most countries around the world no longer want Jewish immigrants or refugees inside their borders–which they’ve made very clear by tightening entry regulations and keeping the numbers down for people like us.”

I shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s much too late in the day for Rochel or me to formally cross the border to Venlo, but that doesn’t mean we can’t send the kinder ahead of us…We just have to figure out a way we can all reunite on the other side.”

Shaina Maidel whinnied and shook her head. She nudged my shoulder.

“I apologize. I don’t mean to kvetch5, but you’re such a good listener!”

I picked myself up from the bale beside the stall opening, and brushed the hay from my tush6. I grabbed the lantern and an apple to feed her from a nearby bushel basket.

“You’ve been very helpful,” I offered with the treat, and she snatched it from my palm.

“Now I understand why Bertie loves you so much. Good Night, Shaina Maidel.”

1Parliament of the Third Reich
2nagged
3fool
4jerk
5complain
6buttocks

Uncertainty: Chapter Ten

Posted in culture, History, language, literature, Photography, PoliticsTagged , , , 12 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five
Uncertainty: Chapter Six
Uncertainty: Chapter Seven
Uncertainty: Chapter Eight
Uncertainty: Chapter Nine

Uncertainty: Chapter Ten

Menil and I huddled under the blankets for warmth and held each other close. Yet we froze in fear of being discovered like two teenage lovers in the backseat of a Duesenberg automobile. We had heard a loud noise, and instinctively clung to each other in the back of the van, reacting to the present danger with the same heightened awareness as if we were hiding under Ilse Köhler’s kitchen floor. 

An hour earlier, we thought we had found the perfect spot to find some alone time…away from the kinder. But leave it to Berte to pick the same place at the same time as Menil and me. Vey iz mir!1 We lay very still and quiet on our mattress of worsted wool–eavesdropping on Berte’s confession–until I could’t bear another minute of her unhappiness, and thought I would plotz2. It broke my heart hearing Bertie pouring her heart out to Shaina Maidel.

We held our breath as she dragged her feet past the van, and we let out a collective *sigh* the moment we heard the barn doors close behind her.

“Gottenyu!3 I don’t think I could have gone any longer,” I confessed to Menil.

“Me either,” he snickered. “That had to be the most uncomfortable half-hour of my life.” He took back his arm and flexed it back and forth, trying to restore some feeling.

His nervous laughter reminded me of the time he accidentally pinned Dr. Krupp’s hoyzen4 legs together while marking a cuff, and the steel scion nearly broke his neck trying to step off the tailor block.

I jabbed him playfully with my elbow. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it! Your tokhter5 is struggling, and all you can do is laugh!?”

“Of course she’s struggling. We’re all struggling, Rochel! Because none of this makes any sense!” he stated. “This is all my fault. I should have listened to my shvester6 from Pittsburgh in ’35, when she said to me, ‘Menil, it’s not getting any better. You need to get out while you still can!'”

“She begged me to leave, and I wouldn’t have any of it. She could have sponsored all of us in America, and I was an idyot7 not to listen to her.”

I tried to reassure him. “Menil, it’s not your fault. We both agreed to stay here as long as we felt safe.” I hugged him tight so he would know.

“I wanted to believe our life in Essen was a blessing, and we were deserving of it after the way we struggled in Lodz. Gott sei dank!8, we have a successful business, and a beautiful family, and we can raise our girls to honor HaShem’s9 commandments. Even with the meshugenah10 Nazis in Essen, was our life so terrible?”

“Of course not!” I declared. I ran my fingers through his thick sandy hair and kissed him deeply. When I pulled away, I noticed that his smile and his swagger had returned.

“You see! So I was right!…Back then, there was no good reason to leave all of this behind. And for what?–an uncertain future in America?” he questioned.

However, in 1937, anti-Semitism intensified in Essen. Hitler Youths were constantly marching in the streets; more Jews were being beaten and harassed for being Jewish; and more laws were enacted that discriminated against Jewish merchants, doctors, lawyers and teachers. It became obvious to me and the girls that things were getting worse, yet whenever I often brought it up to Menil, he always thought things would eventually return to normal.

I’d tell him he was living “in denial,” but he always answered back with, “I have no immediate plans of moving from Essen or Egypt.”

The final affront for me was on September 27th that year, when Mussolini and Hitler rode down the center of town in his motorcade. Thousands of cheering people lined the street and saluted “Seig Heil”11 and “Heil, Hitler.”12 

Berlin, Benito Mussolini, Adolf Hitler

I was standing at the cross walk with Berte and noticed a frail woman in a wheelchair who failed to salute the Führer13 when he passed. That’s when a marching Brownshirt broke ranks and humiliated the old woman, forcing her to raise her arm. And when she couldn’t, he forced her to support her arm with the other arm. And when all strength failed her and her arms collapsed, he beat her and her attendant to the ground with a rubber truncheon while others looked on indifferently.

Maybe that’s when Menil finally came to his senses. We planned and practiced for the eventual day when our mishpocha could start over in the Nederlands. But we missed our one chance to cross the border together when it mattered, and now we’re in the van inside the barn at the farm, waiting to come up with another solution, because the Nazis are becoming more serious with each passing day, and it scares me.

“Max and Ilse have been telling us that people we used to know around our neighborhood are quickly disappearing. Families are being arrested and deported to concentration camps, and all the Jewish-owned shops are now reopening with Swastika flags flying on the outside. I feel like our life here is over…” 

Depression took hold, and grief overcame me. I buried myself in Menil’s arms. “…after all the hard work we put into it,” I sobbed. 

Menil consoled me, stroking my arms and back with his strong and nimble hands. “It’s all going to work out, Rochel. You’ll see. Bertie’s absolutely right. There’s no going back, and there’s no future staying here any longer,” he said with a hint of resignation. “We need to find another way out of Germany, but I’m not so sure we can do it as a family.”

1Woe is me!
2overcome by strong emotion
3Dear God!
4pants
5daughter
6sister
7idiot
8Thank God!
9The Lord
10crazy
11Hail Victory
12Hail, Hitler
13Leader

Uncertainty: Chapter Nine

Posted in History, language, literature, PoliticsTagged , , , , 11 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five
Uncertainty: Chapter Six
Uncertainty: Chapter Seven
Uncertainty: Chapter Eight

Uncertainty: Chapter Nine

Terboven’s visit to the farm left us shaken, and forced Abba and Eema to think more clearly about our safety, and whether it was still possible to hide from the Nazis without getting caught. While I had my own opinion about the matter and tried many times to express myself, no one seemed remotely interested in what I had to say.

“To them–even though I was twelve-and-a-half–I was considered little more than a child who should be seen and not heard, which was quite a departure from the way it used to be when everything was normal.”

“‘Bertie, your Mutti and I have some important business to discuss. Could you maybe give us a bissel time alone?'” was usually Abba’s way of telling me to get lost.

“So I took my complaint to Eva, and told her that Abba and Eema were plotting our future without us, and we should have a say in it. But she wanted no part of it. All Eva wanted to do was dress her doll for tea and draw pictures of a stick family standing beside a tree in front of a house on a hill with smoke coming out the chimney.”

Abba and Eema’s dismissal, and Eva’s indifference left me feeling lonely, and I longed for my friends at home.

“I wonder what became of Toni Ehrlich and the Greenberg girls. We used to be inseparable–probably because all of us came from similar family backgrounds, and each of my friends’ parents had a similar business on Abba’s side of the street. Everyday after school, Toni and Sully Greenberg and I would walk to the other Academy down the street and wait for Rosa Greenberg and Eva’s class to dismiss.”

“Once we were all together, the five of us would walk to the Jewish business district where we dropped our books at the shop, and depending on the day of the week, we would continue to Talmud Torah1 on Monday, or gymnastics on Tuesday, or piano lessons on Wednesday.”

“But Thursdays were different. That was my alone time with Abba, when he would accompany me to ballet class, and watch me dance. On the way home, we often stopped at the music store so Abba could select an opera or symphony record to bring home and play on the phonograph, with me trying to sound it out on the piano.”

“Friday afternoons were always spent at home with Eema. Once Eva and I arrived at the haberdashery, the three of us would climb the flight of stairs at the back of the shop to our kitchen to prepare for Shabbos. Eema and I cooked together, while Eva set the table with special plates from the antique hutch in the dining room. Then we waited for Abba to close the shop at sundown so we could light the Shabbos candles together.”

“Shabbos dinner always started with chicken soup–sometimes with lokshen2 or kreplach3–followed by a roasted chicken or beef brisket served with potato kugel4. After dinner, we sat around the table listening to the radio, while Eema served her homemade babka5 for dessert. I can still remember listening to a broadcast of Otto Klemperer conducting the Italian Symphony, and Abba feeling so proud that Maestro and Mendelssohn were both Jewish.”

“However, after Hitler was appointed Chancellor in 1933, and the Nazis took over, the music of Mendelssohn, Mahler and Meyerbeer was forbidden in Germany, and replaced by Wagner and lots of anti-Semitic propaganda. Abba became so furious that one day he ripped the plug from the radio out of the wall, and stored the radio in the closet for good. We never listened to radio again, even though the Nazis taxed us every month to cover the cost of their programs.”

“From then on, we would mostly talk at the dinner table about anything, but mostly about culture and Torah, since Abba was such a frum6 man who came from an Orthodox upbringing. In fact, Abba knew the prayers so well that many times the rabbi would call upon him to lead the service and read from the Torah during Shabbos. And even though Eema and Eva had to sit upstairs with the other women–apart from the men–I got to sit downstairs in the front row and watch Abba daven on the bimah7.”

“But now, everything is upside down and twisted all around. When we first arrived at the farm, everything felt like an adventure–like being on vacation. We would hike in the woods, and scout the area for oyster mushrooms, and play hide and seek. But after a month of hiding, it’s not as much fun anymore. We don’t go to shul anymore; We don’t visit the library anymore; we don’t listen to music anymore; I don’t have my friends anymore; and WE DON’T TALK TO EACH OTHER ANYMORE!”

I must have startled Shaina Maidel with my outburst. She reared her head as I was tying the last of her braids. Or maybe she was just agreeing with me.

I stroked her ears and she immediately calmed down. 

“I don’t mean you, girl. You’re my friend, and I can always talk to you. You’re the only one who seems to listen to me.”

The light was fading in the barn, and I could feel the temperature dropping. I placed the heavy red blanket with black trim over her back, and gave her a big hug before passing the van and closing the barn doors behind me.

1Hebrew school
2noodles
3small dumplings
4soufflé
5sweet Polish coffee cake
6pious
7raised area around the Ark, where the Torah is stored

Stats!

Posted in humorTagged , , , 17 Comments

It’s official! After creating 201 posts over the past 18 months, my blog has reached a new level of readership that defies credulity.

Two days ago, I posted Chapter 8 of “Uncertainty”, a somber reflection of survival based on a true story during the Holocaust (which I encourage everyone to read from the prologue going forward). I was feeling rather secure about the characters, the writing technique, and the progression of the story that I’ve been serializing for the past month, and looking forward to plotting out the balance of Part One.

However, today I checked the current status to see how well (or not) the post has been received, and to my dismay, I’ve discovered that the views for Uncertainty: Chapter Eight have been less than flattering.

In fact, the post was credited with -2,147,483,648 views to date…maybe an all-time record for poorest performance ever for a new post by anyone affiliated with WordPress!

stat screenshot (2)

For a moment, I didn’t know what to think. And then a flood of emotions took over. I began to doubt whether the writing I was producing had offended or alienated readers to the point where 2,147,483,648 readers were letting me know that they had “unseen” my post!

While I will admit that my 201 musings to date are not intended for everyone (and most likely an acquired taste at best), I was not prepared to accept that almost half the literate world wished to “unview” my blog.

Here are the facts. According to Stastista (a statistics portal combining statistics and studies from more than 22,500 sources), in a world of approximately 7.6 billion people, about 26% of our global population is below 15 years of age.

Screenshot (25)That’s equivalent to 5.624 billion people worldwide over 15 years-old, and our new baseline for purposes of this investigation.

Coupled with UNESCO’s declaration of global literacy rate of 86%–which amounts to 4.837 billion adults (aged 15 years and older) who are validated as being able to read and write–

Screenshot (22)

…I have reconciled that I’ve lost any chance of attracting 44.4% of the literate world to my website.

Of course, I’m completely dependent upon WordPress for the accuracy of their calculus. But if their numbers are on target, then I must consider the other 55.6% of literate adults on this planet and appeal to their inherent curiosity, so that one day they might consider the possibility of visiting my blog and checking out the archives or what’s new.

In the meantime, I will continue to write for my audience of one, or two, or however many others (1980 followers and counting) who support me, and not focus on the negative 2,147,483,648 who don’t know what they’re missing…until they come around.

To my loyal readers, stay tuned for Uncertainty: Chapter Nine.

Uncertainty: Chapter Eight

Posted in History, language, literature, Politics, religionTagged , , , 11 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five
Uncertainty: Chapter Six
Uncertainty: Chapter Seven

Uncertainty: Chapter 8

Gottenyu!1 Hearing Ilse screaming at Terboven gave me chills, and I could feel the anger welling up inside me. But what could I do? I felt so powerless! Sitting in the finsternish, I fantasized of fifty ways of killing that farzeenish2 for what he’s done to us…but that’s not what the Torah teaches. All that I knew at that moment was I had to protect my family, and so I suffered in silence.

Truthfully, I was also paralyzed with fear, since I never had much of a taste for fighting…although there was the time I tried to defend Rochel’s honor when I first met her, and ended up with a broken nose for my troubles. But all things considered, I left Lodz to become a tailor instead of a soldier, and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Danken Got!3, I have a loving froy4 and tsvey sheyn tekhter5 who bring me naches6. I tightened my embrace around Eva and Rochel, and held them close to me for strength. But Ilse was on her own. And so I prayed to Almighty that he might watch over her, and that she’d be able to take care of herself.

Thankfully, from what I overheard, Ilse managed to ward off Terboven’s initial advances…this time. But then again, Ilse is a capable woman with chutzpah7, and I’ve seen what she could do with an axe.

____________________________________

“What’s in your hand, Frau Köhler?” asked Terboven. He was beckoning with his fingers, trying to lure me closer with his gestures.

“All I have is this,” I said, indicating the menorah just beyond his reach. “It’s nothing but a Kerzenhalter.

“Bring es her8! Zeig es mir9!” he ordered, and I complied with his demand.

He examined it closely and sneered. His mood turned surly. “Do you know the purpose of this?” he barked.

It was a stupid question. Of course I knew what it was, but that wasn’t any of his business. I turned away to pour my Tee.

“Natürlich!” I said. “Isn’t it for holding candles?” I sassed. “Now, if you’ll kindly hand it back, I can replace the candles while there’s still some light left.”

I could feel him eyeing me suspiciously. “You’re sure you don’t know?…Or are you lying?” he insinuated.

I turned to face him, and folded my arms for emphasis. “What exactly is the nature of your interrogation, Oberpräsident?” I asked indignantly.

“Is it because I’m in possession of ein Kerzenhalter?  Sag mir10, bitte. What is the punishment these days for possessing ein Kerzenhalter?” I mocked.

“You refer to this as ein Kerzenhalter, but in reality, Frau Köhler, it’s much more than that,” he expressed, returning the menorah to the table. He uncorked the bottle of schnaps and took a long swig.

I feigned intrigue. “Really!? Well it looks like ein Kerzenhalter to me, and nothing more,” I contradicted. I gathered nine fresh candles and my tee, and moved to a seat at the table across from Terboven.

I spread the candles out, and lined them up in an orderly fashion as he spoke. “What you fail to comprehend,” he lectured, “is it’s relative importance to a particular pesky race of people. For this is no ordinary Kerzenhalter on your table, Frau Köhler. Das ist ein Jüdische Kandelaber11 known as a menorah.” 

Raising his voice, “And what is most disturbing about this Kerzenhalter, is that you are lighting it on the first night of Chanukka…just like a Jude!”

“DO YOU DENY IT?!” he charged. He took another long swig of schnaps.

I pulled the menorah close to me–looking it over with an air of nonchalance–and lit the leading candle in my pile from a vanishing flame that danced around the rim.

“And this Judischer Feiertag12 that you refer to as Chanukka…” I rolled the candle bottom under the flame until the wax softened, and fixed it atop the drippings. “…Enlighten me, bitte.”

I continued the candle replacement as Terboven explained, “Their Feiertag–which lasts for acht Tage und Nachte13–is a reminder of some miracle that they claim happened thousands of years ago when the Juden took back Jerusalem and rededicated their temple. Each night the Jude adds a new candle to the menorah until all the candles are lit on the Achte Nacht14.”

“So why are there places for nine candles, if their Feiertag lasts for eight days?” I wondered aloud.

“How should I know? Do I look like a Jew?” he exploded.

I broke out in laughter. I couldn’t help myself. It must have appeared insulting to him that I would be laughing when he was being serious, but he must have finally recognized the absurdity of his remark, and before too long he was laughing as well.

Fighting back my amusement, I managed to compose myself. “I apologize for laughing, Herr Terhoven. I mean no disrespect, but your question is so ridiculous and ironic. You defend yourself while accusing me of the same crime. It’s a bit funny, don’t you agree?”

“Sehr gut15, Frau Kohler, Sehr gut,” he chuckled. Terhoven took another long drink, and swiped at his mouth with his handkerchief.

“But to your point, Oberpräsident…if I was celebrating the first night of Chanukka…like the Juden…then why have I lit all eight candles on the first night?

“Aha16! You make a valid point, Frau Kühler. “I can see that you are much more than a farmer’s wife. But one last question, bitte...” Now slurring his words,” How did you come by this menorah?“

“Mein Ehemann found it in a trash heap, and brought it home as a gift. The Juden’s loss is our gain!

“L’Chaim17!” Terboven toasted, and finished the bottle.

1Dear God!
2monster
3Thanks to God!
4wife
5two beautiful daughters
6special joy
7moxie
8Bring it here!
9Show me!
10Tell me
11Jewish candelabraewish holiday
12Jewish holiday
13eight days and nights
14eighth night
15very good
16I see!
17To Life!

Uncertainty: Chapter Seven

Posted in History, language, literature, Politics, religionTagged , , , 13 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five
Uncertainty: Chapter Six

Uncertainty: Chapter Seven

We should have been celebrating the Festival of Lights, but I was frozen in finsternish and fear, except for a dim, narrow beam of light that penetrated a thin space between the planks above our heads. From where I sat, I could nearly make out the shadowy forms of Abba and Eema stretched across the mattresses with Eva huddled between them.

They seemed so still and at shalom1. I so wanted to join them—to be snug in their arms while we waited for the world to return to normal—but I dared not move. I sat motionless next to the light switch, wishing I hadn’t volunteered to be so brave and responsible, and now, so far from my mishpucha.

Tante Ilse stood directly above me washing dishes–the plates and utensils clinking clanking against the sink, followed by the hypnotic rhythm of  running water whooshing through the drain pipe near my ear. But none of it could drown out the sound of my anxious heart.

I wanted to sing and dance and play dreidel2, but we were trapped beneath the kitchen with no clear connection, and no way of knowing how long before the “all clear.”

When the front door shut and footsteps clogged across the creaky floor in my direction, I thought the danger had passed…until I heard his voice and gasped.

“Guten Abend, Frau Köhler,” said the Voice.

“Guten Abend, Oberpräsident,” replied Tante.

He crossed the crack in the floor and extinguished all light from above.

_____________________________________

“To what do we owe this unexpected visit?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as I finished up the last of das Geschirr3.

“Nothing of grave importance. I was in need of a Tannenbaum for the Bahnhof,” Terboven replied, “and dein Ehemann4 has graciously offered to provide one, heute Abend.5” In fact, he’s in the wald with my men jetzt6, picking out the tree that we will dedicate tomorrow with Reichsführer7 Himmler by my side,” he proudly proclaimed.

I shut the faucet and wiped my hands on the dish towel (also intended for decorating the kitchen, and most importantly, disguising the opening under the sink). I made certain to properly rearrange the towel when I was finished with it.

“Na sicher8. It’s just that I was never made aware of the appointment, and it is on the late side” I said.

“No appointment, Frau Kohler. I was in the area. I trust this is not too much of an inconvenience, but the Reich is very grateful for your cooperation,” he condescended, while seating himself at the dining table, close by the blackened menorah, it’s flickering candles burning through the last inch.

I was shaking on the inside. How could I have forgotten to replace it? I pulled myself together, pretending that nothing was awry. Calmly, I asked, “Can I put on the Kessel9 for you? Perhaps offer you some Kaffee10or Tee?”

He dabbed his nose with his hankie. “Very kind of you. Perhaps something stronger…if you have it. And you will join me, Ja11?”

I carefully weighed every move and gesture…mine and his. I needed to operate like a reliable German machine. First I grabbed the Teekessel from the stove and filled it at the tap. “Nein danke12, I’m fine with Tee,” I answered.  Second, I lit the back burner, and placed the Teekessel on the flame. Next I removed my mother’s golden candelabra from a shelf above the stove, and placed it on the opposite counter. Then I returned for the hidden bottle of schnaps, but it was just beyond my reach. 

I felt Terboven leaning into me from behind, pressing his rigid body against mine. I could feel his breath against my neck and I froze in fear.

“Allow me to assist you, Frau Kõhler,” he hummed. His right arm slid up the length of my right arm, and lingered on my outstretched fingers. I could feel his left hand spreading across my hip for balance, but I sensed that the Oberpräsident had bolder intentions. He lingered behind me for a moment longer than eternity, and I felt myself going limp.

That’s when the the Teekessel began to schrei13…and revive me…and energize me. I straightened my body and composed myself, and I yelled over the Kessel schrei, so Terboven could hear me. “HERR TERBOVEN,” I demanded, “RELEASE ME AT ONCE!

The Oberpräsident hesitated, but eventually retreated, taking one step back. I lifted the Kessel off the fire to silence the shreiend, but I never stopped screaming. “I AM A MARRIED WOMAN HOLDING A KESSEL FILLED WITH BOILING WASSER14, and I would hate to see you accidentally scalded, mein Oberpräsident.”

He carefully backed away and returned to his seat–his hand choking the neck of the schnaps.

We were at a reset.

“Kommen sei15, Sitzen16!” he invited, tapping the chair beside him. “Keep me company, while Ihre Mann arbeitet17.”

I took a breath to consider. “Einen Moment18, Oberpräsident!”  I casually reached around him and snatched the menorah from the table. “But first allow me to replace the candles in the Kerzenhalter19 before they burn out.”

“Halt20!” Terboven commanded. “Nicht so schnell21!”

1peace
2spinning top
3the kitchenware
4your husband
5tonight
6presently
7Leader of the Secret Intelligence and Gestapo
8Of course
9kettle
10coffee
11Yes
12No thank you
13scream
14water
15Come
16Sit
17your husband works
18candleholder
19One moment!
20Stop!
21Not so fast!

Uncertainty: Chapter Six

Posted in culture, History, literature, religionTagged , , , 11 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four
Uncertainty: Chapter Five

Uncertainty: Chapter Six

Rochel and I jumped at the sound of the knock on the door, always aware of the present danger of being discovered by the authorities. Despite devising an escape plan in case of an emergency–such as now–and practicing our safety drill several times to perfection, we knew that should the time come, our lives depended on making no mistakes. We always knew we had to perform at 100 percent.

“Nur eine minute1!” shouted Max.

Berte and Eva went first. They scurried through the cabinet door and down the hole in the floor as quietly as possible. Rochel and Ilse cleared the extra telers2, gopls3 and mesers4 from the table, and handed everything down to the kinder, while I frantically checked around the kitchen for anything out of the ordinary.

The rap on the door intensified.

“Ich komme5,” Max reaffirmed.

Rochel and I awkwardly scrambled under the kitchen sink into the finsternish6, while Ilsa secured the floorboards from above, and replaced the basket on top as camouflage.

“Nit ein vort!”7 I whispered, and tapped three times on the boards to signal the “all clear.”

_____________________________________

With everything secure, I opened the door to find two soldiers holding flashlights and standing at attention beside a high-ranking uniformed officer in a long black coat who easily fit Menil’s description of the Torah burner.

“Guten Abend, meine Herren8. How can I help you?” I inquired.

“May we come in, Herr Köhler?” asked the Officer. He was carrying a handkerchief in his hand, and wiped his nose.

“Of course.” I stepped aside, and allowed the party to cross the threshold before shutting the door.

“My name is Oberpräsident9 Josef Terboven, and I’ve come for a favor. I realize it’s past the time of your operating hours, but I’ve been quite busy handling a sensitive Jüdisch10 problem in town, so I must apologize for the inconvenience. However, I’m reminded by my staff that the Christmas holiday is nearly upon us, and we’ve yet to dress a Tannenbaum for the Hauptbahnhof 11 square…which brings me to my point for being here at this late hour. With your permission, of course, I’d very much like to procure your best tree to display at our office,” he stated.

“Wunderbar12! It would be my honor, Oberpräsident,” I feigned enthusiastically. “I’d be delighted to select the perfect tree for you, and deliver it personally, morgen früh13.”

“That is totally unnecessary, Herr Köhler. I wouldn’t think of troubling you any further. Besides, my men will see to it tonight, so you needn’t bother yourself about it in the least,” stated President Terboven, emphatically. “In fact, I insist!”

“In that case, perhaps I can assist by escorting you and your men through the feld14,” I replied cautiously, “to show you the very best selection, mein Oberpräsident.”

“I accept!” he nodded, “and appreciate the offer, Herr Köhler. But you’ll excuse me if I don’t accompany you, for I would much prefer to stay out of the weather. You see, I’m nursing a nasty cold at the moment,” he indicated, and dabbed his nose with his handkerchief.

I couldn’t help but notice the “SH” branding on the cloth–realizing that it must have come from Menil’s shop.

President Terboven turned to his recruits, “Bring me a tree that is worthy of the Reich, and see to it that Herr Kohler is treated with proper respect,” he barked.

“Jawohl15!” responded both soldiers in unison with a sharp salute.

“In the meantime, perhaps I can persuade Frau16 Köhler for a tasse17 of heisser Tee18 while everyone is off in the woods.”

“Natürlich!19, Oberpräsident,” I acknowledged. Yet I could feel the bile rising in my throat as I offered, “Mein Haus ist dein Haus20.”

1Just a minute!
2plates
3forks
4knives
5I’m coming!
6darkness
7Not one word!
8Good Evening, gentlemen
9Senior President
9Jewish
10senior president
11Central Station
12Wonderful!
13tomorrow morning
14field
15Yessir
16Mrs.
17cup
18hot tea
19Of course!
20My house is your house

Uncertainty: Chapter Five

Posted in culture, History, literature, Politics, religionTagged , , , , 16 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three
Uncertainty: Chapter Four

Uncertainty: Chapter Five

The first time I met Max Köhler, he came to the shop for two funeral suits–one for himself and one for his father, who was planting seedlings on his property at the time a heavy storm suddenly swept through the area and caused a big tree to crash down on him. He was being buried the next day in Heisinger cemetery, so the suits had to be rushed. Although Max was short on gelt1 at the time, we worked out an equitable arrangement that made my Shaina Maidel very happy on her seventh birthday.

Our friendship deepened over the years that followed, and we never hesitated to help each other or ask the other for help when it mattered. Yet I could not think of asking Max and Ilsa to risk their lives for us when the Nazis intensified their crusade against the Jews…but then, I didn’t have to. Max and Ilsa insisted on helping, and volunteered to shepherd us through our personal nightmare.

Of course, it so happens that Max comes from a long line of earth shepherds who have tilled the same twenty hectares of forest for generations. According to Max, his sliver of land was originally bestowed by a knight from the house of Broich to an ancestral squire who had saved his knight’s life in battle. Max has continued in his father’s mold, living in a 200 year-old stone farmhouse amidst a field of shrubs and trees he’s raised for commercial landscapers and residential gardeners.

Once the great reservoir was completed in ‘33, families throughout Westphalia would traditionally day-trip to the farm before Christmas, scouting here and there for their special fir tree in the forest and chop it down. Then they were off to explore the nearby castle, Schloss Shellenberg2, and finish the day with a boat ride on the Baldeneysee3.
Likewise, the farm became our escape from city life most every Sunday, but because of the Köhlers, it also became our salvation…although, the thought of Tannenbaums4 filling out in the fields was giving us shpilkes5.

The first Shabbos at the farm was a true celebration. Gott sei danke!6, we were all together and we were safe. We davened; we sang; we danced; and we passed around a bottle of shnaps7. But as we got closer to Christmas, it was impossible to know how long our luck would last. On those days we lived in fear, wondering if the Nazis would arrive one day and separate our family, while the goyim were enjoying the fresh smell of pine on their axes.

Those were the days we had to be extra careful, considering the steady flow of traffic to the area. Those were the days we went deeper into hiding. Those were the days we prayed the hardest…but not on Hanukkah! Hanukkah, was different.

_____________________________________

Living underneath the farmhouse kitchen was never easy, but we never complained. On days when the farm was open, the four of us hunkered into a crawl space and we kept very still. Bare bulbs hung from the center floor beam, lighting a path to the end of the wall, where a hanging sheet concealed a tall metal milk can meant for doing our business. Mattresses lined the dirt floor on one side of the beam, while the other side of the floor was used for storage and seating. Usually, Eva would draw and I would read, while Abba and Eema stitched special linings into our winter coats spread across the mattresses.

We studied in silence—under the kitchen floor—until we got the “all clear” signal from Onkel Max and Tante Ilse. We listened for three taps on the floor, after which Eva and I would race to remove the false floor under the kitchen sink cabinet and collect hugs from Onkel and Tante on the other side.

We lived without contact from the outside world—except for whatever news Onkel Max or Tante Ilse brought us whenever one of them returned from town. They would alternate, going every other day for supplies, so one of them was always around should there ever be an unexpected delivery or a visitor to the farm.

“What was it like in town today?” we’d ask, the moment we emerged from hiding.

We hung on every word. One day we learned about a boy on a bike who was hit by a tram while crossing the tracks. There was also news of the grand re-opening of Karstadt Department Store after the looting. On another day, we heard that Hirshland Bank was taken over by the Nazis. And we couldn’t believe that the Nazis were taxing Jewish people for the destruction of Jewish property on what was now being called Kristallnacht.

On December 10, Onkel Max came back from town with a surprise package for us, but he wouldn’t say what it was—only that it was special and it was dirty. Eva and I took turns guessing the contents of the sack, but Onkel Max was shtum8. Eema accepted the sack and disappeared with Abba. They soon reappeared carrying a blackened hanukkiah9 with candles in all eight branches, including the shamash10.

“Yippee! It’s Hanukkah!” gasped Eva.

“But it’s only the first night, and all the candles are staged,” I objected.

“Nevermind!” We are mazldik11 and brukh12 to celebrate when so many others have nothing but tsoris13,” Eema defended.

“Tonight we celebrate for all eight days, and for all the Jews who are unable,” Abba informed.

“Can I help light the candles, Abba?” Eva asked eagerly.

“Absolut14!” agreed Eema. “Tonight, all of us light all the candles.

Eema set the candelabra on the kitchen table, and lit the shamash, holding it as she recited, “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam asher kidishanu b’mitz’votav v’tzivanu l’had’lik neir shel Chanukah. Amein15.”

“Amein,” we responded, collectively.

“Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam she’asah nisim la’avoteinu bayamim haheim baziman hazeh. Amein16.”

“Amein,” we answered.

“Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam shehecheyanu v’kiyimanu v’higi’anu laz’man hazeh. Amein17.”

“Amein!” we shouted.

Eema handed the shamash to Eva with instructions, “Start on the left side, mein lib. Tsvey18 leyts19, and pass the shamash to Berte.”

Eva lit two candles and passed the shamash to me. Eema instructed, “Tsvey leyts, and pass the shamash to Abba.

I did as Eema asked, and the shamash rotated from Abba to Tante Ilse to Onkel Max and back to Eema, with each one taking a turn until the hanukkiah was aglow.

Afterwards, I helped Eema and Ilse in the kitchen, and we enjoyed a delicious holiday meal of brisket, tzimmes20 and latkes21. We ate by the light of the menorah, and for one shining moment everything in the world seemed normal, until a knock on the front door.

1money
2Shellenberg Castle
3largest of six Ruhr resevoirs
4fir trees
5anxiety
6Thank God!
7liquor
8silence
9Hanukkah candelabra
10helper
11lucky
12blessed
13trouble
14absolutely
15Praised are you, our God, ruler of the universe, who made us holy through Your commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah lights. Amen
16Praised are you, our God, ruler of the universe, who performed wondrous deeds for our ancestors in those ancient days at this season. Amen
17Praised are you, our God, ruler of the universe, who has given us life and sustained us and enabled us to reach this season. Amen
18two
19lights
20Jewish stew of sweetened vegetables
21potato pancakes

Uncertainty: Chapter Four

Posted in culture, History, literature, Politics, religionTagged , , , 10 Comments

Uncertainty: Prologue
Uncertainty: Chapter One
Uncertainty: Chapter Two
Uncertainty: Chapter Three

Uncertainty: Chapter Four

We awoke to news of Essen from Maxwell and Ilse Köhler, our country hosts who had gone to town to acquire some of the supplies Rochel and I would need for our stay at the farm. It was to be our temporary hiding place until the Gestapo’s deportation campaign subsided, and when we figured it would be safe to cross into Nederlands.

The Köhlers reported that last night’s pogrom had spilled into the morning, affecting every Jewish community across the Reich. The Gestapo was responsible for torching more than 1000 shuls throughout Germany and Austria, destroying thousands of Jewish homes and thousands of Jewish-owned businesses, arresting more than 30,000 Jews who were expedited to Nazi concentration camps, and inciting riots that left nearly 100 Jews dead in their homes and streets.

Even now, the Jewish orphanage in Dinslaken, 28 kilometers north of us is still burning.

Polish Jews in particular were being heavily targeted by the Nazis as retribution for the assassination of a German diplomat in Paris days earlier by a Jewish teenager from Hannover whose parents had recently been deported back to Poland.

We all sat down to Ilse’s hearty breakfast of fresh-baked Bauernbrot1, marmalade, egg omelet with Gouda cheese, and chopped herring. We mostly ate in silence, using our meal as a last defense against discussing last night’s disturbing details. “There is to be no talking with your mouth full at the dinner table!” was a rule the girls were very familiar with, and with all of us still in shock, there was no fear of this rule being broken now. But a conversation about our future was undeniable and inescapable, and Berte and Eva were deserving of emmes2.

Then just as I was about to confess…

_________________________________________

“Abba, do you have something you want to tell us?” Berte perceptively interrupted.

“There is,” Abba announced. “First of all, I want to apologize. Mutti3 and I are so sorry that your lives have been turned upside down.”

“It’s not your fault, Abba,” expressed Eva. “It’s those damn Nazis.”

“Eva! Don’t make me get the soap!” warned Eema.

“Sorry, Eema,” Eva quickly surrendered.

“You know your Tatti4 and I only want what’s best for you,” conceded Eema.

“That’s right,” Abba continued, “so Mutti and I have come to some bitter truths about our situation…and that means we will no longer be returning to our house. Your Tante5 Ilse and Onkel6 Max went by Ribbeckstrasse this morning to have a look around, and they discovered that there was nothing left of our home or the shop. So really, we have nothing to go back to.”

“But where will we go?” Eva was fighting back tears. “Are we going to the poorhouse?”

“They’re just things, my dear. I will miss them, and it is a big loss for our family, but we are lucky to be alive and be together, Gott Will7!” Eema looked up, trying to make a connection with God, but I was doubtful of an answer.

“And what about school? And what about Shabbat, which is coming tomorrow?” I interjected. I wanted everyone to know how clever I was.

“Ah gezunt ahf dein kup8,” gushed Eema.

Abba proceeded with straight talk. “For now, this is your home. We’re going to be living here with Tante Ilsa and Onkel Max for a bissel. But with some very strict rules, 100 percent,” he affirmed.

“Let me explain,” Eema interrupted–but now extremely sincere. “Your Tatti and I need to remind you that this is a secret that no one must ever know about…for any reason. Our lives depend on this. Farshteyn9?”

“Yes, Eema,” agreed Eva.

“Yes, Eema,” I agreed, and then I thanked Tante Ilse and Onkel Max for letting us stay in their house. But then I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. I had to know. I had to ask

Abba, “Does that mean I get to see Shaina Maidel every day?”

Abba grinned back, “Whever you want, my shaina maidel.”

Abba stood, clasped both hands together to form a broadcast scoop, and brought them to his lips in a grand gesture to capture everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentleman…May I please have your attention…I have an important announcement to make…From now on…we are officially in hiding.”

After the laughter died, he paused and looked as serious as the time I fell from Shaina Maidel the first time I rode her. “And no one is to know that we are here,” he continued. Everything that we need while we are here, Tante Ilse and Onkel Max will provide for us.”

“But that’s not fair! How come Tante Ilse and Onkel Max get to go out, but we can’t?” Eva started up.

“Your Tante and Onkel are grown-ups, and they are not going to do anything that will jeopardize our well-being,” declared Eema.

“But aren’t they going to be in big trouble if they’re not hiding with us?” Eva continued.

Abba walked around the table to where Eva was sitting. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and leaned into her ear. “Nobody’s going to get in trouble if you follow the rules, 100 percent.”

“But what if Tante and Onkel get caught in town? Then who’s going to take care of us?” she persisted.

Abba’s mood changed, and I knew for certain that Eva’s relentless curiosity had finally gotten to him, and he would explode. He straightened up and playfully formed his large hands around Eva’s neck, pretending to strangle her.

“Oy gevalt10! Too many what ifs! Genug11 with the questions, Eva,” Abba geshrign12.

Eva played along. She vigorously wagged her head to and fro to imitate being choked to death. She slowly closed her eyes and abruptly went limp. Then she ever-so-slowly rolled out her tongue. We gave her a standing ovation.

Tante Ilse reached across the table and grabbed Eva’s hand. “Don’t worry your pretty head about anything. Nobody’s going to hurt us, or hurt your family. Ich verspreche13.”

1German farmer’s bread
2truth
3mommy
4daddy
5aunt
6uncle
7God willing
8blessing on your head
9understand
10Enough already!
11enough
12shrieked
13I promise