Wind has picked up the rain has come late setting sun has turned the sky pinkish; day done. Dogs asleep, tv moans, left the radio on and in the distance a low voice and further down the hall the dryer churns. Its Sunday night and I am like my mother tuned into melodramas and murder mysteries. Yesterday I found a long letter from my father dated 1996, five years before he died. In it he talks at length about the anti-Semitism he grew up with in pre war Poland and how he survived the war. He named the address he lived on and I went to Google maps and there stands the building across the street from Schubert Park. All the Jews of that town are gone but he mentions his brother who is buried in the townsJewish cemetery and how the community of Jews dates back 1000 years. After the war he never went back.
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 00:54:47 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015