I have loved to read about history ever since high school; due in large part no doubt to a history teacher who taught it as though yesterday was still alive. Right before this summer I read 'The Book Thief' which inspired me to try to find more stories about Germany in WWII, particularly those that dealt with children if possible. Then this summer I went on to read 'The Guernsey Literary and Potatoe Pie Society, Sara's Key and The Savior: a Novel.' Though I've read a number of others these remained the ones that stuck with me the most, then as I've already stated, while shopping in Barnes & Noble's I came across 'Elijah Visible'. Its the first in a trilogy about the effects the Holocaust is having on succeeding generations. Then to my great surprise, today I came across a website in which the author, Thane Rosenbaum, was being interviewed .... this was like adding frosting to the cake. If you would like to read the interview, its rather lengthy, it will give you an excellent idea behind his books and his philosophy of life, you may find it at this address:
http://faculty.tamu-commerce.edu/droyal/Thane%20Rosenbaum%20Interview.pdf.
enjoy!
This chapter brought back memories of the death of my sister, and her relationship with her son, my nephew. A number of years ago my sister died, and her son was incarcerated at the time. By a miracle the prison authorities allowed him to be transported to our home town, and he was allowed to visit the funeral home with guards and no one else there. There he was able to grieve at her casket; however a huge burden of guilt overtook him, because in those hours when he should have been by her side, because of prior bad decisions he was absent. I don't think he was ever able to find closure because two years later, driving too fast he couldn't make the curve on a country road and was thrown from his car. The tragedy continues, for he was the only strong male figure in the daily life of his sister's son, his nephew. Sometimes its better to forgo a pleasure of the present to honor the memory of those who reside in the past.
_______________________________
In searching for a picture of a Jewish Yohrzeit light for this article I came across this Yohrzeit poem by Moshe Waldman, Paris 1965 ............ I thought it might give you another flavor for the event and even the book I'm reading
YOHRZEIT CANDLE
Kaddish you're supposed to recite in public, under light burning for a minyan of Jews-
That's what the zeydes with beards used to do.
But I pray only dumbly. And alone. I lift up my arms like menorahs
And recite all my prayers in silence within grey, empty./still walls.
What should someone do who can pray only in himself?
Where should such a person go, not to be a fool?
A person who delves deep into his own pain
And friends naked/ruined cemeteries in a magnificent, disgusting world?
Ashamed, he calls to his almighty: 'Lord- The One in whom everyone wants to believe?
For transforming all life into dust, for that pain You deserve dumb praise.'
Where should I recite kaddish? I am left so alone.
Next Chapter: #3 "The Pants in the Family"
http://faculty.tamu-commerce.edu/droyal/Thane%20Rosenbaum%20Interview.pdf.
enjoy!
This chapter brought back memories of the death of my sister, and her relationship with her son, my nephew. A number of years ago my sister died, and her son was incarcerated at the time. By a miracle the prison authorities allowed him to be transported to our home town, and he was allowed to visit the funeral home with guards and no one else there. There he was able to grieve at her casket; however a huge burden of guilt overtook him, because in those hours when he should have been by her side, because of prior bad decisions he was absent. I don't think he was ever able to find closure because two years later, driving too fast he couldn't make the curve on a country road and was thrown from his car. The tragedy continues, for he was the only strong male figure in the daily life of his sister's son, his nephew. Sometimes its better to forgo a pleasure of the present to honor the memory of those who reside in the past.
_______________________________
In searching for a picture of a Jewish Yohrzeit light for this article I came across this Yohrzeit poem by Moshe Waldman, Paris 1965 ............ I thought it might give you another flavor for the event and even the book I'm reading
YOHRZEIT CANDLE
Kaddish you're supposed to recite in public, under light burning for a minyan of Jews-
That's what the zeydes with beards used to do.
But I pray only dumbly. And alone. I lift up my arms like menorahs
And recite all my prayers in silence within grey, empty./still walls.
What should someone do who can pray only in himself?
Where should such a person go, not to be a fool?
A person who delves deep into his own pain
And friends naked/ruined cemeteries in a magnificent, disgusting world?
Ashamed, he calls to his almighty: 'Lord- The One in whom everyone wants to believe?
For transforming all life into dust, for that pain You deserve dumb praise.'
Where should I recite kaddish? I am left so alone.
Next Chapter: #3 "The Pants in the Family"
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