Monday, March 23, 2009

Bits and pieces..

It's been awhile since I've been here judging from the date of my last post. Life has been very busy for me. I started working after lazying around for 4 years and I've had a hard time figuring out how to manage everything in my life now. I'm doing it, but it's hard!

My younger son moved out and my older son and his wife moved in. Haha, I guess my husband and I will never have privacy..:) Oh well, it's an excuse to go away for little weekend trips I guess, works for me.

I lost quite a bit of weight and along with that, a lot of hair. That was quite a shock! But, my doctor put me on a schedule of Rogane, which I never remember to use and I absolutely hate the stuff! My son put me on a regimen of vitamins and within one month my hair started growing back in! I guess all those years at that medical school was worth it.

What else...Hmm

I started on my poetry again. It's been years, but I've had a yearning to write again, so might post some on here once in awhile.

Friday, July 11, 2008

This is a great night...

My brother called, he's a dad for the first time. The baby came three weeks early and his wife only had labor for two hours. Dang, two hours?? I was in labor for 12 hours. 12 long, long, hours.

Anyhow, he's over 50 and he's been wanting a child for as long as I can remember. He finally met a Russian woman on-line through a dating service. He traveled back and forth to Russia for three years visiting with her and her young son.

He asked her to marry him and it took another year for the government to allow her to come here with a visa. It was a rocky first year for them. The language barrier was awful, she didn't understand many of our customs and it was the same for him. He almost sent her back. The young son had a difficult time in school, kids made fun of him because he dressed differently and spoke Russian, so he acted out, at school and home.

But, my brother was determined to stick it out and try and make it work. She finally started to learn English and they both gave it their all in accepting each others customs. The boy, now loves school, has done really well learning English and has made many friends. What an improvement in a years time!

She became pregnant and just a few hours ago gave birth to a little girl which they named after my mother. He called me and he sounds so happy!... Aww, I going to cry..

The bad thing, is that my mom flew to CT this morning to attend her best friends funeral. I got a call from her when her plane landed, but her phone cut off after she said she arrived. It's been off ever since. I bet she forgot her charger and if that's the case, she won't find out about her new grandchild until Sunday night. How sad, she has been so excited about the birth of this baby.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

I found my Beatle Dolls!

I just bought this Dooney and Burke purse on ebay. It is sooo cute! I just love it. I'm becoming addicted to ebay, I swear. I use to have these Beatle Dolls my Uncle gave me, when I was very young. My brother tore the heads off of them. I found this out years later, LOL.

I thought, just for the heck of it, maybe I'll find them on there. I did! What good memories they brought back, just looking at them on ebay. I've started bidding, but dang, people are crazy on how much they're willing to spend! I have to be realistic, I know what my limit is. Which is very cheap, hahaha.

Hey, I should make my brother buy them for me, what do you think?

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Too funny! How did you score, haha?

During a visit to a mental institution the visitor asked the Director:

How do you determine whether or not a patient should be


Well ,said the Director, 'we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a

teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask

him or her to empty the bathtub.'

Oh, I understand,' said the visitor.

A normal person would use the bucket

because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup.'

No.' said the Director, 'A normal person would pull the plug.

Do you want a bed near the window?'

Sunday, February 17, 2008

A perfect Love Story

A Girl with an Apple

August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland. The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.

"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, "don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen". I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, then asked my age. "Sixteen," I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.

My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, "Why?" He didn't answer. I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her. "No," she said sternly. "Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers." She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at theBuchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers. "Don't call me Herman anymore." I said to my brothers. "Call me 94983."

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number. Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin. One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice Son, she said softly but clearly, I am sending you an angel. Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a young girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German.
<> "Do you have something to eat?" She didn't understand. I inched closer to the fence and repeated question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow."
<> I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her just a kind farm girl except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.
<> Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia.. "Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving." I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.
We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.
<> At 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too.
Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
<> Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S.Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years. By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.
<> One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. "I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date." A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at aBronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.
<> The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.
<> We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, "Where were you," she asked softly, "during the war?" "The camps," I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.
<> She nodded. "My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin," she told me. "My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers." I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were, both survivors, in a new world.
<> "There was a camp next to the farm." Roma continued. "I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day."
<> What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. "What did he look like? I asked. He was tall, Skinny, and Hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months." My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be. "Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?" Roma looked at me in amazement "Yes," That was me! " I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it. My angel.
"I'm not letting you go." I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait. "You're crazy!" she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.
<> That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren I have never let her go.
Herman Rosenblat Miami Beach, Florida