Well, you don't have to wonder where your muse is. That was a sweet piece of writing RD.
So moving. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Very powerful post
Thank you
Thank you. You honor us bringing to life so eloquently these people we would never know except thru you. You have become my favorite essayist.
Can't say anything that won't detract from the moment. Thanks.
Life often takes the most wondrous side roads, doesn't it? You made a choice - and that choice led you to this family. Magic. I loved your poem. How amazing that you understood what that meant at such a young age. You have a beautiful mind, my dear.
An interesting slice of your life again and, parenthetically, another connection between us. I have, and have often used and still use, the Tassajara breadbook. I've made that cornbread and many of the other recipes too. I used to make bread every week for years but have let the practice go, partly because I would eat too much of the bread too quickly. (I know the bread was not the focus of your post but it jumped out at me.)
I know too that the bread was not the focus of your post, but as with Ontario Wanderer, the mention of the Tassajara bread book leaped out at me because we had that for many years and the corn bread recipe was the best. And the millet bread! Plus I'm allergic to wheat and though I eat it (and shouldn't) during times when I was trying to not eat it I'd use the book as a base for wheatless breads and cakes, altering the recipes. The wheatless carrot cake I used to make, based on Tassajara, was wonderful.
My father used to work with a survivor of one of the camps. He would do things like never throwing out any food, couldn't bring himself to do it, the refrigerator filling with old food.
One of my husband's great uncles was a survivor of the worst POW camp in Germany and he was never quite able to integrate himself fully back into society afterwards.
Some grand memories from that summer you have.
Lovely, RD, just lovely. Your deep appreciation of people is so wonderful.
What a nice tribute and a real slice of your life as well.
We just had dinner with someone whose first husband was a film student back in those days. Perhaps they made excellent starter husbands...
...that wouldn't be three-layer cornbread, would it?
Oh, damn, RD, this post has made me cry. That's a great poem, for all it does and does not say.
Such a moving tribute, RD. I always look forward to your poetry. What a beautiful gift for L. And so wonderful to learn even more about your fascinating life and adventures.
[Isn't it great that so many of us can be linked by a recipe? As I read your post, I went "Wow! Tassajara!"]
What a feast is is for us, your loyal readers, to get another juicy slice of your life, your wanderings and adventures, all topped off with the delicious icing of a poem! Thank you RD, for sharing the bounty of your memories with us all.
Coincidentally, I'm currently reading Eichmann in Jerusalem, and it all seems like history. But then a post like this ones brings the horror into modern life. I'm glad they were able to create some good into their lives and that you were able to share.
RD, went away for a long weekend - and look at all I missed! Your writing and photography are truly a blessing for me and the many others who frequent your blog.
Sorry to hear about your sister's accident - and so relieved that she survived. I can relate, you know, as I'm still recovering from my bicycle accident (but gladly will not be needing surgery, yeah!) And in the last two weeks I've attended funerals for folks who should not be gone from our world yet - a 46 year old man who died in his sleep and a 50 year old female (whose two teenage children are our main babysitters) died of pneumonia. And we've had two murders within two blocks of our house in the last six weeks. Our community is reeling. And, of course, the Tsumami and Katrina and the war. Senseless death. Destruction and Corruption. My kids want to talk about it and want me to make sense of it for them. Sometimes I only have hugs and tears to give them.
February has been a very long month.
When we were away, we got to see Dar Williams perform. Her song "February" resonated with us. Have you heard it? The lyrics are here: http://www.lyricsdownload.com/da...ary-
lyrics.html
Today's post is delicious. Thanks for sharing.
Everyone-- Thank you so much for your kind words and praise. It was an interesting time and I'm glad that it translates.
Ever since the pirate and I retired I have been baking our bread. I do use the Tassajara basic recipe, and I bake two loaves every week or so. It's such a great recipe, and for me baking is like Zen.
I haven't made the 3-layer cornbread in 30 years! I loved that strange concoction. What I made for J was the corn muffins that I baked in a 9x12 baking dish. I still make that recipe, but I'm thinking I'd like to make that 3 layered bread again. I wonder if I'd still like it. Mmmm?
I think the horrors humans visit upon other humans will always be with us, until we've finished each other off. Bleak perspective? Yes, but it's pretty much how I see us.
I know Dar Williams song! I almost posted the lyrics to February and a link to the song in the February post. Such a touching piece of music.
a girlfriend from grade school was the daughter of concentration camp parents. I saw her mother's number tatoo on her wrist one day. it sent shivers down my spine. I had a hard time aligning what seemed to me to be her mother's serenity with what I knew to be the horrors of the camps. in retrospect, she must have been a very strong woman.
I've lost track of these people completely, friends from when I lived in akron, ohio, in the 1960s. maybe someone reading these posts will know. I think my friend's father was involved in building the first-ever american retail mall.
...
What a lovely family, and a poignant memory. I love reading the twists and turns your life has taken, you sure know how to turn out a good story.
The point is natural and powerful, evocative and real. I love the cracking open of the bones to suck the marrow -- metaphorically as well as literally. I really saw him there at that table.
I think a book IS in order, darling. Really, I do.
Wonderful writing, RD; writing that engenders so many mixed emotions and encourages so much reflection. Sharing life like this is one of the things that makes us human, in the best sense. True communication, at the level that connects us with each other. Inspirational — thankyou.
RD-
Just a beautiful story and poem, thank you.
It's so wonderful to read you describing a piece of your life, and the lives you connected with at that time. Beautiful post.
By the way, I have had the song "February" in my head all month now. My favorite verse is this:
First we forgot where we planted those bulbs last year
And then we forgot that we planted at all
Then we forgot what plants are altogether
And I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting...
This is the most beautiful site, I love it to bits. Whatever else is going on in the world, you're the good news.
Your post provoked so much thought. Thoughts about how small my own complaints of inequity are...how petty my feelings of loss are when viewed through the eyes of someone who knows a darkness I have never known, a fear that has never splintered my walls, a terror that has never penetrated my being, and evil that has never lingered in my immediate presence. I am speechless to even contemplate such loss, such pain, such life-changing trauma. And, to think this man was cheerful. I am shamed by my own self-indulgence.
Thank you for sharing a clip of your memories of this kind family.
RD - thanks for that short but deep story and hello from the first day of March. With winter now officially over there should be more blue skies ahead?
Terrific post, story and poem both. What a pleasure to read.
my sister's best friend's parents are holocaust survivors.
your story, photo, and poem are so powerful -- they evoke so much about memory, horror, humor, love, family, and the layers that make up a rich life.
it's great you are back in touch with L. what's 15 years, anyway?
Beautiful post. The poem was a thoughtful reminder for his daughter. It was such a nice thing to do - sending it to L. It reminded her of how wonderfully he touched the lives of others.
That's a nice story. FWIW his 17710 Auschwitz number is not a zip code, but 71107 is a Shreveport zip. Interesting. He must have looked up a city with some combination of those numbers.
It was a nice poem, as well as a nice story.
i love the simple eloquence of the poetry. and like others, the reminder of the tassajara bread book leapt off the page. hmmm....what do i remember baking?...apart from the breads, of course....peach kuchen / honey bars / coffee cake - with walnuts and brown sugar / sesame halva.......all good....memorable.
Everyone-- Thanks so much for the comments. I do appreciate it so much. It was interesting taking a look back. I wrote the poem ten years ago when my family found my mom's cousin alive in Israel. We all thought he had perished in the camps, like the rest of his family. Finding him reminded me of J, so I wrote the poem around the same time I wrote this one:
Holocaust Remembrance
And Huitzil-- I have been thinking abou that zipcode all day. L wrote me that number, and I knew it looked wrong. She transposed the numbers. I clearly remember that "7" was the first number in the series. It was the zipcode for Shreveport. I think L gave me the zipcode for Long Island!
Once again, I wish I knew you back then when you lived in the tipi. But I'm so happy that the spirit of that girl is still so alive in you--and that I have a chance to know you now.
Wonderful, wonderful post
this was incredible to read.
thanks for that!
thank you so much in sharing a tiny bit of their lives with us...very touching.
Beautifully wrought and highly evocative. And I fell for L's father just reading your poem. Thank you.
Thank you also for the sharing of your history- we are within a year of each other so the times, they are familiar. Some of us went off the path and then wandered back to it- I enjoy that you continue to walk down your own.
just beautiful. deeply powerful and moving!
truly amazing story, and a glimpse of the complex beauty your life's road has led you through. wonderful poem. amazing that he had the good humor to call it a zipcode. heroic even.
I've lost track of the tangled trail I followed to find you here, but I'm sure glad I did. I like this piece a lot. I find it rich with image and flavour.
Ah. You and I are the same age and we have similar, peripatic histories! I worked as a waitress and a cook on both coasts, and places inbetween and at age 39 re-entered college (USCS) because, after all, having enjoyed my retirement, it was time to grow up and get a real job.
casino free fun online casino free fun online casino free fun online. crazy vegas flash casino crazy vegas flash casino crazy vegas flash casino.
Commenting by HaloScan
