Surreal
This morning I had to make a trip to the American Consul in Haifa to take care of some passport stuff and on my way back to work I accidentally caught the bus on the wrong side of the street, which means that I ended up at the Central bus station 45 minutes away from where I work. . When I got there, all of the bus drivers were on some sort of orchestrated break and didn't leave for another 20 minutes, and then it took me another 40 minutes to get back to work. If I had gotten on the bus on the right side of the street it would have taken me approximately 11 minutes to get to work.
The good news is that I met an amazing woman on my way to the Central Bus station. The woman sitting across from me was 84 years old and very sweet. I could tell right away that she had...something. A radiance about her. She started talking to me in Hebrew and I politely told her that I don't speak it, so she switched to English and we made small talk for a while. I eventually asked her why she spoke English and she told me she learned it in school. "Here?" I asked. "No, in Europe," she said. Immediately, I thought, "concentration camp survivor". Maybe a presumptuous thought, but as it turns out, a correct one. I would never be so insensitive as to ask right out, but she brought it up herself. So then I started asking a few questions, gauging her face to make sure I wasn't upsetting her with my questions. She was open to talking about it, but also visibly upset at the memories. Apparently she was 14 years old and living in Germany when it happened. Her entire family was taken, all of her brothers and sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts. She said every.single.member of her family was killed except for her. Every Single One. Her family now are her 2 children, her 7 grandchildren, and her 3 greatgrandchildren.
Her English was not great and my Hebrew is pitiable so I did not understand a lot of what she said, but she told me the camps were sheer horror. She said one day you would be talking to someone, the next day they were dead. Fifty of them just dead the next day. It was like that everyday at the camp.
She was visibly shaken as she spoke of it, recalling the memory of those past days when every person that meant anything to her was stolen away. Brutally murdered.
Yet this woman had radiance, charisma. She was sweet and thoughtful. I could tell right away. I wonder the strength of character one must possess to have significant years of your life be shaped by murder and hatred and loss and sorrow, and still be a human being. A warm human being, at that.
The good news is that I met an amazing woman on my way to the Central Bus station. The woman sitting across from me was 84 years old and very sweet. I could tell right away that she had...something. A radiance about her. She started talking to me in Hebrew and I politely told her that I don't speak it, so she switched to English and we made small talk for a while. I eventually asked her why she spoke English and she told me she learned it in school. "Here?" I asked. "No, in Europe," she said. Immediately, I thought, "concentration camp survivor". Maybe a presumptuous thought, but as it turns out, a correct one. I would never be so insensitive as to ask right out, but she brought it up herself. So then I started asking a few questions, gauging her face to make sure I wasn't upsetting her with my questions. She was open to talking about it, but also visibly upset at the memories. Apparently she was 14 years old and living in Germany when it happened. Her entire family was taken, all of her brothers and sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts. She said every.single.member of her family was killed except for her. Every Single One. Her family now are her 2 children, her 7 grandchildren, and her 3 greatgrandchildren.
Her English was not great and my Hebrew is pitiable so I did not understand a lot of what she said, but she told me the camps were sheer horror. She said one day you would be talking to someone, the next day they were dead. Fifty of them just dead the next day. It was like that everyday at the camp.
She was visibly shaken as she spoke of it, recalling the memory of those past days when every person that meant anything to her was stolen away. Brutally murdered.
Yet this woman had radiance, charisma. She was sweet and thoughtful. I could tell right away. I wonder the strength of character one must possess to have significant years of your life be shaped by murder and hatred and loss and sorrow, and still be a human being. A warm human being, at that.
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