| Shoes. Seemingly endless shoes. That’s all I can think about. |
| I know you cannot be talking about my closet. |
| Far from it! It’s an image that’s forever burned in my memory. A pile of shoes, each one representing a life lost. Each one a story onto itself. Each one proof of something we should never forget. |
| Normally, I would ask you to tell me what you are talking about or accuse you of being overly dramatic. But, not this time. |
| When you sent me the article about the United Nations recently issuing a strong message against the denial or the distortion of the facts surrounding the Holocaust – the first thought that came to my mind was the shoes. How can you ignore the piles of victims’ shoes?! |
| The same way you can ignore the documentary footage of the liberation of the concentration camps, and all the horrible evidence that was left behind. How do you ignore the many books on the subject, not to mention the first-hand accounts of survivors? |
| I’m not saying that can be ignored. It’s almost unimaginable and horrible and heartbreaking. But there’s a difference between learning about history and literally standing feet away from thousands of shoes that had been worn by the victims, each representing not only a life but a family, a community. |
| I understand. I read The Diary of Anne Frank in school, but when I walked through the actual house in Amsterdam, it became real. And overwhelming. That is why there are Holocaust Museums and memorials around the world. And, unfortunately, there were enough victims’ shoes to allow them to be displayed in many places. |
| I remember the first time I went to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. It was only a few weeks after it opened in 1993, and although I was 30 years old and had learned about the Holocaust in school, it was still overwhelming. I’ll never forget that the exhibit with the shoes was filled with visitors, yet it had an eerie silence. |
| Yes, it is a haunting experience. I remember you telling me, decades later, that after you and Sawyer visited the museum, of everything on display, that also was what struck her the most. And, I am guessing she probably heard less about the Holocaust in school than we did. |
| Growing up, I remember hearing about the loss of 6 million Jews during the Holocaust, and that the world should “never forget.” But it seems that people are not only forgetting, but many are now denying it ever happened! Why else would the United Nations have to issue a statement?! |
| A statement that also urges social media platforms to take active measures to combat antisemitism and Holocaust denial or distortion. |
| What scares me the most is that the more people deny the Holocaust ever happened, the more likely such horrors can happen again. That history will repeat itself. |
| You are the lover of history, not me, and for years have told me that not acknowledging history dooms you to repeat the mistakes. But, that is also true of all of us. If we do not acknowledge mistakes, then we are apt to repeat them. |
| Fine, but how do you combat not only hate, but lies, lies that are accepted as truth. Tell me how you do that. |
| There is no easy answer. That may be why there is an International Holocaust Remembrance Day. But, one day a year is not enough for each of us to focus on seeking the truth, and not repeating things if we are not sure they are true. And, sharing what we know to be true. |
| Like the overwhelming emotion brought on by piles and piles of victim’s shoes? Shoes that scream out, “Never forget“ or, maybe more accurately, “Never forget me.” |
| The only way to make sure we “never forget” is for us to “always remember” and help others do the same. |
Red's two Labradoodles
May is National Pet Month, and it’s a bittersweet time for Red as she lost Moo (her black Labradoodle pictured above) just before the New Year. It’s the first time she’s been without a pet since Woof arrived (see below for original post from 2021, including the third “silly name”), and not a day goes by that she doesn’t miss the companionship and unconditional love. So, she tries to focus on all the wonderful memories, knowing that one day she’ll welcome another pet into her life …
Well, this month marks 18 years since you changed my life, so I wanted to thank you. Again. For bringing such happiness into the lives of the girls and me, although some heartbreaking sadness, too. But there's nothing like unconditional love. | |
OK, but can you tell me what you are talking about? | |
Do you remember when I moved to Houston after living overseas, and we started going to the Hyatt Hill Country in San Antonio for Memorial Day weekend? You were married to Larry, and his girls were young, and Natasha and Sawyer were even younger. Well, in 2003 you asked me if it was OK if you got us a puppy. | |
You had always talked about getting a dog but wanted to have children first. The timing seemed right, but given your allergies, the options were limited. Until I learned about a new breed, well technically a mixed breed, originally developed in Australia to be hypoallergenic guide dogs. | |
I'll never forget you showing me photos of the most incredibly adorable dogs I'd ever seen. The fact Labradoodles were half standard poodle, which was what I had initially thought we'd get, and half Labrador Retriever was amazing. But only you could find the perfect dog from an article in a business magazine. |
Fortune magazine. It was written by Andy Serwer back when he was Managing Editor (he now is Editor-in-Chief of Yahoo! Finance), and you never knew the topic – or angle – of his next piece. Sometimes serious, sometimes amusing, but always astute and worth reading. And, I actually saved that article. | |
Of course, you did. All I know is that starting with that day in the hotel, I was in love, first with the idea of the Labradoodle, then with the puppy pictures they sent us, and then with her. In fact, from literally the moment you and I picked her up at the airport and then came home and gently placed her next to an unsuspecting Natasha who was asleep on the sofa, she became the most loved member of the family. | |
If only people were as good at unconditional love as pets. Anyway, not only are pets a source of love and companionship, but studies – and science – have shown there are proven health benefits . | |
Well, I don't need a study to tell me how much, over the last 18 years, having Woof, and then Oink and Moo, has meant to the girls and me. And although I still find it upsetting to think of Woof's early passing in 2007, and Oink having left us this past summer still breaks my heart, I'm so grateful for all the memories and love that's still there. | |
I do not think we ever forget them. I still remember Mom's family dog, Buttons, a beautiful Irish Setter that Grandma Betty and Poppy Louie would sometimes bring to the house so she could run free in the backyard. She was almost as tall as me, but was very gentle, and always affectionate. | |
That's funny because our childhood dog, Yenta, was anything but affectionate. I know poodles have a reputation of being proud, and although I loved her, she wasn't the most lovable dog around. I just wanted her to be cuddly, but she wouldn't have any part of it. Instead, if a dog could put their nose up in the air and walk off with a royal air about them, that was her. | |
I prefer to think of it as being stubborn. And, independent. Both traits of poodles. And, may explain why she and I got along so well. | |
No comment. Except to remind pet owners that this is National Pet Month. So, what better time to show your pet how much you love them than to celebrate with them? |
Since today’s Christmas and Chanukah starts tonight, we want to wish you Happy Christmukkah (yes, it’s a real thing)! And we’re rerunning this Christmas story from Black’s childhood – not only because it’s one of Red’s favorites, but because believing in Santa can happen to anyone, even Black …
BLACK: I do not know at what age my Christmas memories began, but I do remember being very young and in awe of a very large – and very well decorated – Christmas tree in our family room. I even remember peeking down the stairs late one evening and seeing my mother standing extremely close to Santa Claus. OK, you might not find that an unusual memory, except my family is Jewish.
Apparently, my parents thought it was easier to decorate and give gifts for both Chanukah and Christmas than to try and explain why religiously they only celebrated the "smaller" holiday, although I must have sensed that. (Children usually do.)
And, I remember exactly when I came to the realization that Santa was not real. I was five years old and in the hospital with pneumonia and in the middle of the night, a Santa came by giving out Christmas gifts. I must have sensed his presence because when he arrived at the foot of my bed, I sat up and immediately told him that I could not have any Christmas gifts. He questioned why not (maybe thinking I was going to state I had not been good all year, which probably would have been an accurate statement), and I told him it was because I was Jewish.
He leaned over my bed, pulled away his fake beard, and whispered in my ear, "It's ok – so am I." And, without his beard, I immediately recognized him as one of the doctors who had checked on me several times during my stay. We smiled at each other, knowing that we had a special bond, and he left me a gift.
Now, older and wiser, I have come to the conclusion … Santa does exist. You just have to believe …
Although Red isn’t cooking this Thanksgiving and will be reading “The Godfather” instead of watching it on TV, some traditions remain unchanged. Like reminiscing about the perfect, albeit naked, turkey! And rerunning Black’s Thanksgiving post from 2020.
It instantly became a favorite of Red’s and provides the perfect opportunity for her to wish you a very Happy Turkey Day …
Today is Thanksgiving, and I cannot help but wonder why we are online. However, everyone has their own way of celebrating. I know that Red is in the kitchen cooking – and watching a marathon of "The Godfather" movies. Which is perfect as turkeys take such a long time to cook and patience is important when you want it perfectly browned. So inviting, so appetizing, so … naked?
Growing up, our house used to be where everyone congregated for the holidays. Not because my mother was a good cook, or even liked to entertain, but because my parents bought a house on Long Island while the rest of her family continued to live in apartments in Brooklyn and the Bronx. In other words, they had the most room.
Thanksgiving was always a house full of people and everyone always gathered in the kitchen, which made food preparation a challenge. Especially as everyone loved to nibble on ingredients during the process. For the most part, Mom was a good sport about it. But, the closer we got to the turkey being ready, the more food she would move into the dining room, hoping we would follow the food.
I remember one year when the turkey cooling on the counter looked like something from a magazine – it was perfectly browned. Normally, it was splotchy, although you never knew it once my father was done carving it. (Although an engineer, he had dreamed of being a surgeon and every year as I watched him carve the turkey, I would think he missed his true calling.) Anyway, my mother was so proud of this perfectly browned turkey that she would not let anyone near it, and was delaying the inevitable carving.
However, she made the mistake of taking the balance of the side dishes into the dining room and my father must have been helping as my cousin and I snuck back into the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, we had striped that turkey naked. Enjoying the crispy skin (ok, this was well before the days we were told it was "bad" for you) and laughing until my parents returned to see what was causing the commotion.
Mom was less than pleased, while Daddy tried to hide his amusement. My cousin ran to the safety of his parents, while I stood there defiantly asking if could have a wing. To this day, I cannot see a perfectly browned turkey without remembering that Thanksgiving. And, I venture to guess it has become a favorite memory of my Mom's, as well.
So today, at the risk of being warm and fuzzy (which is Red's area of responsibility),
I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving … filled with memories that will last a lifetime.