Thursday, March 31, 2005

Naches (2)

as wellspring
of heartstring
and mind spring.

To the next post in the "naches" sequence

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Naches (1)

Perceiving and receiving the love and respect of my children.

To the next post in the "naches" sequence

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Obviation (15)

Parting patience with persistent pests.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Misfortune (5)

Stuck in the slough,
covered with bruises,
numb to subsequent cuffs.

To the next post in the "misfortune" sequence

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Holocaust survivors... not

The man in the center in the white coat is my grandfather after whom I'm named.

With many thanks to the Jewish Historical Museum in Amsterdam.

To the next post in the "second generation" sequence

Friday, March 25, 2005

Holocaust survivors, second generation (10)

Two cousins, two perceptions.
To my cousin, she was the nicest grandmother imaginable, but to me... My first vivid memory of her was when I suppose I was 8 or 9 years old. We had not seen her for a while and my mother took me to the bus station to fetch her. Walking towards us was this old, aloof, surly and sombre woman. Then there is this other occasion I remember; I must have been 11 or so. I was waiting somewhere when she coincidentally walked by. I went over to greet her, innocent and naïve as only kids can be, and she looked at me with some disgust. She continued without even stopping or saying anything to me.

“Your mother acted as a spoiled child in Bergen-Belsen.”
What coloured this relationship to such extent? Was it bad chemistry between mother and daughter, plain wickedness or something else? Why did that woman favour her eldest daughter and her children above her other daughter and hers? My cousin recently told me that according to his mother, my mother acted like a spoiled child in the concentration camp (she was 12 when the war ended). That remark shone a whole new light on the situation for me.

Family as relics of pain?
Painful memories dug up, flashbacks, just by seeing someone or hearing the name of a murdered spouse (I’m named after my grandfather, her husband). If so, I feel pity for this woman who wasn't capable of digesting her emotions, but vented them frustratedly. If not... well... at least I had the two nicest grandparents imaginable; on my father’s side.

To the next post in the "second generation" sequence

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Midlife (17)

Detached from the public at large, the valuable degrades.
Seceded into the inmost, pessimism pervades.

Got to focus on those I love.

To the next post in the "midlife" sequence

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Midlife (16)

My life's work?
Subject to decay.

My self-respect?
Fluttering away.

And my verve?
Reversed to gray.

To the next post in the "midlife" sequence

Monday, March 21, 2005

Self-awareness (3)

The motive for ambition is the search for recognition.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Misfortune (4)

When Misadventure is buccaneering,
Feelings of Inferiority take over steering.

To the next post in the "misfortune" sequence

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Friday, March 18, 2005

Misfortune (2)

Seven good years,
seven bad.
Still three to go.

To the next post in the "misfortune" sequence

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Holocaust survivors, second generation (9)

I must have been 6.

We were in our car, standing at a red light. My father driving, my mother next to him and me in the backseat.

Next to us, real close, another car with German plates stopped. The driver looked into our car and smiled from behind his closed window. My mother was almost closer to him then to my father and she got angry with this German guy. He kept smiling at her while her anger developed into a panic rage.

I can’t remember any other occasIon, seeing my mother with that sort of mixture of anger and panic.

Light turned green, both cars pulled away at the same speed, at the same close distance to each other. Then the guy took a right turn.

And we continued along the road. My parents in the front and me in the back as observing fellow passenger.

To the next post in the "second generation" sequence

Wednesday, March 16, 2005


Missing a parental shoulder to cry on.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Obviation (14)

Both err.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Lo lishma (4)


"613, and I don’t need no calculating machine!"

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Lo lishma (3)

What is the use discussing the existence of a god?

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Lo lishma (2)

Critical thinking beyond the safety fence.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Obviation (13)

Evidently abundantly receiving and grudgingly scarcely giving.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Obviation (12)

Human parasite: prostitute with hidden agenda.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Obviation (11)

Why blame
a born parasite
its menu?

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Obviation (10)

Midges: ethical midgets.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Self-awareness (2)

How is it that some people are more susceptible to gnats?

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Obviation (9)


As a vestige of its infirmity most,
the parasite hates its former host.

To the next post in the "Obviation" sequence.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Self-awareness (1)

to avoid

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Midlife (15)

Nights are dark and days darker.
Dragging myself through life.
When will I revive?

To the next post in the "midlife" sequence

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Holocaust survivors, second generation (8)

The relationship between the two sisters was tensed for as long as I remember. They even didn’t talk for a while. The contact was renewed only shortly before my mother passed away.

I understood from my cousin that his mother wouldn’t mind telling me about what happened to them in the war, so I decided to call her.

I could almost touch the tension between the two sisters in the intonations of the few polite distant words she spoke. The silences in between were yelling at me; telling me even more. It was if like she was using me to communicate with my mother, as if I had inherited my mother’s role. Then she told me that if she had time she would call me back, and we hung up.

I felt dismissed, abandoned and I cried.

To the next post in the "second generation" sequence

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Jewish conspiracy

Reading this brainsick bozo cheered me up a bit. I seem to be very important.