Memories from Munich

I received this drawing from my dad last week with the explanation, "Enclosed, memories from Munich 2005. The lions are real and made on me an unforgettable impression."

My dad expects me to write back to him my opinion on each of his drawings. He respects my opinion and often tries to do what I tell him needs fixing. I'm not very good at faking flattery, and I'm often blunt with him.

So here's what I replied with: "Very interesting impression. Are the people real size? They look tiny."

My dad has a very dry sense of humour. He never tries to make anyone laugh. And he hardly laughs himself. But somehow people always end up laughing from what he says. Mostly because it's so ridiculous and outrageous that they can't believe he actually said it. Most people would think it tactless to say what he says. I grew up feeling mostly embarrassed by things he'd say that would make people laugh. I just never thought it was funny. Needless to say, his response to my email caught me off guard.

"You are right. The people were too tiny. I made them to match the height of the doors around, but comparing to lions it didn’t look right. So I raised the doors and enlarged the population a little. The lions are the same, but they have too much fat after consuming all the people, who are already out of my picture. See the corrections."

Memories from China

Every so often my dad catches me off-guard with his emails. This drawing was sent with the explanation "This week's art reflects my memories from a visit to China, so called “Rock forest”."

My parents are leaving for China tomorrow. My dad has never been there. My dad has been displaying signs of Alzheimer's for several years now. These are very preliminary signs, but since his mother had it, we're all familiar with them.

Needless to say, when I read his explanation to this drawing I shook my head in sadness and thought, "he's really lost it."

But being the very critical daughter I am, I emailed him back with "dad, when did you visit China??? This looks like Mars!"

His prompt response said, "It is China, not Mars, and I will prove it to you, when I am back with 1343 shots (2G) I intend to take around."

At this point I felt a little relieved that he hasn't completely lost it, but I still had one question that bothered me, so I emailed him, "Ok, but you said in your email it was MEMORIES of your trip to China, so that's why I asked when were you there."

His answer had me laughing: "My teacher requested me to take an advantage of our long summer holiday and paint my memories from abroad. Which I did... However, our return from China is scheduled one week after the beginning of a new academic year, one day before a second lesson, which I have to attend. There will be no time for any painting involving China. So, I intend to prepare in advance my future memories from various spots in China."


Did I ever mention how my father used to teach me methods to cheat on exams in school? My father is the master of cheating. He devised the most cunning ways of cheating on exams and it would always amaze me the length he'd go to cheat even in adulthood. As a smoker he was allowed to bring a matchbox and a box of cigarettes into exams at the university. He took a small matchbox, emptied out the matches, put two matches perpendicular inside the box at both ends, placed a tiny scroll of paper around each match, then cut out a tiny window on the face of the matchbox. When he rolled the one match the scroll of paper would roll over from the one match to the other, and the tiny handwriting would show up on the cut out window to give him the next hint for the exam.

In fact, my parents met because of his cheating habits. They went to the same school together in Poland and my mom knew he cheated on all the exams. So one day she's had enough of him in high school and went to the school's principal to complain about my dad cheating on the exams. The rest is history. They lived happily ever after. Well, okay, except for the cheating. My mother never tolerated that part in his life. I took after my mother.

An email exchange with my father

Before you read the email exchange below I think I should clarify that my parents have been married for 48 years. In my family's circle everyone knows who is my father since we're so much alike, but there is serious doubt about who is my mother. The only proof she has is that she was in the hospital that day.


Date: Aug 9, 2007 10:50 AM
Subject: Art connected with Poland (cont.)
"Mybrid,"
This is connected with a huge shopping mall in Warsaw (designed and built by Israeli contractor). In nature, the fish is not a part of it.
Love,
Dad

Date: Aug 9, 2007 1:13 PM
Subject: Re: Art connected with Poland (cont.)

Dad,

This is DEFINITELY one of your most interesting pieces of art!!! I really like it. It's asymmetrical and makes the eye stay around to look at the details and figure out what's going on. It's not as "clear" to immediately understand what it is. Makes the brain work.

Love,

"Mybrid"

Date: Aug 9, 2007 2:07 PM
Subject: RE: Art connected with Poland (cont.)

"Mybrid,"

I value your opinion very high. You said exactly the same what I said when I finished the work, contrary to my wife. Obviously, one can not expect any intelligent comment from a person, who has no taste, nor satisfactory educational background in art.

Love,

Dad

Date: Aug 9, 2007 3:11 PM
Subject: Re: Art connected with Poland (cont.)

Dad,

Your wife doesn't have the same taste and appreciation of surrealistic art as we do. Sometimes I do wonder why you married her. ;-)

"Mybrid"

Date: Aug 9, 2007 3:52 PM
Subject: RE: Art connected with Poland (cont.)

I also wonder...

He's like a son to me

The photo below was taken this week in Eilat, Israel. The Red Sea in the background. This is my favourite nephew in the world. I love this kid to death and would drop everything in the world if he ever asked me to. He's like my own son and everyone in the family knows how I feel about him.

The "kid" you see here (he turns 18 in two months), has a heart of gold. He's the most popular in his school, has the highest grades at his school, and was recently invited for the most elite brainy unit in the IDF - a unit that only takes the brightest soldiers with the highest exam scores in the country. Last week he completed a training course to become a scout leader in Israel (our scouts are co-ed and VERY different from the American scouts). This was at the request of younger kids who love him and wanted him to be their leader.

But what amazes me most about him is that he's six years older than his younger brother and unlike his father (my brother) has not teased him or hit him in his entire life. He showers him with hugs and love. Always there for him. He's the most amazing older brother I've ever seen in a family. Whenever I see the three of them together I'm blown away by how well they get along and enjoy each other's company. They always find things to do together and they have a ton of fun doing it.

Every time someone tells me about something he's done or a demonstration he's attended, I just want to go over and give him a hug for being the most wonderful person I know. The last demonstration he's attended - he drove all the way to Tel Aviv to join a mass protest against the government's mistreatment of Holocaust Survivors living in poverty. To remind everyone, Holocaust Survivors in Israel are in their 70's, 80's and 90's. And here's a young 17 year old who cares about them!

My favourite children on earth

I love seeing them grow. These are the most amazing kids in the world. And I'm not saying this because I'm related to them, but because apparently everyone else thinks this, too.

The two eldest graduated this year with exceptional honors at the top of their class. The eldest is also the most popular in the entire school and is the center of attention everywhere he goes. The youngest is rapidly becoming the social butterfly that attracts girlfriends left and right.

Every time I get their photos, like these, I just want to hop on a plane and go back home to hug them and never leave again! I just love them to pieces. But what really kills me inside is knowing that next year, the eldest one, my favourite kid in the entire world - is joining the army. I just can't believe it. Nor can I let him go. He's just a kid. No one can deny it when looking at his photo. This kid is turning 18 in two months! Why do they grow so fast? Why?

The amazing internet and a stunning discovery

Those of you who have been following my blog at least since January this year, have read my post about the Holocaust and how my grandmother survived. If you didn't catch that post, here's where you can read about it.

Some of you may not have gotten as far as the comments, but last month (that is five months after I posted about my grandmother), someone posted a comment on that post. And that is what prompted me to post an urgent request to the anonymous writer of that comment to email me immediately.

No where in my post did I mention my grandmother's first name. I only mentioned her last name and how she got it. And here was this comment written by someone in Colorado who knew my grandmother's full name - Maria Kozdrowicz. The comment shocked me.

I immediately went on eBay and put in the number mentioned and got the shock of my life. There it was - my grandmother's Polish Passport for sale on eBay!

I had never seen her passport before. Nor have my parents! I immediately called them while they were away from home on vacation and asked them if they know where her passport is. They had no idea, they've never seen it. When I told them the story they couldn't believe me. I told them it had her photo, her birthdate, her place of birth, and all the right stamps.

The seller was someone in my hometown of Haifa. A name we've never heard of. Because we were really worried about raising any alarms to him that would cause him to raise the price, I ended up buying the passport for the $45 he placed on it.

I received it this week. A piece of family history is now in my hands again. Along with a very important date stamp which my parents had forgotten - August 25th, 1957. The day they got off the boat in Haifa, Israel. The boat from Europe to Israel, finally making it back home after 2000 years in the diaspora. In two months they'll be celebrating 50 years in Israel.

The person who sold this passport did not answer any of my inquiries of how he got it. He's ignored my emails and requests. I will try one more snail mail effort before giving up.

If he knew the entire story behind this passport and the fake name on it, he would have asked for more money or donated to a museum. There's more to my grandmother's story than what I wrote. In June 1976, my grandmother's brother got on a flight from Tel Aviv to Paris. Yes, it was that flight. My great uncle was one of the hostages. That's an entire post in itself.
My grandmother's other brother received a medal of honour from General de Gaulle. Yes, another entry for a post. A third brother wrote a book about his survival at a Ghetto as a doctor, a book that I read once and will never forget (unlike hundreds of other books).

This grandmother is the mother of the painter whose paintings you've been seeing on this blog. And yes, she's the one with the talent and where it all came from.

I have the passport with me now. But how do I thank an Anonymous writer? How can I ever thank him for doing a random search on Google for my grandmother's name and coming across my blog and being gracious enough to put a comment? How do I tell him that he stumbled upon one of those fascinating stories and not just a passport for sale? How do I tell him that he helped a family close a chapter in its history?


My grandmother passed away almost ten years ago, of Alzheimers. May she rest in peace and may her life's memory live forever on this blog.

Happy Purim 2007!

Purim begins on Sunday. It's a 3 day holiday when Jews dress up in costumes to commemorate another one of our victories over the antisemites.

My favourite nephew is 17 years old. And sometimes I think it's best not to explain anything further.

And yes, they did win first place in the costume competition of their high school.