and whispered in the sounds of silence...

memorial day...a day, that sadly, has become another footnote in our yearly sport of shopping...searching for bargains for things we don't need...the unofficial start of summer...this year, so many bundled on beaches under threatening skies and misty rain...but in our increasingly violent and heartless world...maybe it is time to remember what the day is about...men and women who fought for our country...in wars of unfortunate necessity...in wars of mistaken judgement...where the ordinary man fought in dire, extraordinary circumstances...and returned to a country that was turned upside down...many of you may read this and will remember the wars of your youth...and shake your head in anger with the realization that each generation seems to have a turn...so before those younger...for whom the word draft is only a beer...those who, in their fear and anger, chant "fight them, kill them, obliterate them"...let's put aside politics and  show them...stroll the endless rows at Pinelawn...Calverton...and in cemeteries across this vast country, and every corner of the globe...and just pause...and take in the cost...the loss...say thank you...whisper I ache for your suffering...and on memorial day, remember the eloquent lyrics, "find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground, mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down"...and bow, and say amen...

oh, rumania, rumania....

may 10th...my grandfather, Louis, would have been 113 today, my grandmother, Bella, 107...same birthday...grew up in the same village...in the same country, what was Roumania...now, possibly Moldova...but they met here...in New York...I often think of them, and on this date especially...memories, so strong...Friday nights...if I close my eyes, I am in their apartment...and because they lived in the same building as Bella's sister, Ida...well, you never knew who would show up...all of us crammed into that kitchen...a piece of mandel bread, a cup of coffee, or glass of milk...laughter pouring onto Kings Highway...and oh my "Poppy"...driving my "Nanny" crazy...his fist knocking under the table...Nanny going to the door...no one there...that glare and then, hands on hips, "Mister"...he would giggle...she would smile...then Passover...tables of relatives, angled every which way...cousins running up and down the hallway...the joy in watching my Poppy sing with his brothers-in-law...my Nanny, yelling "sha"...we would stop in our tracks...and start up again the minute she turned around...years later, they stayed with us in Staten Island...watching me and my brother, David, while my parents vacationed...Nanny cooking up a storm, Poppy listening to the radio, our cat, Blackie, stretched out in delight at their feet...my good fortune to have them with me at high school graduation...to celebrate college graduation...to have my Nanny walk down the aisle at my wedding...to give birth to my daughter, Lauren, six years later to the date my Poppy passed...and then to give her his name...and, oh, so much more...because on this date...as I remember...I am no longer someone on the other side of fifty...I am a young girl once more...delighting in the love and wonder of her grandparents...the traditions which were as simple as breathing...the Yiddish I strained to comprehend...which always reminds me of that album my Dad would play..."Sing Along in Yiddish"...ah yes, "Rumania, Rumania"...the blessings of memory carry you forward...Happy Birthday, Bella and Louis!