Eavesdropping on Mom
On Tuesday, I eavesdropped on my Mother speaking to about 50 Gothamites and guests at the Friar's Club about her experiences as a Holocaust survivor. I say "eavesdrop" somewhat in jest, because I was in the audience and in plain sight.
No matter how many times I have heard the stories, there is always something new. Perhaps I have heard it before but at this hearing it has a different nuance or meaning to me. Flo has a theory that every time my Mother speaks, she recalls something that she never remembered before. Those who heard my Mother on Tuesday will recall that she mentioned a German soldier who, after the war, crossed her path, unarmed and in retreat, and gave her a piece of bread. On Tuesday, my Mother told me that she had never recalled that incident until she was speaking earlier that afternoon.
Getting back to my feeling that I was eavesdropping: There's a difference in hearing my Mother speak to others. Perhaps because she is my Mother, my sense is that she still tries to protect me when I ask and she tells me the stories directly. Still the son (and that makes me smile). When I eavesdrop, I get a different perspective. I also put myself in the shoes of not being her son. I listen, with others, to a history that is not necessarily part of my own (although, in a sense, there is no escaping that it is a fundamental part of my being).
So, thanks Mom...and Gotham...for letting me eavesdrop

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I knew (unfortunately past tense) a few survivors, but they never wanted to talk about their experiences. My Aunt Dottie's fifth(!) husband escaped from a concentration camp and joined the partisans in the forest. Said he killed a bunch of German soldiers, and I believe him.
Your mother's talk (testimony?) was eloquent and moving. And what impacted me most, I think, is her saying that it was in God's plan to have her survive and tell (warn?) future generations what she experienced.
My wife's families (German and Dutch) were able to escape from Holland to Argentina in 1941 and 1942, and they were relatively unscathed. But still... No German cars, no German anything. My mother-in-law wouldn't even RIDE in a German car.
We went to Berlin this past August, and to my greatest surprise, my wife started speaking fluent German. I said, "you never spoke it before," and she replied, "Of course I speak the language. I heard it all my life. I just never wanted to speak it."
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