Yes, I did quote Metallica, and you’ll see why…
This is my family story…
Yesterday before leaving Boca, Casey, my grandma, and I were sitting at the pancake house eating Belgian Waffles. We were done eating, and my grandma went to pay the bill. When she got up, I noticed an elder gentleman sitting at a booth across from us. I saw something on his arm, and I turned to Casey and said, “See that man over there with the numbers on his arm?” He goes yeah. I say, “This man is a Holocaust survivor.” Now, I know I have explained this to him before, because all I talk about is our heritage.
My dear sweet child has a short attention span and forgets quickly. I explained it to him yet again about the horrors of the Holocaust, and how it’s such a shame that there are people out there that live with such hatred. My grandma was agreeing and then she mentions how her father was 33 years old when he was killed. 33????
I’m 33 years old, and I am just NOW starting to live my life. My son is almost grown, and I am going to be the child I never got to be. That’s beside the point. Anyway, that’s a part of my family that I will never get to know. That was taken away from me.
My grandma cannot prove that she was born because all the paperwork in Warsaw was burned. They really wanted to wipe out the existence of Jews. Most of my family are ashamed to being Jewish, but I don’t feel ashamed. Yes, granted, my next door neighbors are anti-Semite’s, but I don’t let that stop me. I have a prayer box hanging on my neck with the Star of David on it. Yes, it is a bit Celtic looking, but that’s what I like about it.
Anyway, I love being with family. We’re not perfect; we get on each others’ nerves. We fight and argue and when the holidays arrive…Whoa! Look out because we are all stressed out over the hoopla over the holidays. But in the end, we are there for each other when needed. No one will ever be there for you more than family, right? Well, let me tell you about a part of my family that wants nothing to do with any of us but to shake my grandma for all she’s worth.
My mom’s sister has been running away from problems since she was 21 years old. She will be 50 in September, and is still running away. Well, I won’t be a yenta and say what happened, let’s just say she got in trouble, and needed help. So my grandma wanted to know what was going on, and so did my mom.
My mom noticed I was friends with her sisters’ daughter here on good old Facebook, and asked me to send her an email asking her what is going on. I figured she wouldn’t know me, so in the message I wrote who I was, and told her I was her cousin. I mentioned that I was her mom’s sister’s daughter. Would you know I got a reply back a month later from her? A month. Here’s where the real kicker comes in.
I’m sitting at an Italian restaurant with my son and my grandma, and my grandma mentions how she wants to go to visit my aunt. She wants to take my mom, but goes if I want to go too I can. I told her to forget about it. I don’t want to go where people don’t know me nor even discuss who the hell I am.
I told my grandma how I sent my cousin an email and she acted like she didn’t even know who I was. My grandma said she didn’t. That she had to ask her mother who I was. I said yeah because it’s hard not understanding it’s from your cousin, right? That just tells me I’m not even a thought in their minds. Why should they be in my thoughts then?
It’s clear to tell when people are ashamed of their family. I say if you’re ashamed of family, then you must be ashamed of yourself. I could be wrong.