Wednesday, November 26, 2014

If it wasn't luck, what was the right word?

      In telling the story of her life and her experience as a Holocaust prisoner/survivor, my mother -- Rose Van Thyn -- was a prolific writer and speaker. She wrote thousands of words in stories and poems, spoke thousands in her presentations as a Holocaust educator.
      Here's one thought that sticks with me. She wrote this in a short piece dated January 1991 entitled "I Found a Silver Lining":
      "People tell me I was lucky. That is not really the word. Lucky is when you win a lottery. I did not win anything. I was given something, the most precious gift, a second chance on life."
     Five years later, when she did her interview for the USC Shoah Foundation (thousands of Holocaust survivors did similar interviews), she included the same thought:
Rose Van Thyn felt that her "mission" was to educate
people, especially students, about the Holocaust.
      "... I know people that said to me, 'You're so lucky you came back.' I say you don't call that lucky. I don't think that's lucky. I said lucky is when you win the lottery, not when you come out of the concentration camp. You can't call that lucky. This is more than lucky. I can't find the right word for it exactly.
     "But I don't call it lucky because always if you're lucky you're completely happy. Although we are very blessed, and I'm very happy about that, I still have a background which never leaves me, which is with me. I always said, when people say, oh, we are free, I'm never going to be free completely. I'm never going to be free because I always have 6 million people I talk for."
      My observation: If it wasn't luck, what was it? What was the right word (or words)?
      I'll go with "good fortune" and "strong will" or "determination." But, dang, luck did have a lot to do with it. (More on that in a moment).
      I wasn't there, of course; I'm a second-generation observer, the son of two Holocaust survivors. I have spent time the past couple of years reading the material written by my mother and written by others on my parents, and listening to the recorded versions of their Shoah Foundation interviews.
      So who am I to argue with my mother? Did I dare question her? Well, I am my mother's son.
      She's no longer here to argue with, but I can assure you: Few people "won" an argument with my mother.
       She was fiercely proud of her viewpoint, no matter what the subject. But when it came to the Holocaust, she spoke with even more conviction than on other matters.
       She took herself seriously, but then the Holocaust was a most serious subject. Yet my mother, who could be funny (sometimes wickedly so) usually worked a little humor into her talks and writing.
       -- About the "meals" the Nazis/Germans provided to the women prisoners in Block Ten at Auschwitz: " ... We got one slice of bread and a little thing of what they called soup -- I called it mud, but I always said if you're hungry enough, you eat mud."
       -- About the work commando she was in, assigned to pick blackberry leaves, peppermint leaves, mushrooms (which, when dried, were made into medicine for the German soldiers)  ... "To be honest, we tried to pick poison mushrooms."
        -- When people asked her if she had seen Schindler's List (which she said was "one of the best movies I've seen"), she would answer, "I lived it."
          Back to the "luck" factor. She survived the "selections" -- the Nazis picked out men and women to work in the camps, but many or most ill prisoners and children were sent straight to the gas chambers shortly after their arrival, including -- as my mother would learn later -- her mother and sister.
           She evaded the Nazis' random shooting of people, in Amsterdam after the occupation in May 1940 through the curfews imposed, and then at Auschwitz and later on the "Death March," shootings for any transgression a German soldier might deem worthy of extermination.
            She was small enough to climb onto the top bunk of a three-layer bed, out of range from the attack dogs the sadistic Nazi women guards would turn on the prisoners at times.
           She survived the medical experiments done on her in Block Ten -- hundreds of shots in her chest and further down, with no telling what. She was among the fortunate women who were told they had been sterilized, but instead found after the war that they still could have children.
           She survived almost a year in a transit camp, then 16 months in Auschwitz, then four months of the "Death March" -- walking hundreds of miles in the brutal German winter, with little clothing, walking -- as my mother described it -- in lieu of shoes on pieces of wood tied to her feet with strings.
           There was even more brutality from the Nazis' SS guards, who must have known the war was going to be a lost cause for Germany. If people stopped walking because of fatigue or lack of strength -- there was very little to eat for months -- they often were shot. Many starved to death.
            She survived. And, as you and I might wonder, how? How?
            "I think God wanted me to live," she said in her USC Shoah Foundation interview. "I had the support of first, three other women, and then nine other women, and I really don't know if each of us would have made it without each other."
           "And I guess the will to live and I think my upbringing had to do with it. My father and my mother both had very strong personalities. And I guess it was the will to live. There is really no rational explanation why I came back and 6 million others who were probably better than I was didn't come back."
           She talked, too, of religion.
          "When I went to Auschwitz, I wasn't religious because I wasn't brought up religious," she said. "I prayed more in 2 1/2 years in concentration camps than I had prayed in 21 years before. I talked to God a lot, and there were times that I asked God to let me die, and there were times that I asked God to let me live because I really wanted to live."                       
           In the last 25 years of her life, she honored her survival by telling her story to thousands of people.
            "I really feel I have a mission, that I was saved," she told the interviewer. "I have a mission to fulfill to not only young people, but it's amazing how many people I talk to my age who were not well informed about the Holocaust."
            She would inform them, and I can say that her mission was accomplished.       
            I have been researching the material on my mother because I intend to write several blog pieces on her, as a follow-up to the 35-chapter series I did on my father and his life/Holocaust story.
          What I write on Mom won't be as extensive as Dad's story because much of Mom's story has been printed previously. But there are some compelling stories that should be shared. I'm lucky to be able to do it.

Giving thanks ... 30 times

      Our daughter, and many others, are doing their "30 days of thanksgiving" this month on Facebook.
      At both early Thanksgiving meals we have been a part of, with more to come this week, those at the party shared their particular thanks with the group.
Our No. 1 item on this year's list of thanks:
two-month-old grandson Eli Smith
      Instead of going day-to-day with my thanks on Facebook, I will pack them all into this Thanksgiving week piece. But after I began writing this, hell broke loose in Missouri and other parts of the country and there's no thanks for that. It's distressing and disheartening, and I fervently hope this country can find resolution and peace in its many conflicts.
      On to what I think are more pleasant thoughts. Here are my 30 days worth of thanks in one quick read ...
      1. Start with Bea's thought at the early Shaw Family Thanksgiving meal a week ago deep in the woods of central Texas: Thanks for our beautiful two-month grandson, Eli Smith.
      2. Here's what I added to that: Thanks for Eli and the other three grandchildren -- Josie, Jacob and Kaden.
      Those are easy; those are our greatest blessings. But we should extend it. So ...
      3, Thanks for our kids and our in-law kids -- all smart, talented and motivated. We cherish them.
      4. Thanks for extended family, the longtime ties, spread from Texas to Louisiana to Georgia, Florida, Oregon and New Jersey -- the Shaws, the Chastains, the Woodards, the Wellens, the Brunos.
      5. Thanks for our lives in Fort Worth, the best place of the eight to 10 either Bea or I or both of us have lived, and that includes some places we enjoyed a great deal. But Fort Worth feels like home.
      6. Thanks for our grocery stores -- and with some exceptions -- our Monday-morning shopping routine. We do eat well, and try to eat smart. But ...
      7. Thanks for chocolate. Hard to resist, but we do try to indulge in moderation and we've turned to dark chocolate, which we've read is better than milk chocolate.
      8. Thanks for fruit. We like all sorts; the variety is a healthy plus.
      9. Thanks for the exercise routines, which are intended to offset those occasions when we do eat too much or not healthy enough.
      10. Thanks for the freedom we have to make trips we want whenever we want to or need to, and for the means to do so.
      11. Thanks for the social media outlets we've learned to use. We don't post as often on Facebook and/or Twitter as many people, but we like most (but not all) of what we see there.
      12. In the social-media realm, thanks for Bea's I-Pad, especially the Facetime app, which allows us to talk face-to-face with Rachel, Josie and Eli.      
       13. Thanks for the policemen, firemen and military personnel who serve our cities, towns and country. Tough jobs, lots of danger, lots of scrutiny. We should not take these people for granted.
       14. Thanks for YouTube, which -- with its thousands of videos -- can keep me entertained for hours with music, Johnny Carson clips and sports highlights.
       15. Thanks for books (the print kind and audio versions) and magazines. Reading remains one of our favorite hobbies.
        16. Related to the books, thanks for the Fort Worth Library, which is where we also find the jazz concert series and the First Sunday classic movies.
       16. Thanks for the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra's pops concert series. Great entertainment at a venue we love, Bass Hall in downtown.
       17. Thanks for the sports teams I love to follow. Watching the games can be exhilarating or agonizing, but there's few things that I would rather do. It's been that way for, oh, 60 years.
       18. Thanks that my TV does not carry live NFL games. Can't do it any more. I can handle the recorded Cowboys games; I'm a lot more relaxed that way (even when I don't know the result). Don't care enough about the rest of the league.
        19. Thanks for baseball, the sport I love most. Soccer (voetbal in Holland) was my first love, and I always enjoyed basketball and football, but it's baseball that I still find most interesting. Wish they'd play faster, but I love the strategy and the player transactions. However, my nephew will tell you that I am not into sabermetrics.
        20. Thanks (again) for Mariano Rivera and Derek Jeter, whose class and character will have Yankees fans headed for the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., in 2019 and 2020.
       21. Thanks for newspapers, diminished as they might be. They're still keeping some of my friends employed.
       22.  Thanks for photos, especially the digital kind, which are easier to manage than the hundreds of photos we have in albums and envelopes in one of our cabinets.
       23. Thanks for some of the smart people we see on television -- Charlie Rose, David Brooks, Bill Moyers, the whole crew on the PBS NewsHour, and locally on KERA, Lee Cullum.
       24. Thanks for the late, great funniest people I can remember -- George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Robin Williams and Carnac the Magnificent.
       25. Thanks for Dancing With The Stars, which has been one of our favorite shows for eight years. That might surprise you, but I think it's an entertaining and creative show. Very happy that Alfonso Ribeiro Jr. (and "The Carlton") won the Season 19 championship -- as I predicted after the first week of the season -- but he had to beat one of the strongest group of finalists in the show's history.
       26. Thanks for our politicians because ... ah, never mind. Seriously, there are so many with good intentions, with compassion, with good ideas. We need them to lead with less conflict ... is that even possible?
       27. Thanks for our friends, especially the close ones we've had for decades with Louisiana ties. But also many more from Louisiana, the ones in Holland and Florida, Hawaii, Tennessee and most recently Texas, and also the additions on Facebook, including voices and faces from the past.
      28. Thanks for this country. Yes, we have a lot of diversity and a lot of diverse viewpoints and contentiousness, but it's still the greatest place to be. Much as I love The Netherlands, I prefer to live here ... and, well, the most important people in my life (see items 1-2-3-4) are here.
      29. Thanks for Beatrice, who knows me so well and adds wisdom and clarity -- and so many other things -- to our family as a wife, mother, aunt and Granny.
      30. Thank God for our lives. Might be difficult times, but life also is a beautiful thing.
      Happy Thanksgiving. (And for my old friends in Shreveport, what time does the Byrd-Fair Park game kick off Thursday at State Fair Stadium?)

Friday, November 14, 2014

Picking a Final Four ... all just anyone's opinion

        I feel compelled and somewhat motivated to write about a matter of national importance.
The new national-championship trophy, the
College Football Playoff payoff. (Actually,
I liked the BCS crystal ball football.)
      I like the College Football Playoff. There, I said it.
      It is so important. I have seen so much written about it for months and months, and have (not) heard so much said about it (because I try to avoid all the sports talk shows, except son-in-law's when I'm in Knoxville). And the interest is only ramping up day by day.
      Who's in (thank you, ESPN).
      Who will be in the first-ever Final Four -- the two semifinal bowl games, with the winners playing for the national championship right down the road from here (Fort Worth) at Cowboys Stadium, JerryWorld or whatever they call it?
      I am not here to debate the Final Four rankings -- the TCU or Baylor question, the Oregon-jumping-Florida State issue, the Alabama in-or-out talk, the what-about-Ohio State/Arizona State speculation.
      I will leave the debates to (1) all my media friends and (2) more importantly, the committee. (More on the committee below.)
      But this CFP is important enough to bring in a former U.S. Secretary of State to help settle matters. It is more important than which party is running Congress, than U.S.-China relations, the fight with ISIS, Russia-Ukraine, the Middle East's never-ending conflicts, immigration reform, gun rights, tax reform. It's more important than the New York Yankees' off-season roster moves; it's even more important than the frickin' Super Bowl.
       That's right.
       I purposely have avoided writing about this, or speculating about it, or talking all that much about it because I figure there is enough of that on TV, radio and the Internet.
       But, really, I love the idea because I love college football -- and the idea of one true national champion, decided on the field after a playoff game or three playoff games is perfect. Beats the heck out of "mythical national champion."
       Here is the gist of this piece, though: There is no perfect selection system. OK, you got that? As long as the human element is part of the selection process, it won't be perfect.
       But humans -- a committee of 12 people deciding the Final Four teams -- is a helluva lot better than computer-based selections (uh, humans do input the info into the computers, don't they?).
       So scrapping the Bowl Championship Series (BCS) system, with its computer rankings as part of the process, was fine with me. I'm glad the bowl-game honchos -- who have had so much control and so much financial clout -- for years and years are willing to play along with the CFP.
        So why am I writing about this now, what prompted me to force my opinion on you? Because there are stories and talk shows all over the place concerning this, and I want to get my two cents in. Because, in my extensive research for this piece, I came across -- on Facebook and AOL search -- two columns by sportswriters who I know and respect and whose work I admire.
         And they are both blasting the College Football Playoff system, and even embracing the much-criticized BCS.
         Matt Hayes, who writes college football for Sporting News and, in my opinion, knows as much about it as anyone and writes it as well as anyone, began his professional career as a prep writer at The Florida Times-Union where he was regularly and enthusiastically advised -- maybe that should read "chewed out" -- by a prep sports editor. Hmmmm.
         This week, Matt wrote: "The best part of this now-spectacular mess is this new, everything-will-be-better playoff is no better than the BCS. In fact, three polls in, it’s mirroring the most controversial product ever used by the sport."
         David Climer is the talented, very readable veteran sports columnist for The (Nashville) Tennessean. He wrote: "Looks like the BCS formula was less flawed than the current committee structure."
         Look, those are one-paragraph items lifted from a whole column, and I'm certainly not picking on Matt or David because there are hundreds of stories/columns/talk-show debates of the same nature.
        Here is what I am saying: What did they expect?
        There is always going to be controversy on NCAA playoff selections or polls/rankings, no matter what sport. There always has been. It's not perfection; it's just subjective.
       The biggest problem I have with the new College Football Playoff system is that I think they should have started with a Final Eight -- four quarterfinal games, two semifinals, one title game. Picking eight teams rather than four might've eliminated a lot of this BS speculation.
        If eight teams were picked, you think the teams left out -- say, the Nos. 9-10-11-12 teams -- wouldn't feel slighted?
         Look at the NCAA men's basketball tournament. There are 68 teams in it now, and every year several teams not selected are unhappy (SMU, for instance, last season). Every year there are debates on the No. 1 seeds. And I can remember when only 24 teams were selected, and then only 32, and there were no seedings.
          Picking a Final Four this season is so much better than the BCS' final two.
          Southern Cal thought it should have been in the national title game in 2003 (LSU was fortunate to be chosen, through the BCS system, to face Oklahoma). Auburn was the undefeated team left out in 2004. TCU and Boise State, both unbeaten and both in "minor" conferences, had to settle for a Fiesta Bowl matchup in 2009.
           And the worst BCS finalist ever was Nebraska in 2001. It didn't even make the Big 12 Conference championship game, having lost to Colorado 62-36 in its 12th game of the season. But a few weeks later it was playing Miami in the BCS title game. That was absurd.
            LSU, of course, was quite fortunate to be in the 2007 season BCS title game. It took final regular-season losses by Missouri and West Virginia to give the Tigers a reprieve. But, no apologies; that was a great Tigers team, which lost twice in triple overtime. If they'd been picking a Final Four that year, LSU would've been one of the teams.
             There is lots of criteria for the College Football Playoff committee to consider, and I hope one thing it can avoid in a Final Four is a repeat of a regular-season matchup.
              In 1996, Florida State beat Florida 24-21 to end the regular season, but the then-Bowl Alliance had them matched up again in the Sugar Bowl (designated as the national championship game). Florida won the rematch 52-20.
             More significantly for me, LSU won on Alabama's field 9-6 in overtime in the classic 2011 showdown and unbeaten LSU won the SEC title while Alabama watched. But the BCS system had them rematched in the national-title game. We know how that came out. Am I bitter about LSU having to replay a team it had beaten on the road? You bet.
              I almost never look at the college football rankings; the rankings don't matter when teams line up to play.
              I have not watched the College Football Playoff show revealing the committee's rankings the past three weeks. I never read one of the preseason and regular-season Final Four speculation stories. My writing buddy Teddy Allen points out all this was "interesting, but not significant."
              But Teddy and I agree that late in the season -- and from this point -- the CFP rankings do matter. I'd be a lot more interested if LSU was in contention. It's not. And it lost its final chance to be a "spoiler" when it let the game with Alabama slip away, despite a great effort, last Saturday.
              No question, though, the CFP and the rankings make for great interest, give the media great fodder. It helps make college football important to millions of people.
              I have no problem with the 13 people selected for the CFP committee, not even with Condoleezza Rice being a member. They're all very qualified, in my opinion, and very willing. Too bad that Archie Manning had to withdraw because of physical woes because few people love college football more and know more about it.
              About Condoleezza: We've all seen the criticism that she "doesn't know football." Such bull. She as smart as anyone on that committee, smarter probably, and more studied. Uh, she's dealt with more serious issues, OK. Sure, she might have a Stanford bias, but I think her opinion on college football (and most things) is to be valued.
                Here is what I'll remind you: For decades and decades, the "mythical" national champion was decided by (1) The Associated Press poll, which means 25 or 35 or whatever the number of media members -- writers and broadcasters -- or by (2) the coaches' poll; football coaches who might have had a bias for their own team or against another coach's team for one reason or another.
                I've been in a group of 25-35 sports media types. Ask them to rank, say, the best college football teams from 1 to 25 ... and you might have 25-35 different rankings. Never seen a media group -- two people or 50 -- who agree on all that much.
              (I'm just thinking -- suppose the committee consisted of Mitch McConnell, Harry Reid, John Boehner, Nancy Pelosi, Kevin McCarthy, Steny Hoyer, Ted Cruz, Dick Durbin, John McCain, John Cornyn, Elizabeth Warren and Carl Levin. Think they could decide anything with a consensus?)
               Politics, sports ... it's the human element; it's just people's opinion. It's not perfect; it's never been perfect. It never will be.
                 There is much more that can happen in these last few weeks of the regular season (and conference championship games). Hey, I think Mississippi State, Florida State, Oregon and TCU belong in the Final Four right now. That's just me. Next week I might think it's Alabama, Baylor, Arizona State and Ohio State.
                They didn't ask me to be on the committee. But I'm not going to spend much time trying to figure out what the committee has to figure out, and I'm not going to spend time criticizing what they do. I'll leave that to my media friends ... and to you. Good luck.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

My mother appreciated Veterans' Day

    "I knew I wanted to go with the wonderful Americans."
       -- Rose Van Thyn, near the conclusion of her USC Shoah Foundation interview, October 1996

Rose Van Thyn, during her 1996 USC Shoah Foundation
interview, telling her Holocaust story
      My mother, who was as patriotic as any naturalized citizen could be, loved the United States Army and was forever grateful for it.
      Veterans' Day is an appropriate time to remember that, to remember how fond she was of the way the American military took in the bedraggled Holocaust survivors wandering in the woods of Germany near the end of World War II.
       Actually, it was the Russian military which first reached my mother and some two dozen other women who had been prisoners in the Nazi work and concentration camps.
        By then, the women were sick and starving and yet somehow had survived more than two months of the infamous "Death March" through southern Poland and eastern Germany. And this was after, in my mother's case, 16 months in the infamous Auschwitz-Birkenau camp and then an even more cruel, harrowing stay in Ravensbruck -- the largest women's-only concentration camp.
        The Russians -- the Red Army -- came to the rescue, but it was the Americans that gave the women hope.
        In her USC Shoah Foundation interview, my mother covers many of the gory details of the "Death March," which she said began for her on Jan. 18, 1945, when the Nazis -- knowing the Allied troops were advancing from the west and the Russians from the east -- abandoned the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp.
       As my mother recalled, the original group of about 800 prisoners who began the march, was down to a couple dozen. But that, fortunately for Mom, included 10 women from The Netherlands who had stuck together through Auschwitz and all the subsequent adventures.
       People had died of starvation, or had been shot because they could walk no farther, or died of illness, or froze to death (this was in the middle of winter in Germany and no one had much clothing) or were among those the Nazis threw into a tent filled with ice-cold water and drowned. (Mom and others could hear their screams.)
        After days and days of walking, they were at Malchow, which was an extension of the Ravensbruck camp.              
        "... It was the beginning of March and the sun was out and at Malchov we got a rest, we didn't need to do anything," my mother said in her interview. "We sat in front of the barracks in the sun. Don't know how long we were there [but] people were dying of starvation ... It was bad."
        Then it was another walk -- "it was slower and slower, and more people died. They would let us rest, an hour or so, people would get up and they would be shot. You never knew," Mom recalled.         
          And then another train ride to a town in the middle of Germany. (She referred to it as Talken, but looking at a German map, that is much farther north and west of  where she wound up. She might be referring to Torgau, which is where the Allied forces and Russian Red Army first met.)
          "Every day we marched for an hour around this square," Mom said. "I guess they prepared us for what was ahead of us."
          They left there April 13, then "walked in a circle for 14 days between Leipzig and Dresden, crossed the Elbe (by ferry) ... There were thousands of people [in the area]. We heard screaming. We didn't know, but we assumed that they were throwing people into the Elbe. When we crossed, we very scared that this was it."
           During their walks, she said they were shot at constantly from the air by Russian, German and even Allied pilots.
            Then, on a Thursday morning, a huge surprise.
            "They [the Nazis] gave us permission to sit down," Mom said. "We were all so hungry by then. We found the hide of a horse they must've slaughtered and we tore it up and had a piece of the hide and chewed on it." There was a little ditch from which they drew water to drink. And suddenly, "the Germans told us they were leaving us."
           This was in "what you called no-man's land. [But] nobody got up because we had learned already [not to assume safety]. ... We sat there for a long time because in the first place, we were so weak and we were so scared. But we had made it that far. We finally got up, the 10 of us, and we started walking, very, very slowly."
           The odd thing was that many of the SS guards, having given up and given them their freedom, "just sat in the grass and were waving at us."
           They came to a village and "we saw white flags. That's when we knew the war was over for us. It was April 26, a Thursday."
            They found a place to stay, at a farm. "The farmer was an old man, at least 70," my mother recalled, "and he allowed us to sleep in the hayloft. He cooked for us -- pea soup. Hadn't eaten [real food] in months and he fed us pea soup. He was German, but he was anti-Hitler. We didn't know and we didn't care as long as he fed us."
            Finally, the Russian Army caught up with the group and directed the women to a nearby town where the army was based, put them in a building to rest up. But as my mother said, "There was no organization, no Red Cross, no nothing, no place to sleep. We slept outside [and] we begged for food." 
            There was one other problem. "We had to play hide-and-seek with the Russian soldiers because they were after us (for sex)," Mom recalled.
            This was a town divided by a bridge -- the Russians were on one side, the Americans on the other side. Trouble was, the Russians wouldn't let the Dutch women cross the bridge.
             One of my mother's group, "Treess," could speak some Russian because her grandmother had been from Russia before the family moved to Holland. Treess went to the Russian officer in charge several days in a row looking for permission for the group to cross the bridge. He wouldn't relent and finally threatened her safety.
             "An American officer came in while Treess was there," Mom said. "Captain Lee. He followed her outside and asked if there was a problem." She explained the situation and "he told her to come to bridge at 2 p.m. and 'I'll make sure that you go over the bridge.'
             "I don't know what he did, and there were thousands of people who wanted to go over the bridge, and here we are, the 10 of us going over the bridge [at 2 p.m.]."
             That included one woman who had typhoid fever, "but we schleped her with us, took her along," Mom said. "We just couldn't leave her. To come that far, I mean, we had to take her."
             Now, the most beautiful part of the story.
             My mother, in her interview, is at times somber, and matter-of-fact, and emotional when talking about family, but when she talks about the American army, she is joyful.
              "So when we came to the other side, the Americans were waiting for us and, I tell you, it was unbelievable," she said. "They were so wonderful to us ... They gave us all the tender loving care, they were good to us. Nobody had said a good word to us for three years.
             "They took us to hospital, gave us examination from tip of our toes to our head -- I never had an examination like that again. My weight was 65 pounds and I was already free for a few weeks. ... We wanted to go back to Holland, but borders were closed because of all the diseases and the western part of Holland had suffered very much, people died in Amsterdam of hunger in the street."
             So the women were put up in a displaced persons camp for three days, in between Leipzig and Dresden ... (perhaps at Magdeburg).
             "There were all kinds of survivors, all nationalities," Mom said. "After three days, some Americans came in there with jeeps. ... We were sitting on a bench, all of us [and] he  stopped  and asked what nationally we were. One Dutch officer was in the jeep and we said Dutch.
           "[The American officer] knew the borders of Holland were closed and that we had to stay in Germany for a while and he said, 'Would you be willing to work in the officers' mess of the 69th Infantry Division?' We said, 'Of course; that is just what we needed -- food.'
           "And they put us up in two houses where Germans had lived. And I never forget, the first morning we came in this officers' mess to work and they fed us breakfast first. And we got each a stack of pancakes with scrambled eggs and each of us had three pancakes and they asked if we wanted some more and we all said yes. And more and more officers came in because they'd never seen women eating like that.
           "Then we went into the kitchen after we ate -- I think we all had nine or 10 pancakes, which was really very dangerous because there were people who started eating right after they were liberated and died because our bodies weren't used to food -- and, I never forget, we went in the kitchen and they were cutting bread, white bread, and they were cutting the crust off and they were throwing the crust in the garbage can. We thought it was criminal."
              The goodness continued.
              "I mean, it was just unbelievable. They were so good to us," Mom continued. "They took us to Leipzig and there was one department store, C and A, it was called, and it was still open, and we needed some clothes because we had nothing, and the clothes we had were full of lice because in Auschwitz there were clothes lice, head lice, all kinds of lice. And so they bought us dresses and they bought us, I never forget, blue raincoats and shoes and socks, and they were wonderful to us, they were just great."
             Eventually, the borders opened and Mom and her friends returned to Netherlands. But after some years, many of them moved on.
             My family came to the United States in early 1956 -- 10 1/2 years after my mother's liberation from Nazi Germany and Poland. She knew from the time the American military treated her so well that she wanted to live in the U.S.
               In her Shoah Foundation interview, Mom is quite outspoken -- harsh, really -- about her treatment in Holland upon her return, and what the country became in the years after the war. I'll spare you the details, but I will say her attitude was a bit disappointing to me. But that's how she felt.
                "Holland didn't mean anything [to me] anymore," she said. "When I came back, I already knew I didn't want to stay in Holland because I knew I would not have anybody left probably and that I would not have any close relatives. I didn't want to live there any more. I didn't feel that was my home any more.
               "Then when we married, Louis really didn't want to live there any more, either. I wanted to go to America, with my wonderful friends."
                And she did. The U.S. became home, Shreveport-Bossier became home, and my mother became a speaker/educator on the Holocaust, telling her story. She always praised the American military for its role, and among her many speaking engagements, few pleased her more than visits to groups at Barksdale Air Force Base, Fort Polk, La., and Fort Bragg, N.C.
                 She loved this country, and she loved the veterans. You don't have to wonder why.  

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

It's Election Day, bring on the pizza

    I give credit to Scott Ferrell, longtime sports editor of The Shreveport Times and now digital editor there, for his post on Twitter this morning:
    "Or as they say in every newspaper sports department across the country, every day is Election Day in sports."
    Oh, so true.
    Guarantee you that all those survivors of newspaper sports desk around the country are thinking, and saying, exactly what Scott expressed. And laughing about the pizza party they'll be having in the newsroom tonight while the election results -- and the stories -- roll in.
    The newsside reporters and desk personnel will be in mild states of panic -- mild early, severe panic late near deadlines. It happens five, six, seven nights a week in sports.
    Yes, elections are difficult to cover and there seemingly are thousands of angles and stories and photo ops to cover. Just like any Friday or Saturday night in sports during football season or in March during basketball season or in the middle of summer in an Olympics year.
    If the people who run newspapers gave us -- the sports department -- pizza for every difficult night that we had, we'd have owned a pizza franchise.
    You think I miss those nights? No way.
    I don't miss 50 to 100 or so high school football games -- depending on how big the market you're in -- being phoned in, and stories or roundups needing to be written, while you're also dealing with the 10 to 25 games from which you have reporters sending in stories (which need to be edited and which need headlines written, and possibly with photo cutlines/captions added).
    Plus, there are -- depending on which month -- major-league baseball roundups to be one, and a Texas Rangers game story/sidebar/notes to be dealt with, and/or a Dallas Mavericks story and notes, and a Dallas Stars' game and notes, and maybe some breaking news on the Dallas Cowboys because they're always making news (some of it even good news), and -- hold up the sports front -- here's a late-breaking Rangers' trade.
    There are Tuesday and Friday nights in basketball season when every high school team is playing all over the area, and there are college games going on at all levels, and there's an NBA roundup to be done.
    And even on "slow" days in summer, when there are no high school sports going, there is almost always a full schedule of MLB games and there's news about the Cowboys and there's the shocking latest development of wrongdoing in the sports world.
    It's been the same in every market I've worked in -- perhaps not as busy in Shreveport or Honolulu or Knoxville as in Fort Worth-Dallas or Jacksonville. It's a circus act more nights than not, believe me.
    Meanwhile on news side, the "excitement" level might hit that kind of warp speed once every two or three weeks ... if that much.
    Don't mean to say that newsside jobs aren't as difficult; they can be. Newsside does have a lot more life-and-death stories, and I would not trade places with the reporters and editors who had to handle those.
    I am saying that night sports departments are much more accustomed to the frenzy most nights.
    My wife, who has had an interesting and varied array of jobs, worked at the Knoxville News Sentinel for five-plus years -- mostly in the editorial department -- and saw the frenzied atmosphere (and the pizza rewards brought in) on newsside for Election Day coverage. She would remind the people in the newsroom that the sports department went through this almost nightly. (We've been married a long time, so she knew.)
    She said the newsroom reply was: Yeah, but if we make mistakes (on election coverage), they are not forgotten. What we do is much more important.
    OK, I'll concede that point. It is a little more important who is elected the governor of Texas and which party is in charge of the U.S. Senate than whether or not Tony Romo plays Sunday for the Dallas Cowboys.
      What I am saying? No, it's not. What chance do you think the Cowboys have without Romo in the lineup?
      And, really, does it actually matter when the Democrats or the Republicans have the majority in the Senate? They're not going to get much of anything done in the next two years either way. Plus, Greg Abbott as governor instead of Rick Goodhair (thank you, Molly Ivins)? Makes no difference ... well, no difference to me, anyway.
David Brooks, left, and Mark Shields: The political analysts on PBS are the
guys we watch to make sense of what is going on ... if it makes sense at all?
      Of course, I voted. I rarely miss any chance to vote. And I love reading about politics, and following politics on television, and I will watch the election results with interest.
      If you must know, I think David Brooks -- The New York Times' political columnist and perhaps as well-known for his political analysis on PBS -- should be our next President. He knows more, and is more sensible, than any of the politicians I see.
      But back to the original subject -- Election Night at the newspaper. I once volunteered to help out on newsside; I think it was the 2004 Presidential election, and my job that night at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram was to do a roundup of the biggest election stories in each of the 50 states.
       As I remember it -- and actually I'm trying to forget -- I did briefs item on each state and then updated as the election results came in. When we got to deadline time, I think I had updated some 30 of the 50 states (couldn't get to the Western time zone states).
        Of course, I panicked near deadline time. You'd think with all the nightly sports desk experience I'd had, I could have handled it with ease.
         But I got in on the pizza party. That's what was really important.
         So I'll miss the pizza tonight, but I won't miss the frenzy on newsside. I won't miss the action.
         Besides, here's the benefit of retirement. There's a pizza seller set up just across from our apartment complex, a monthly occurrence here. I'm going over and buy a pizza now, and we'll eat it as we watch the election results on television. Happy Election Day.