One of my heroes
I must remember to close the shutters because I always wake up before 5AM, as that's when the sun shows its face around here. But at least I cleaned the whole house and now it's spotless and smells nice. There is something very satisfying in cleaning, and though I have a cleaning person, he doesn't clean as well as I do. Admittedly, I've been accused of being a clean freak. But I disagree. I've also walked to the corner store to buy bread and milk and salami and chocolate, which I'm going to eat for lunch today.
Later I'm going to visit my uncle, the one who had (along with two of his brothers who have passed away) saved my mother from the concentration camp. Mom and a friend of hers were picked up by the Nazis and the Arrow Cross during WWII, when she was fourteen years old and her friend fifteen. That same night, her brothers broke into the temporary holding place where the Jews were being held, an unused winery with fence around the building, and took four people out. They had to flee their town, and so they took a cargo train to Budapest, hopping from car to car. They were outside in the process of getting into the next car, and my uncle was holding onto the connector plates (those round plate-like metal pieces), with one hand and holding my mother with another, when the train stopped. My uncle had lost parts of two fingers, which were so crushed that later had to be amputated. But thank god he didn't faint, and they managed to make it to the friends' house who hid them. If not for their heroic actions, my mother, and I and my children, wouldn't be alive.
My Uncle László is turning 90 this year, and he's still in relatively good health, and most importantly, his mental acuity is still sharp. He will tell me about their escape again, which I can't wait to hear again. He is one of my heroes.
Later I'm going to visit my uncle, the one who had (along with two of his brothers who have passed away) saved my mother from the concentration camp. Mom and a friend of hers were picked up by the Nazis and the Arrow Cross during WWII, when she was fourteen years old and her friend fifteen. That same night, her brothers broke into the temporary holding place where the Jews were being held, an unused winery with fence around the building, and took four people out. They had to flee their town, and so they took a cargo train to Budapest, hopping from car to car. They were outside in the process of getting into the next car, and my uncle was holding onto the connector plates (those round plate-like metal pieces), with one hand and holding my mother with another, when the train stopped. My uncle had lost parts of two fingers, which were so crushed that later had to be amputated. But thank god he didn't faint, and they managed to make it to the friends' house who hid them. If not for their heroic actions, my mother, and I and my children, wouldn't be alive.
My Uncle László is turning 90 this year, and he's still in relatively good health, and most importantly, his mental acuity is still sharp. He will tell me about their escape again, which I can't wait to hear again. He is one of my heroes.