A Human Face

Indulge me for a bit of introspection today... It it not typically my style but something happened this weekend that left me stunned, awestruck and reflecting on my life.

 I went back to Israel this past weekend and packed up our home there. I always find it difficult to say goodbye whenever we leave somewhere and even more so now that I have children. While I know that I will forever carry our memories in my heart I'm afraid that we will forget some of the moments in our life because we don't have the reminders in our home. We will never have the door frame with the pencil lines marking their height and age, nor the scuffs and marks on walls to remind us of a first bike ride or fun memory. And while I was wallowing in my self pity I struck up a conversation with my driver. It started out as a normal "on the way to the airport" conversation. He asked where I was headed and I replied Italy. He mentioned he was born in Italy so naturally I asked where. His response slipped past me at first... "I was born in a prison camp in the north of Italy." No biggie to me, until his next comment put it all into perspective. "I moved to the homeland in 1948 and have never been back." Then it hit me like a ton of bricks! He was telling me that he was born in an internment camp. He is a survivor of the Holocaust. He carries with him memories that he wants to forget. This taxi driver will forever be the human face of the Holocaust for me. His few comments touched me more than any textbook or museum ever could.

In five years I may not remember when E-rie came to me and asked to go find the great pumpkin or when the wildman first rode his car but I will always remember this cab ride. And I will share the story with them because if there is one main reason why I travel this is it- to put a human face on history.