Yette
While reading The Lost by Daniel Mendelsohn, a memoir of his search for six members of his family who were killed during the holocaust, I am painfully aware of lost stories that will never be told.
My grandmother Yette, my mother's mother, came here in the early 1920's." Grandma," I'd say, " tell me about your home in Poland."
"Nothing to tell. It's gone."
She spoke a combination of Yiddish and English and read the Yiddish paper. She drank her tea in a glass, crocheted lace tablecloths, read Singer's fiction in Yiddish, and thought that money should be shared.
I don't know the name of the town, how many people lived there, the local gossip, my grandmother's mother's name.
"It's just gone as if it never was."
It's true of all genocides.
Stories and voices muffled by horrific endings.
My grandmother Yette, my mother's mother, came here in the early 1920's." Grandma," I'd say, " tell me about your home in Poland."
"Nothing to tell. It's gone."
She spoke a combination of Yiddish and English and read the Yiddish paper. She drank her tea in a glass, crocheted lace tablecloths, read Singer's fiction in Yiddish, and thought that money should be shared.
I don't know the name of the town, how many people lived there, the local gossip, my grandmother's mother's name.
"It's just gone as if it never was."
It's true of all genocides.
Stories and voices muffled by horrific endings.
1 Comments:
Yes - so many stories lost. I too read The Lost. Brilliant book - the way the story is told in a way to keep us going. Daniel's brother Matt, whose photographs grace the book, is a good friend. I still stop by your blog now and then although I rarely comment (anywhere anymore). Keep up the good writing and reflecting!
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