My dad was always bringing people home and most of the time they were really interesting. One time he bought home this really cute guy. Well, as a presumptuous little girl I took a liking to him. It must have been pathetic. I don't remember anything but him being nice to me. Robert Shane I thank you for not hurting a little girls early crush on you.
And then there was the pretty lady who came one day to our house. There was a man with her, but something about her drew me to sit by her side. The sadness in her brought me close and kept me there.
We had a house full that day--don't ask me why--but there had to be a house full or she would not have been sitting on the piano seat, but she was. I sat on the floor right next to her.
She was in a suit, a gray suit, I know I thought that the color was not a good one for her. It brought out all the sadness that was inside her.
And then I saw it.
The tattoo on her wrist.
That series of numbers. She was rubbing them softly.
I asked--What's that??
My dad came unglued.
I had done it again. Asked a question when I should have been silent. Typical me. I looked at her with tears in my eyes, and said--sorry.
She wouldn't let dad punish me. She looked at me and said--some bad men did this to me and a lot of others. And then she patted my cheek and said--don't ever forget.
How could I forget??
The holocaust is the most heinous thing to happen to humanity EVER.
Don't forget!!