I AM TAKING IT PERSONALLY

The bombing in Boston on April 15^th was a personal affront to me. Boston is a place I am from and a place that I go back to, not as often as I would like, but as often as I can. Knowing that Boston is there is a comforting feeling – it is still home though I haven’t lived there in 55 years. Many of the landmarks have changed and many of them haven’t but my memories are still with me in their original form.

Copley Square is a very big part of my life. Where the Marriott is now, I met Bill Russell at a gas station there. There he was in his 1955 Chrysler, the one with the big fins, maroon, as I recall and I was ecstatic. The license plate said “Boston Celtics 6.”

The bombing in Boston on April 15^th was a personal affront to me. Boston is a place I am from and a place that I go back to, not as often as I would like, but as often as I can. Knowing that Boston is there is a comforting feeling – it is still home though I haven’t lived there in 63 years. Many of the landmarks have changed and many of them haven’t but my memories are still with me in their original form.

Copley Square is a very big part of my life. Where the Marriott is now, I met Bill Russell at a gas station there. There he was in his 1955 Chrysler, the one with the big fins, maroon, as I recall and I was ecstatic. The license plate said “Boston Celtics 6.”

I walked from St. Cecelia and Belvedere Streets through the rail yards that now are home to the Sheraton Hotel and other establishments, to my work at Dartmouth Street. I walked through the south part of Copley Square. Near the end of the day I delivered photos to a building at Boylston near Berkeley Street. And when it was time to go home I got on the MTA (Now the T) in front of the library in Copley Square. I can go back to Boston at any time and follow those footsteps – even now. I have done it twice in the past few years – with my son and grandsons – who were all born in California. They, too feel a connection, a tie to Boston. Where did we rent the bikes we rode from the Finish Line to Kenmore Square and back? Right where bomb number two went off.  How dare they!

As we rode the bikes the only fear we had was of the Boston drivers. That made us stupid but cautious bike riders. We felt the streets as we pedaled our way around. We saw the beautiful brownstones, the wonderful shops and thank heaven for the Mandarin Hotel, it was a major pit stop for me.

How dare these maniacs or maniac try to upset the very place I still call home. How dare they try to hurt other Bostonians and how dare they kill and maim a kid and other kids who were their target. How dare they!

The bombs went off not far from Sax Fifth Avenue. Not my place to shop but my place to see my sister-in-law who works there. How dare they jeopardize her wellbeing and jeopardize a member of my family!

My son and my grandsons are Red Sox fans. These are monsters I created but nothing like the monsters that someone else created to do harm. They are Patriots fans that are loyal to the team. The evil that was bestowed on Patriots Day was an affront to all of us: Bostonians, New Englanders, ex- Bostonians and good people everywhere.

The young man that died came from Dorchester. That is my part of Boston. We even have organizations from Dorchester that have members all over the world. Patriots Day was once called ‘Evacuation Day.” George Washington threw the British out of Boston from Dorchester Heights. How dare they profane the day and the event – the Marathon. How dare they!

How dare they! Wherever I go in the world when I hear the flat “R” I know have a fellow Bostonian. These are good people who lived in a historic city – history all around us and it was shattered by a bomb blast. How dare they! These people are not patriots they are scum.

Yes, I take this very personally. But I take any event or action that puts good people in jeopardy personally. Why is it necessary to create chaos when no chaos is needed or wanted. How dare they upset the lives of good people!

I am angry and I am sad and I am taking it personally. People got hurt beyond anything they ever expected or deserved. People rose the occasion and that is a very positive thing, an inspiration to everyone. But why was it necessary? How dare they test our metal? The people rose to the occasion as heroes as a result of actions by a coward. How dare they, how dare they?

That is my take, you decide!

Post script:  The President spoke this morning an Interfaith Service in Boston's South End and he said that to Bostonians, this "is personal."

Post Script 2: One down and one to go. Let's get him and let's have him live a life of incarceration and deprivation and daily terror!

Post Script 3: They got the little bastard and now he will live a life of incarceration, deprivation and terror.

Post Script 4: There is a clamor to try this little bastard in a Military Tribunal and not afford him his constitutional rights. At first blush, it sounds about right but of all the detainees in Guantanamo four have been tried and two are home sipping tea in Yemen while more than 500 terror suspects have been tried in the civil courts and are out of circulation. The bottom line is that
sending bad guys to Guantanamo is being soft on terrorists.

 

 

 

 

NO MORE POLISH JOKES

After spending some time in Poland I have come to appreciate the resilience and the courage and the intelligence of this country and culture. There has been, as far back as I can remember, the expression, “that Is beyond the pale.” I never understood or appreciated what that meant.  Now I do. No more Polish jokes – it is inappropriate an inaccurate (except for Martin).

The borders of Poland went almost to Moscow at one time – many years ago. But in the last few years, mainly the 19^th and 20^thcentures Poland either did not exist at all or the borders moved according to the occupying nations.  For a period of time there were no borders as there was no Poland. That fact is mazing as these are very ingenious and creative people but they have existed between two countries that could overwhelm them and did.

Russia to the East and Germany to the west. Poland underwent so many revolts, however, when Poland was part of the Soviet Union – Eastern Bloc, as it was known during the Cold War, they did, for the most part enslave Poles, Czechs and Hungarians. First it was the Nazis that did their thing with the Poles. The original “Concentration Camps” such as Auschwitz was for political prisoners from Poland.  The Poles, whose borders were somewhat liquid, were always subject to another invasion or occupation. The Poles rose up during the latter part of the war. They were kids fighting the Nazi soldiers. Adult men were at the font (wherever that may be) or in prisons. They fought with old weapons, broom sticks, hammers – anything that they could use. The fight was futile but they did fight!

 

Near where I was staying was the old Jewish Ghetto. More than 300,000 Jews were either killed or sent to Auschwitz-Bierkenow to be exterminated (that word sickens me because you exterminate rats not people). As I walked up to the Large Memorial Statue I was awe struck as to how much courage it took to go against the Nazis. After the uprising by the people of Warsaw and the Jews in the Ghetto, knowing that the Soviets were 20Km away waiting for the uprising to fail (the Soviets could have helped but chose not to. Stalin would not allow it). No one stopped me, no Nazi, no Communist – no one stopped me as I went off to the side to say Kaddish for the fighters that died. (That is what they were fighting for).

So, the Nazis ordered that the entire city be destroyed. Not just a few buildings or areas – a complete destruction of the city. There was about 10% of the city left after they got through doing their thing. The Warsaw of today is completely rebuilt from the rubble up. Yes, even on top of the rubble they built new structures. So much of that was built had the architecture of good Communism – very utilitarian. The Jewish Ghetto – gone. There was one building that I found, as others have as well, the Synogogue near the hotel. It was sort of hidden on a small street so the Nazis and later the Commies didn’t destroy it. I went in to see the sanctuary and it was a small version of the Synogogue I became Bar Mitzvah in. Very Arshkenazic. Being Orthodox, it had a balcony much like my old shul had for the women. Now there aren’t too many Jews left in Warsaw, Hitler took care of that situation, but many who are there are quite old.  So, to accommodate the women, they set up a partition down stairs so there will continue to be separation at services.

From paintings, later discovered, were used as the blueprint for the old city of Warsaw and the old city was recreated. It looks just as it was, where it was before the WWII. Can you imagine building part a city and recreate it just as it was some hundreds of years before? Not just a small scale version – a 1:1 scale version. That was no easy task and no joke, it took skill and hard work and the dedication of the people to make it happen.

As you stroll down Royal Way from the old city you become enthralled with the notion that you are looking at a city that is less than 60 years old yet has the old world charm. It is a modern, old world city. It is amazing.

In the center of the city is Stalin’s gift to the people. The Palace of Fine Arts. As it was explained to me, the “wedding cake,” as the citizens of Warsaw call it has a wonderful view from the 30^th floor. I went up there to see the view and it was magnificent. The citizens of Warsaw also say that the best thing about the building is that you can’t see that “damn building” from there.

There is more about Poland that I want to share. Krakow is an amazing city with the best hot chocolate you could ever ask for anywhere. It is quite beautiful, even in the snow. The Jewish area is easy to find and quite nice. I visited three Synogogues while I was there and a Jewish book store. Krakow was spared the ravishes of war. But just 75 minutes from Krakow is Auschwitz-Bierkenow. Another blog for another time, when I can write about what I saw.

Since the borders of Poland have been so compromised over the years – Poland even disappeared from the world map for two generations, I may be a Pole. Lithuania and The Ukraine were at times, part of Poland. My maternal family is from Lithuania and my paternal family was from the Ukraine. My paternal grandfather, whose name I carry, was a Russian Army Captain who migrated to the United States to avoid killing Poles. (Way to go, Grandpa!)

To sum it up, the Polish people deserve the respect that they have earned through their blood and sacrifice. Through their wonderful outlook on life and their desire and their ability to bring back what was best about Poland. This is no joke. This is amazing!

Just before I left the hotel for Prague, I checked. I was in room 264 and the room next to me was room 266!

That is my take! I have decided, no more Polish jokes. Now you decide!