Copenhagen Part II

The stylish new boots I bought for this trip have rubbed attractive sores on my heels and ankles. I asked the front desk for bandaids and they brought me some gauze.(?) Luckily I found a Danish version of bandaids at the train station and limped around Copenhagen in my comfortable but unfashionable tennis shoes. My hair is a frizzy mess in all this humidity. So much for looking good. It's also pretty cold and windy here. We did a lot of walking because we kept getting lost. The Danish Jewish Resistance Museum was full of pictures and videos of survivors telling harrowing stories. There was even part of an electrical fence from around one of the concentration camps. The sun came out in the afternoon as we walked along the ocean to see the Little Mermaid. A delicious aroma lured us to a woman stirring a vat of hot roasted candied almonds. It was useless to resist them. Yum. A 10 story cruise ship took us on an overnight trip from Copenhagen to Oslo. We left in the late afternoon and sailed into the setting sun, which, by the way, never did really set. We had a tiny little room with two bunkbeds. These cruises are very popular and always sold out. There are duty free shops, lots of entertainment, singers, kareoke, disco, even a theater, and big buffets with every kind of food imaginable. Next stop: Oslo, Norway.

Copenhagen Part 1

We arrived in Copenhagen on a Tuesday morning. We rode the metro and marched along cobble stoned streets, hauling our luggage behind us. Luckily everyone in Scandinavia speaks English as I was forced to ask for help and directions over and over. For the most part, Scandinavians are pleasant and helpful and some kind souls even stopped to see if we needed help when we were standing at a corner staring cluelessly at a city map. Kyle seemed to enjoy riding the subway and local buses and started learning a few Danish words right away to help us get around. We discovered a huge indoor mall nearby with all kinds of stores, boutiques, a supermarket and restaurants. There was even a glass elevator to the top floor with a beautiful view of the city. Lunch was at a restaurant recommended by our Danish friend from the airplane, a sushi bar at the top of the Tivoli Hotel. There we enjoyed a panoramic view of Copenhagen and Kyle was delighted to discover he was old enough to order a beer in Denmark. It was very strange to have a drink with my teenage son! We walked all over Copenhagen, enjoying the Nyhaven (new harbor) area the most with its lively, outdoor restaurants, rows of ancient, colorful buildings on one side and the channel with boats on the other. Our last stop was Tivoli Gardens, an amusement park I have always loved. We walked around the beautiful grounds admiring the ponds with ducks and fountains and an abundance of shrubs and flowers. Children shrieked with glee from roller coasters and other rides spiraling overhead. A cozy restaurant beckoned and we found a candlelit table on the deck over the water for an early dinner. Our hotel room was on the top floor with a beautiful view of the harbor and Christianshavn directly across from us. You could even see the bridge that connects this part of Denmark with Sweden. At 9 PM there was still plenty of daylight. It seemed a shame to go to bed so early but we were tired and jetlagged and couldn't keep our eyes open any longer.

Traveling - Day 1

My son and I are traveling to Scandinavia and Germany together. This is a wonderful opportunity for us to see distant parts of the world that we remember fondly and to visit my adopted German family. Since I only had a week to put this all together, I have been in frenzied stress mode, hoping I have all the details covered. The Men In Black Shuttle Service picked us up at o dark hundred and deposited us at the airport. Why am I always such a nervous mess? Panic creeps up my spine and tightens my throat as a thousand worries sprout. Will our suitcases pass weight requirments? Did I forget anything at home? Do I have our passports? I check my purse over and over to make sure I have boarding passes, Eurorail passes, hotel confirmations. We get through checkin without any problems. Whew. We doze off and on on the way to New Jersey where we change planes for Copenhagen. Then we're off. We're really on our way! We sit next to a sweet young Danish girl who gives us helpful tips on things to see and do in Copenhagen. I usually suffer miserably from jet lag. This time I am armed with herbal remedies that I'm hoping will make this trip easier. The TV screens in front of our seats show an animated plane on a map of the world. We track our progress as we fly over Canada and Nova Scotia and over the Atlantic. I watch in envy as our Danish friend falls effortlessly and peacefully asleep. This presents a problem because Kyle and I have to use the bathroom. We have the middle and window seats and now have to figure out a way to crawl over the aisle seat occupied by Miss Denmark without waking her. We stare at her sleeping form and discuss strategies. After several false starts, Kyle decides to go for it and accidentally kicks her in the process (of course). She is startled awake and I apologize profusely. She is very forgiving and we all try to settle in for the evening, as much as possible while being crammed into a sardine can. This is the smallest plane I have ever flown to Europe on. There is absolutely no leg room or body room or breathing room. I worry how I will manage my restless leg syndrome during this uncomfortable flight along with all the other worries piled up in my head. Then I see the sunset. I have the best view in the world for the most beautiful sunset ever. I am 35,000 feet in the air viewing a wall of crimson that lasts for hours. This is bliss. My worries fade into the background and I glue my face to the window, determined to enjoy every last minute of this brilliant display.

GRADUATION DAY

My daughter graduated from high school last week.  We weren’t sure she was going to graduate until the very last day of school, so no invitations were sent out and a lot of stressful scrambling took place trying to lasso relatives.  Most kids take for granted they are graduating but for Krista this was an extra special event because she struggled so hard to make it happen.  Her dad and I had feared the worst.  If she didn’t graduate she would be banned from sharing this important ceremony with her friends.  But she made it.  And we were all there, even her beloved relatives from out of town.

The last time I attended a graduation ceremony was for my nephew 10 years earlier in this same school.  My daughter was 8 and my son was 7 at the time.  My sister also had a 7 year old son and a 2 year old daughter.  We sat high up in the bleachers admonishing our younger ones to sit still and act solemnly (Ha!) during the ceremony.  Now my beautiful daughter is an adult (18), sitting in the rows of chairs waiting to be called to receive her diploma.  Our young sons are now big strapping, handsome teenage boys and the baby girl is a lovely young lady.  I kept putting one foot in the time portal, seeing my kids as they were back then, all cute and innocent, and coming back into the present to see these tall beings on their way to adulthood. 

I don’t remember it being this crowded last time.  (Population explosion?)  The parking lot was full 45 minutes before the start of the event and we were forced to scrounge for parking spots way, way up the street.  Then there was a huge line to wait in that wrapped all the way around the parking lot.  When we finally got inside the gates, we discovered there was nowhere left to sit.  The fence in front of us was covered with graduation balloon bouquets.  At first we stood at the fence, batting balloons out of our faces, trying to look for Krista.  Then we found a different area of fence with no balloons and, although we had to stand, had a clear view of the field of chairs and giddy teenagers.  Poignant speeches were made and one by one each name was called and students lined up to climb the stage stairs and accept their diplomas.  What a thrill to see Krista’s beaming face as she walked to the stage.  After everyone’s name was called, they were instructed to turn their tassels to the left side and then everyone threw their hats high into the air, a symbolic gesture as proof they were now graduates.  Krista ran to greet us at the fence for copious hugs, kisses and picture taking.  She was ecstatic to see her cousins, aunt and uncle.  The cousins jumped the fence and took turns taking pictures together.  Then Krista disappeared for a while, swallowed up in her group of joyous friends.  Our relatives had to leave; it was still a school night for them, and we searched the sea of young faces for our daughter.  Of course this was a once in a lifetime, monumental occasion, one she should be allowed to relish without hurry, but we were late for dinner reservations and her dad was worried about his car getting towed.  This explains his odd behavior.  I watched from the sidelines in amused horror as Mike ran frantically through the field, hands waving, looking like a Tasmanian devil as he yelled, “KRISTA!  KRISTA!” at the top of his lungs.  Of course she was mortified.

We took her to our favorite restaurant, The Brigantine, and showered her with graduation balloons, flowers and cards.  It was late, we were starving and exhausted, and elated.  Also relieved.  Very, very relieved. 

Happy Graduation Day, Sweetheart.

My Son My Hero

My Son My Hero

This past Mother’s Day, my son became my hero.  I was lying in bed watching CBS Sunday Morning when I heard pots and pans rattling around downstairs.  I fought the temptation to get up and see what was going on and told myself to relax and enjoy the moment.  About an hour later, my bedroom door burst open and he yelled, “HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!” then laughed at my startled reaction.  He announced he had made breakfast and presented me with a giant pancake, a perfectly cooked fried egg and coffee.  He even remembered my favorite green Tabasco sauce for my egg.  The pancake was the biggest, thickest one I’d ever seen and he proudly pointed out there were apple slices inside.  He had set his alarm that morning and googled the recipe.  It was truly the best pancake I’d ever tasted, maybe because of the hands that made it or because I suddenly felt so special.  We sat in my room watching the rest of the news show and eating our feast.  Then he politely took all the dishes downstairs and cleaned the kitchen.  Does it get any better?  In the afternoon, I asked if he would go for a bike ride with me.  I’m sure he didn’t want to but felt obliged since it was Mother’s Day.  It was a warm, sunny day and we rode from our house, down a bike path which took us under the freeway, along the sparkling lake.  We rode the fun, scenic bridge over Lake Hodges, then uphill to the Rancho Bernardo Winery.  They were having a craft fair and there were lots of booths to visit and a band playing in front of the tasting room.  I bought a glass of champagne for me, a soda for Kyle and cheese sticks,  We found a place to sit by the fountain to have our snack and listen to the music.  The bike ride was strenuous on the way there but blissfully downhill all the way home and I relished the warm sun on my arms, the wind in my hair and the view of the lake.  Also it was exhilarating going downhill as fast as I dared (which is not that fast but still fun).  We stopped at the little farmer’s market close to home and sat in the sun listening to music while Kyle ate a lemon Italian ice.  We had just enough time when we got home to clean up and get ready to go out to dinner with his dad and sister.  I will never forget the time and effort Kyle put into making my day special.  It was a treat to have him spend the whole day with me, just the two of us and that pancake served to me in bed was a dream come true. 

And that’s why my son is now my hero.

Accidental Snake Slayers

Lake Perris

Split Stop

Diane&Scotchelo

lots of rocks

 It all started out so innocently.  Another perfect, sunshiny day, riding horses around Lake Perris.  Because our horses are gaited, we had no problem riding around the entire lake in a few short hours.  We couldn’t have asked for better weather and soon found our perfect split stop at a picnic table under shady trees.  We watched the sun sparkling on the lake while our horses munched grass and we clinked our plastic glasses filled with bubbly.  Champagne and granola bars...lunch of champions, or snake slayers, but more on that later.  We passed by another picnic spot where two people and a dog sat at the table.  Wait, what?  We had to do a double take at what appeared to be a dog sitting at the table between a man and a woman.  It was so cute and we should have taken a picture.  

The next attraction was a person climbing a sheer rock wall.  At first I thought some parent was not doing their job very well because the person looked like a small child.  You know how  things look much smaller in the distance?  This person was pretty high up on the wall with nothing holding him there but his shoes and a rope he was clinging to.  His friends were standing below, urging him on.   He looked like a fly stuck on a wall and my palms started to sweat just watching his attempt to pull himself up the smooth and very vertical rock face.  We continued climbing up a narrow trail that brought us out on top of the dam, then down the other side and back in the direction of our trailer. We were laughing and talking, enjoying the day, when Peggy suddenly halted her horse and turned to me saying there was a big, giant rattler in the road.  It was impressive looking, quite large, and a pretty reddish brown color.  It was stretched about halfway across the trail with no intention of budging.  “Should I throw a rock at it?” Peggy whispered.  

"I'm looking at you!"

 “Yeah” was my intelligent response.  I should have said, “No, throw daisy petals at it” or “lets sing it a song” but my horse has been known to climb boulders, hop sideways across a meadow and has broken my hand in his attempts to flee rattlers.  I just wanted it to go away.  Peggy got off her horse, picked up a rock and heaved it in the snake’s general direction.  To our great surprise and horror, the rock landed on the snake and it rattled, hissed, writhed, and looked a tad uncomfy.  Peggy and I sat there with our mouths open, not believing what had just happened.  We never meant to hurt it, just wanted it to move.  Peggy said she had the worst aim ever which I guess is why she hit it, because she wasn’t aiming at it.  We both felt horrible and kept apologizing to it.  I wanted to give it a hug, kiss it better and say sorry, (no hard feelings?), but decided this wasn’t the best idea and he probably wouldn’t understand anyway. And that’s how we became the reluctant, unwilling, accidental snake slayers.  At this point we decided it would be a good idea to forge through the bushes and up to the street, making a wide arc around our unfortunate victim, just in case retaliation was on his mind.  We yelled out, “Sorry Dude!” over and over again as we rode and hoped he would be OK.  I don’t like to see anything getting hurt and this put a real damper on the rest of our day.  My sincere apologies, Mr. Snake, once again, if you are reading this.  We promise not to throw stones at you ever again.

Sincerely,

D&P

A.S.S. (Accidental, oh, you know)

Photos by Peggy Jones
Snake photo from internet

Doris Martin

Doris Martin

It’s not often we get the chance to hear a firsthand account of World War II from the mouth of a survivor.  Sure, you can read books and interviews or learn from history books or TV documentaries, but to actually hear a survivor speak about their experiences in their own words is a far more interesting and emotional experience. 

I recently had the pleasure of hearing Doris Martin speak at the Escondido Library.  I had seen her here in 2009, was incredibly moved by her story and bought a copy of her book, Kiss Every Step.  This time I talked my 16 year old son into attending with me.  He was reluctant but I reminded him that this might be his only chance to hear a Holocaust survivor speak.  I was glad he agreed to go with me and hoped he would be moved by the experience and receive the message that intolerance breeds unacceptable cruelty. 

Doris is a Polish Holocaust survivor.  She is in her eighties now, born the same year as my own mother, and is very attractive and well dressed.  The vulnerability in her voice and her small stature make me want to run up and give her a big hug.  When Doris speaks, the atrocities she experienced some 70 years ago still make her voice tremble with emotion.  She has a thick accent and her English is a bit broken but she is able to convey her story with powerful clarity.  She is still bewildered how Hitler could have such hatred toward her and her people who had done nothing to him.  She cannot fathom how anyone could treat fellow human beings, including innocent children and babies, so cruelly.  She was torn from her family, forced into Auschwitz and then another labor camp where she was stripped of her clothing and dignity, beaten, kicked, starved, degraded and humiliated.  Her voice echoes the horror of having witnessed the senseless killing of babies and watching people being marched into the “showers” where they were exterminated.  Her life was spared many times during the course of the war, for reasons she can’t explain.  Her story is unique in that her entire family survived.  It is quite rare for an entire Jewish family to have survived.  All seven of her family members were separated during the war and survived in different ways, and amazingly, all seven returned to their family home after the war.  They had no contact with each other during those years and had no idea if their loved ones had survived.  The stories of each family member as described in her book are compelling.  It is hard to imagine surviving or even wanting to survive in such conditions for a short time, let alone years.  Imagine living in constant fear and dread, starving, cold, and subjected to constant horror, pain and humiliation.

I was impressed that the library was filled to capacity, standing room only.  People of all ages came to hear Doris’s story and many were moved to tears as they listened.  While Doris feels no hatred toward the German people, she cannot forgive Hitler for the pain and suffering he caused. She thinks of him as the devil. 

Amazingly, she encounters those who tell her the Holocaust never happened and she is making it all up.  This must be the ultimate slap in the face; to be a witness and to suffer such horror, then to be told it never happened.  She feels the importance of her speaking is to teach people that yes, this really did happen,  and to encourage tolerance among all people regardless of race or religion.  She held up pictures of the crematorium, and an amazing photo recently found on the internet, of a group of women getting off the train at Auschwitz.  There in the middle of the group was Doris.  She was standing in a group of women destined for the “showers” before she was sent to a different labor camp.  Her husband recently discovered the picture on the internet and she was just as amazed as anyone else to see herself standing there in Auschwitz at the age of 14.