by Pnina Baim
She took out the digital camera Elanit had provided her with and started photographing the letters. The letters were remarkable, talking about the conditions in the army and the boys’ fierce determination to beat the Nazis.
“Were all your brothers in the army?” Gaby asked.
“No. Three of my brothers, a few brother-in-laws and a number of cousins.” Lee paused to think. “Actually, one of my brothers, Yus, volunteered with the British army before the United States became entangled in the war.”
“And the last brother?”
“My youngest brother, Moish, got smicha instead and became a rabbi. My mother couldn’t handle having four sons in the army.”
“Did your brothers help liberate any concentration camps?”
“No, they were stationed in North Africa and Belgium.”
Gaby nodded, letting the information seep in. It was all so surreal. There were sepia photographs hanging on the walls, featuring the smiling faces of teenagers and young adults, the girls in bobby sox and full skirts, the boys in black wingtips and pompadours. How did these regular people take on the enormous task of defeating the Third Reich like they did? “Was it hard for them to adjust to army life?”
“Well, it was hard for everyone. When we heard the stories coming out of Europe, we were very afraid for our brothers, for all of our family in the army. But the boys did good. They all kept kosher.”
“That’s good,” Gaby said, still staring at the pictures.
Lee shook her head, needing to clarify. “It was a big deal to keep kosher in the army in those days. We didn’t have any organizations sending kosher meals via FedEx everywhere. I remember, the army chaplain called up my mother one day and told her Yus is refusing to eat and she should tell him that it’s okay to eat the non-kosher food because he has to keep up his strength. So my mother got Yus on the phone and told him he has to eat. And he said,” Lee smiled proudly, “sure, I’ll eat. Let them send me kosher food. And the army did just that.”
“That’s a great story,” Gaby said. “Which one was Yus?”
Lee pointed to a glass-covered frame hanging on the wall. A young man, about the age of twenty or so, leaned against a broken brick wall, his head thrown back in laughter. “That was Yus. He passed on already.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear,” Gaby said quickly. There were all these minefields when you spoke to old people; it was hard not to feel like an idiot. “What did you do while your brothers were away fighting?”
“I was volunteering at the Vaad Hatzalah at that time.”
“The Vaad Hatzalah?” Gaby was familiar with the neighborhood volunteer ambulette services back in New York, but that couldn’t be what Lee was referring too.
“The Vaad Hatzalah was the main source of all the rescue efforts in the United States. We ignored the orders of the Roosevelt government, and we did whatever was possible to save the lives of as many Jews as we could, legally or illegally.”
“That’s incredible,” Gaby said, taking a notebook out of her bag and writing down notes. Gaby had so many questions, she didn’t know which one to pick. “Were you horrified when you heard the details about what happened in Europe?”
“Yes,” Lee said simply. “We were horrified.”
Gaby chewed her lip, remembering her conversation with Cobi last night. “Don’t you wonder sometimes where God was in all this?”
Lee looked at her and smiled. “There’s a story my husband liked to tell. There was a young boy named Leiby who was the oldest of four children. He was only ten years old when the Nazis rounded up his family and the rest of the Jews left in the town and put them on the trains to the camps. His father had already been deported and his mother, alone with four children in a packed cattle car, was trying to comfort her children. One of the little brothers, Sender, was crying incessantly that he had lost his shechaleh, his little shoe. Now, as you can understand, everyone was frantic and hysterical. They had been beaten and were packed into a cattle car with hardly any air, but when they heard this little boy crying for his shoe, they stopped their own panic and they helped Leiby look for Sender’s shoe until they found it and Sender was calmed. That was godliness. Caring about that little boy in his time of need, despite their own terrible circumstances.” Lee nodded sharply, underlining her point.
Gaby listened intently, her pen poised in the air, while Lee spoke, afraid to break the imagery that Lee was weaving with her soft, composed speech.
“Shortly afterwards, they reached Auschwitz. A neighbor took Leiby under his wing and instructed him to lie about his age because an older boy would have more of a chance to be sent to the right, to life. He saw his mother and his siblings sent to the left, to be gassed. Leiby survived the war under the care of this neighbor, and is still alive today, in Netanya, with a family and grandchildren, all thanks to this neighbor. That was godliness.” Lee’s brown eyes were shining. “When you do the best you can with what you have, and you act with care and concern for another person, that is the spark of God inside of you. You are acting like God. That’s where God was. In all of us.”
When Lee paused for breath, Gaby scribbled as rapidly as her hand would allow.
Lee watched her indulgently, allowing Gaby time to write. “I’m curious what you thought of the museum,” she said.
“Well, I haven’t gone yet,” Gaby admitted.
“You should go, it’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” Gaby raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I ever heard of a Holocaust museum described as beautiful.”
“Yes, it is beautiful,” Lee insisted. “When you walk around Yad Vashem, you see the scope and detail of the organized genocide against the Jewish nation. They were going to build museums about us, to show the world a people that once lived and are no more. And yet, here we are. And more than that, we are a graceful people. When the Jews were liberated, we did not go on rampages against our attackers and their collaborators. We turned our attention to rebuilding our lives and allowed justice to run its course, although, granted, the courts did a terrible job.” Lee shook her head. “Ah well, there is only one true judge in the world.” She looked up in the direction of the ceiling. “Justice will prevail. If not in this world, then the next.”
“Can I ask you something?” Gaby asked gently, afraid that her question might offend Lee. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’? You and your family were safe in America.”
“Yes, that is true, my family was not harmed directly by the Nazi regime, but if Hitler had his way, there would be no Jews left in the world. So in reality, we are all survivors.”
“That’s true,” Gaby acknowledged.
“And of course, the Nazis destroyed great yeshivas and communities and erased so much history and culture. So we all lost a great deal. But here’s a fascinating tidbit for you.” Lee had a mischievous look on her face and Gaby leaned closer to hear what she was going to say. “Few people know this, but there are many children of Nazis who actually converted to Judaism.”
Gaby drew back in disbelief. “No way. I don’t believe you.”
“Yes, indeed. The Germans, as it is known, are a very intellectual people, and the children were remorseful of the sins of their parents. They wanted to study who were these people that the Nazis hated so much and were so determined to exterminate, and for some of them, Judaism was so appealing, they converted! In fact, I’ve recently read a newspaper article that the grandson of Hitler’s nephew is a religious Jew living right here in Israel.”
“That is insane.” Gaby said, narrowing her eyes as she considered the possibility. The children of Nazis living as Jews? It was too topsy-turvy to comprehend.
“How’s that for revenge?” Lee asked slyly, with an expression that could only be described as a gleeful smirk.
“Revenge is best served cold,” Gaby quoted.
“Very true,” Lee chuckled.
“So how did you end up here?” Gaby asked, waving her hand around the lovely little house.
“Aft
er I married my husband, Dr. Henry Rubin, we moved to Israel. This was pre-Six-Day War, and it wasn’t a very popular move in those days. People were afraid of living in Israel, but this is where we wanted to live. My husband passed away a brief seven years after we married, but those were the happiest years of my life.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. It must have been terrible for you, to be alone for all those years.”
Lee brushed away Gaby’s condolences with a wave of her hand. “That’s all right. I’ve been happy here. I’ve had a very full life. I have a lot of relatives in Israel, and my sisters visit me all the time from New York. My father even moved in with me for the last few years of his life. He stayed here, in this room.” Lee smiled at the memory. “He was a wonderful man, deeply learned, with a true appreciation for Torah.”
“That sounds nice,” Gaby said. She picked up a plainly bound book that was lying on a nearby shelf. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s some poetry I wrote.”
Before Gaby could ask if she could read it, Lee was already standing up.
“I think we’re done here. Would you like to go to a nearby shuk with me?”
“Sure,” Gaby said. Apparently, this lady was not used to sitting around.
Lee led the way to the entranceway where a vintage map of the world was displayed, covered with red tacks. She picked a brown purse up off an elaborately-carved umbrella stand, and carefully put the narrow strap over her head. Gaby, waiting as Lee made herself ready, examined the map.
“What’s this?” Gaby asked.
“Oh, that?” Lee looked up. “Those are all the places in the world I’ve traveled.”
Gaby leaned closer, peering at the red tacks clustered in groups on every continent on the map.
“Wow, you’re a real world traveler.”
“Yes, I used to be. I traveled with my sister, Dotty, a couple of times a year. But now…” Lee indicated with her cane and Gaby smiled sympathetically.
“So what was the most interesting place you’ve been to?” Gaby asked as the two of them went outside and Lee gingerly climbed down the steps.
“Hmm, the most interesting trip would be when I went with Dotty on a seven-week trip to India, China, and Japan. It was like being in a whole new world. In India, especially, there was no middle class, and there was extreme poverty. Bodies would be lying on the road, and a truck would come by and check if that person had a pulse. But it was fascinating. They had such a different culture.”
Lee told Gaby about her travels as they walked through the quiet, well-maintained streets of Ramat Gan to the nearby artisanal market. This market was remarkably different from the Machane Yehuda Shuk in Jerusalem, where in closely-packed, old wooden stalls, vendors yelled and screamed to attract the attention of potential customers. Here, business was conducted in soft, pleasant tones, in stalls built from pretty pine wood and shaded by bamboo awnings. Lee purchased some groceries of fresh bread, cheese, and a few bakery items, and presented Gaby with two plastic tubs of black and green olives.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“Thank you for having me,” Gaby said. She stood there for a minute, smiling widely, awkwardly holding the olives.
“If you have any more questions, it would be lovely to have you visit again!” Lee said. “But call first, I might not be home.” She started walking away, in the direction of her house, and Gaby grinned at her retreating back.
On the bus ride back, she quickly handwrote her notes on the pad of paper, sketching out her thoughts into paragraphs.
Hopefully, Elanit and the rest of those in charge would be happy with her report, and they would accept Lee’s letters as an exhibit in the museum. Maybe Elanit would be so impressed with her work that she’d give her a chance to interview other people. Regardless, she definitely planned on calling Lee and visiting her again. Lee had been fascinating to talk to, and Gaby was looking forward to another visit.
It was odd. If you saw Lee from afar, you would think she was just a little old lady, tending to her garden, buying her small amount of groceries, but in fact, Lee with her nonconformist views toward happiness, her lack of fear in moving to Israel, her desire to see the entire world, not to mention her ability to articulate her viewpoint with others, made her one of the most unique people Gaby had ever met.
Everyone thinks they are so different, but when push comes to shove, they all want the same thing: a loving husband, healthy and successful children, a big house, and plenty of money to go with it. But when life doesn’t go the way they hoped, how many act like Lee and make the most of what they’ve got? Lee was unique because she made the most of her life, she used her intelligence and kept her independence into her twilight years, and she didn’t allow the lack of something as fundamental as a nuclear family to stop her.
To live a life as full as Lee did was something Gaby could aspire to. Who’s to say she wouldn’t start traveling around the world, or own her own sweet little cottage filled with priceless artifacts?
She would do all of that, travel the world, and collect souvenirs, and fill a map with little red tacks. And the first place she would visit would be her employer, the museum, and she would do it with Hillel.
She would make up with him, no matter how long it took. Talking to Lee taught her that life was more than what you got, it was what you did with it, and the person she wanted to make the most of her life with was Hillel. They belonged together, and that was that. She had made a mistake, and she was going to fix it. It was time to get Hillel back, and once she did, she wouldn’t let go of him again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gaby sat on the green iron bench in front of the exit for Shiloh in the Central Bus Station, tapping the point of her boots impatiently, waiting for Hillel to come. She checked her phone again to confirm the time and double checked it against the digital display above the exit. Still too early.
She got up and went into the bustling shopping section, walked past home design stores, candy stores, and clothing stores, and went into a bakery.
Against the wall was a large red board listing the deals. Gaby read the board and when the cashier asked her what she wanted, Gaby asked for two large coffees with two vanilla croissants. The cashier handed her the pastries and coffee and processed her change, and as she was leaving the bakery, Gaby realized that the whole transaction had taken place in Hebrew.
Feeling a little proud of her mastery of the language, she walked back to her spot. Hillel was there, leaning against the rail in front of the Shiloh exit, a huge duffle backpack leaning against the railing. He was on the phone and didn’t see her approach, and she took a minute to savor the sight of him, the first time she was seeing him in over two months.
Finally, he looked up and noticed her. With a huge grin, he hung up the phone and put an arm around her.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Good,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “Look what I bought us.”
Hillel took the small yellow and red bag from her and smelled the fresh croissants. “Just like I bought you when we first met.”
“It was actually the third time we met.” Gaby corrected him.
“That’s right,” he said. “You remember.”
“I remember everything,” Gaby said. “Did you remember the tefillin?”
“Of course,” Hillel said, indicating a shopping bag holding a cardboard box that was resting on top of his duffle bag.
“Thank you. Rafi is going to be so happy.”
“It was my pleasure,” Hillel said.
Gaby paused, thinking about how natural it was for Hillel to go out of his way just to make Rafi, a boy he met once, happy. But she couldn’t throw herself on him to show her never-ending gratitude, so instead she said, “You want to hear something crazy?”
“Sure,” Hillel said, biting into his croissant.
“When I got the food, I ordered it all in Hebrew.”
“Look at that. You’re really getting used
to being here.” He took a long sip of the coffee and smiled. “Just the way I like it. How’d you know?”
Gaby laughed, remembering when she had been amazed that they took coffee the same way. She took a sip of his coffee, savoring it. “Delicious.”
Hillel smiled and taking her coffee from her other hand, sipped. “Perfect.”
Gaby laughed, relaxing. It felt like them before, but with a difference. Now, she couldn’t take Hillel for granted, and assume he would do whatever she wanted. She looked at him pensively. “I wanted to ask you something. Would you come with me to Yad Vashem?”
Hillel raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you work there?”
“No, I work in a separate office building. I know I should go see the exhibits, but I’m too scared to go alone.”
“Sure, I’ll go with you if you want. Why are you scared to go?”
Gaby shrugged. “It’s just so sad. I know some people think it’s beautiful and hopeful, because we are still here after all that destruction. But for all those people who died…” Gaby paused. “They aren’t here anymore. And they died for being a Jew.”
“Not over a parking space,” Hillel said.
Gaby snorted, and then stopped herself. “Stop, I’m being serious.”
“I know. I’ll go with you, and then we’ll go to the Kotel so we can rejoice,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
“And check out the Churva shul,” Gaby added. “My friend Rikky said it’s beautiful.” As the words came out of her mouth, she realized that for the first time she was able to think of Rikky without any grief, just fondness.
“They say it rose from the dead,” Hillel said.
Like us, thought Gaby.
Hillel looked at her and touched her collarbone. “I like your necklace,” Hillel said.
Gaby looked down at her necklace, a twisted piece of hemp holding up the yellow glass sun Hillel had bought her.
“I like it, too,” Gaby said.
Hillel smiled down at her for a long minute and then nudged her shoulder. “We better get onto the bus before it leaves,” Hillel said.