I looked at the headstone, looked at Tom, and said, “We did it.”
It was closure for a very long journey, complete with the ups and downs. I am forever grateful for having the opportunity to meet so many wonderful people who are dealing with such a dark history.
Uncle Fred used to visit us every year for several months at a time. We take great pleasure in having him around. From the moment we met, we felt like close family and everything that comes with that. He is still learning the Jewish holidays and some traditions to which he is not accustomed. When our son Yarden did Aliyah to the Torah at the age of thirteen—Bar Mitzvah—Rabbi Ely Rosenfeld from the Chabad center in Fox Chapel made sure that Uncle Fred, at the age of seventy-six, would have his Aliyah to the Torah, too. On Tomʼs 80th birthday, Uncle Fred said that he never believed he would live to be that old. Uncle Fred is only six weeks younger than Tom.
“Speak for yourself; I am not old,” said Tom.
“Remember what mom Alice said. Age is only a mental stage,” I added.
My wonderful and much-appreciated mother-in-law was ninety-eight years old, very independent, and claims, “I still have all my marbles.” I want to believe that with his new life Uncle Fred will be around for many more years—he has seventy years to catch up. My Timothy (or Tom, as everyone else calls him) is young at heart. We are celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary in October 2012 and very much looking forward to our silver anniversary.
Uncle Fred recounted to me, “The only memory I have of your Dad is playing next to the river bank, were we saw a body floating down the river. I cannot remember him or how he looks, but I remember being with my little brother. I donʼt have a lot of memories from the past; only a few, and I hold onto them with my dear life because that is all I had when the Taylorsʼ told me that my entire family died in the war, that I am no longer Jewish, and I am going to learn a new religion.“I also remember a man, a striking and smart man with polished boots and ironed uniforms. I understand that Yuval described the same man. It is possible that this one is our father, but we will never know. As you know, all three of us were given our Motherʼs maiden name of Loewenthal. I also remember someone was born and someone died; I am not sure in what order or how. But the cause of the situation stuck in my mind. Mother is shouting for help in the one bedroom we lived in with a few children and a few adults. One of the adults made a curtain so we would not see her, but the shouting...one cannot forget that, and then a babyʼs cry. It could have been Roti, it could have been Karl Jr. “One night was especially quiet. I remember someone on the floor covered with a blanket. To my question of “What happened?” I received a reply, “Heʼs dead,” and again, my dear Nava, I cannot remember how it was. My last memory from Danzig...I remember getting a small bag and being pushed onto a train. That turned out to be the Kinder Transport. “In England, I remember being taken to the Taylorʼs, but Gerda did not come with me. I was told I would see her later. I fell asleep. In the morning, I woke up to a smell that I never dreamed of. It was so good on the nose. I was happy. They asked me to come to the table, where I was introduced to bacon and eggs. It was delicious. I had never had such a big breakfast in my life. It was like a meal for the whole week. Later that day, I was given banana. I started to eat it with the skin, and didn't like it at all. When the Taylors saw this, they showed me how to eat the banana, and other fruits and vegetables. “My very first Christmas, I was so surprised at all the festive feelings, the good food, and lots of presents. I felt really good. But this ʻhoneymoonʼ lasted only a few months. Gerda had her family. They adopted her. She did well in school, and was very happy. As for me, everything was exactly the opposite. I did poorly in school–now, I know I am dyslexic. Back then they did not know what that was so they treated me like I was mentally retarded. I got into trouble in school. When I went home, if Mr. Taylor had talked to the teacher, I knew I was in big trouble. He would beat me all over my body. I was in pain for days. So that people would not notice, he mostly avoided my face. One time, he beat me on my face and I was forced to wear a ski mask so that no one would see. At times, it was so bad that I thought I was going to die.“ At fourteen, I quit school and went to work. I had to earn my living in the Taylorsʼ house. I gave my entire income to them. At sixteen, I left home. I could not bear it anymore. I was big enough to do so. My relationship with Gerda drifted apart. I felt like she did not want me in her life. She never said anything or did anything to prove my feelings correct. It was just the way things were.
When Ruth and I got married, I finally thought that my life was going the right way. I had a loving wife, house, work—a manʼs dream. But that was not the case at all. Shortly after our wedding, Ruth got sick, very sick, and dependent on me. When she felt a little better, we wished for a child, and she got pregnant. That day was such a happy day! Again a trauma happened. Ruth had a miscarriage. After that, her health, mentally and physically, was poor. She never got pregnant again. Then she passed away from cancer. “
“Here I am, at the age of eighty, looking up and I see my new beautiful god-sent family. I wish I had known your Dad and all my sisters years ago. I never saw Yuval after the Kinder Transport and I am very sorry for that. But he left you behind to find me. With you, Tom, Yarden, Shani and all of your brothers and sisters, I am blessed with a new family and a new life.”
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2008. It was a beautiful 2008 autumn day in Pittsburgh. The air was crisp and clean, with the sun shining brightly in an azure sky. An occasional fluffy white cloud danced across the horizon. The days were beginning to shorten, reminding me that colder days were ahead. Today, however, was glorious! It was a time, with the brilliant sun, low humidity, and warm temperatures that reminded me of my home in Eilat, Israel.
When I first came to Pittsburgh, I longed for the sea. I still do. But everything was turning out so perfectly here, that I knew it was selfish to ask for any more.
Tom’s job with Arnold was working out even better than we expected. His success reminded of the stories Tom related to me about previous times spent with Arnold. When they were young, ambitious and successful, Tom and Arnold walked into a high-end car shop and asked for help from a young salesperson. They did not look like serious customers with short pants and wrinkled shirts, as they just landed from a long flight. The young salesperson made fun of them and asked one of the veteran guys to help them. Tom purchased a Rolls Royce, and Arnold bought a Cadillac! It was a cash transaction! The young guy learned a valuable lesson. Do not judge a book by its cover. Later I heard another story about Tom driving Arnold’s Cadillac without permission. He left the driver door wide open on the side of the highway, not paying attention to traffic and he lost the door when it was hit by another car. Their stories are a subject for another book. With Arnold’s business acumen and Tom’s extraordinary sales ability, it was a match made in heaven. When they got together, however, all hell would break loose.
Now that autumn was here, and the kids were back in school, our routine was well established. Tom would arise before dawn to work out in our fully equipped home gym. He was very proud of the fact that he was doing 100 rollouts with the wheel core abdominal roller every morning. Sometimes on the weekends, he would do 100 while Shani sat on his back. He would bring me freshly brewed coffee to bed, a gesture I truly appreciated. While he showered, I would lay out his suit, shirt, and tie for the day. I liked the fact that in this era of “work casual” Tom remained “old school” in dressing for work each day. And I loved being the one to choose his attire.
While Tom was getting dressed, I prepared the kids for school. I packed them a healthy lunch. Combined with the other low-fat meals I fed them it has paved their way to a healthy diet they have maintained into adulthood.
Our choice of a neighborhood when we moved to Pittsburgh turned out to be a good one. I developed close friendships with Kelly and Namrita, who each had children close to the ages of Yarden and Shani. The home was situated in the
respected Fox Chapel School District which provided excellent educational opportunities.
Yarden was in middle school. It was apparent he was brilliant but not necessarily geared to the academic curriculum of the school system. He was also developing into a fantastic athlete. Yarden excelled as a gymnast, at parkour, and at soccer. His most significant achievement came when he translated those skills to snowboarding, skateboarding, and rollerblades. Soon he would rollerblade to downtown Pittsburgh, 7 miles away.
Still only 11 years old, and in fifth grade, Shani was already reaching new heights in her age group in her third year of rhythmic gymnastics. For now, one of my roles in life was a “rhythmic mom.”
My days were incredibly busy. Besides my role as a rhythmic mom, providing support and transportation seven days a week, I was still involved in the Fairview Elementary school PTA, I was active in organizing activities for the Fox Chapel area Jewish community. As well, I acted as home secretary for Tom’s business. Though I was not involved with the financial activities, I knew enough to realize that life was as financially comfortable as I ever hoped it could be.
That is why the bombshell that would follow significantly changed my life.
The financial crisis of 2007–2008, is considered by many economists to have been the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression of the 1930s.
Tom walked in drained of color or words. Neither had ever happened before. I was rightfully concerned. I have been through news flashes from my mom. “I have lung cancer,” she said. The way Tom looked, I thought those were the words he was going to share with me.
Knowing better than to push, I let him relax and organize his thoughts. I prepared dinner. I waited patiently for him to break the news. After dinner, I served Tom a glass of wine and went to the top floor with Yarden and Shani to help them prepare for the following school day, shower and bed.
When I came back down to the main floor, Tom was still restless. He looked like a ghost. I looked straight into his eyes and said “Spill it. What’s wrong?”. Almost in tears, he said, “We lost it all.” Puzzled, I asked, “lost what?” Tom replied, “All of our savings, EVERYTHING is gone.” I did not realize I was holding my breath up to that point, because I let out a sigh of relieve. After all, it was a loss of money and not health.
I believe in paying the bills first and investing with the rest. Tom preferred investments for growth first. “You grow your money then pay the mortgage,” he said. “When I am gone I want you and the kids to be set for life.” We did well financially. I wanted to pay off the mortgage. We managed to save close to half a million. For me to be set for life is to have no future bills and enough for Yarden and Shani’s education. We had a heated argument about it. Tom won. Tom promised to give me 50% of the mortgage balance at the end of the year. Yes, 2008. And cover it at the end of 2009.
With the news, college savings were hurt badly. Tom wanted to pull out the small sum of money that remained. I did win that argument by not letting him touch the money. I continued to deposit monthly amounts to help strengthen it again. In later years when Shani started college, I managed to pay her first year in full. I see it as success vs. not having anything at all. The fact that her student loans will be 1/4 less than the total amount is a positive.
With Tom’s announcement that our savings and investments were all gone, we were back to square 1. I could say “I told you so.” Sometimes I enjoyed saying it. But with Tom being emotionally distressed and frustrated it was not the right time or thing to say. I just looked at him and said, “We did it before, we will do it again.” It was challenging because his income was not as high. We adjusted our expenses from the luxury lifestyle. I made sure Tom understood that I am not blaming him for the loss of money. But I did point out that he may want to reduce his ego level.
Tom’s gambling problem surfaced after the crash. He felt that he could get our losses back. Chasing his losses only made the situation worse. He played cards with friends. Sometimes it was in our home. A group of guys would come and make it a social evening. But it got to be more than that, and out of control. I did not know he was having an issue controlling his gambling. At first, he said he would come home late, after work. Then he had an unusual amount of “out of town” work trips. Although we had an excellent relationship, and were very much in love, with Tom having a history of being a womanizer, I thought he had a mistress, and I was getting to be “too old” for him. After all, I was 36 years old!
One phone call from a credit card company made it clear to me. My first call was to my mom. In detail, I told her what was happening financially in my nest. I valued my mother’s opinions and wanted to hear what she had to say about confronting Tom, taking in consideration his enormous ego. After talking to mom, we were on the same page. I felt more comfortable calling Tom. I said, “we are going out for dinner tonight.” I was thinking to myself that if it got heated, we would have to keep it civilized.
I confronted Tom. I showed him the summary of my conversation with the credit card company. It was clear to me that it needed to be addressed and controlled. My husband made a 6 figure income. There is no reason why we could not work out a solution. After lengthy discussion and many tears from both of us, I was hurt by the fact that Tom deceived me and tried to hide it. He was relieved that I figured it out and sincerely apologized. I cut his credit card in the restaurant. We agreed on a weekly budget for gambling. One could argue about a rehab option. We were so fragile. I believe that if I had pointed the finger at him, and blamed him for anything else, it would have only made the situation worse.
I was clear about my plans to pay the mortgage when we can. And my resentment about gambling with our income. Unfortunately, we could not catch up with our losses nor pay off the house. Like most of us, we made lifestyle changes and started to rebuild again.
Sex and money are two of the leading causes of divorce. We had no problems with the first and made the second our strength and not our weakness. We both valued our relationship above and beyond money. It was not a smooth sail, but it was worth fighting the waves.
There is a saying in Hebrew “Tzarot Ba’ot Be’tzrorot” meaning troubles are coming in a chain of events.
In September 2008, Avi, who was Moshe’s dear friend, told me that Moshe had lung cancer. I had high hopes for his speedy recovery, of course. My mom is a lung cancer survivor. What I did not know was, that there is a more curable type of lung cancer, until I found out that Moshe had the bad one. He was fighting it in a way that only Moshe could.
Also in 2008 at 14, a dark cloud fell on Yarden. My sweet, active boy, grew “devil horns” and all hell broke loose. He answered back, did not follow anything we said, “I know” was the only thing he would say. Yarden started hanging out with the wrong crowd. He barely passed from term to term. He would sneak out at night, lied about everything. Tom and I had to deal with that, knowing that somewhere underneath the costume there is a hidden Yarden. Things changed from bad to worse. In 11th grade I caught Yarden smoking grass. “Where did you get it” I asked. “At school, everyone is smoking”. I called Yarden’s father and explained what is going on, so he would be in the loop. He called Yarden and told him that’s “it is ok to smoke in moderation”, when clearly the boy was out of control. I did not share anything with him after that, until the day I took Yarden to the police station. I called school and made sure it was going to be searched for drugs. Yarden came home angry, and said “all my friends hate you”. “My job is to be your mother, not your friends’ friend” I answered. Yarden started to sneak out at night. I installed a lock on the door outside is room. He jumped out the second floor window. One day I locked the entire house and left the Sunroom door open. I left him a blanket on the couch and a note saying “next time this room will be locked as well”. Yarden would bring friends. They drank from the bar. I would find half-empty bottles under the sink in his bathroom.
We hit the bottom when I found out that Yarden stole all our jewe
lry that was not in the safe. That was most of what we had including very sentimental pieces. A bracelet that my dad gave my mom, a pendant that my dad gave me for my 18th birthday, before I joined the army. Tom’s lion costume pendant and many more. Yarden did not cooperate when he was asked the location of the jewelry. I cried so hard that day. My son was a criminal and out of control. Tom was so hurt, he did not say a single word. He just cried that night. Shani could not comprehend how her brother could do this to us. I decided to put an end to all of this. I called Indiana township police station. I explained to them the situation. I asked if they can track the jewelry. Also I wanted to know if I can bring Yarden to the station and have the officer scare him. I did not want to file a complaint. My fear was to ruin my son’s future just because he is a damn teenager. The officers in Indiana Township were very understanding. They helped as much as they could. I finally tracked Yarden, and took him to the police station. He was with the officer in the room alone for a few hours, while the other officer helped search for the jewelry in their system. We missed the jewelry by a day. It was all melted and gone. As planned ahead of time with the officers, Yarden was on 6 weeks “home detention”. When we returned home, I looked straight in Yarden’s eyes and said “you, go away! I want my son back, I want my boy”. I pulled Yarden out of school. He was halfway through 11th grade. We started homeschooling. When Yarden learned that he is going to be trapped with me at home for 6 weeks he said “I am quitting school”. “Over my dead body,” I answered.
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In September 2009, I realized that the man that I respected so much was living on borrowed time. I talked to Tom, my second spouse, about my feelings and frustrations. I feared that I would never see Moshe again—an impossible, heartbreaking thought. After exhausting our options, and with much excitement, we decided that in spite of the bad timing financially, I should fly back to Israel to visit Moshe and say goodbye. Just before my Dad passed away, there were so many things I wanted to tell him, but I had not gotten the chance. I wanted to know why he was so harsh and tough with people, why he could not be gentle like he is with my son, Yarden. I wanted to hug him more than just when we said hello and goodbye. I can remember Dad showing emotion five times since I was born. The first, when mom casually did what he recommended and went thru the door and the gate and never came back. Second, when Dad gave me away at my wedding. Third, when Or, my niece, was born. Fourth, when Yarden was born and Dad had the honor of being his Godfather. Dad had tears coming down his cheeks and his hands were shaking when he held Yarden in the Bʼrith. I knew then we did the right thing by asking Dad to be Yardenʼs Godfather. The guests standing around him were worried that Dad would drop Yarden. I assured them that there is no way dad will let any harm come to Yarden as long as he lives. I was right. The last one; when I came back from Germany with pictures of his baby brotherʼs grave. The rest of the time he was either angry or hiding his emotions, and all I wanted to do was to understand why. I was determined not to make the same mistake twice. Although with Moshe there were different closures, we still had lots to talk about. I made up my mind to talk to Moshe and tell him what was on my mind, to thank him for the days he taught me, and even for the days he was rough to the point that I did not want to see him ever again. I wanted to have a conversation with him once more. Moshe was taller than the average man, but his presence always made him seem larger-than-life. He was well built with salt and pepper hair and strong worker hands, which seemed slightly dirty even when they were clean. He was still working a full schedule, so it was not urgent to fly to Israel immediately. We worked the calendar and booked the trip for October 3rd.
Triumph Over Tears Page 8