"Write down this vision; clearly inscribe it on tablets so one may easily read it." (Hab 2:2)
For whatever reason, there’s only a single picture of Oma Ida and me, a keepsake I’ve always cherished throughout my life. She’s the only grandparent I’ve met in person; all others had long passed on when I was born. My life with her began on a hot summer day when my mother labored to bring … Continue reading Molded after Oma Ida.
When I started this blog a couple of years ago, one of my early posts is called A WOMAN FROM THE EAST. It’s Klara’s story, but also mine. 1945, fleeing the Russian attacks of their hometown near Breslau in the historic region of Silesia, a trek of refugees from the East swept into our village. … Continue reading Fresh tears over a story from the past.
A bag full of tapes. The leather bag was heavy. It was a gorgeous, hand-made Haitian bag made from stiff, golden-brown leather. Some 35 years ago, I saw it in a shop and fell in love with its stylish appearance, ideal for traveling. I was so proud of my beautiful piece of luggage and so … Continue reading The old stuff, and what’s attached to it.
Grandma Ida’s house was not really that large. But too big for a widow living by herself, decided the mayor. “Sorry, Madam, but you must take some of them.” “How many?” she asked, fully knowing there’s nothing much she could do. The ending war just swept a wave of refugees from the East into the … Continue reading A woman from the East
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