WILL IT EVER END?

I was reading a story the other day written by a holocaust survivor and I thought about a day in 1946, when I was a little boy of eight. I was at my maternal grandparent's house where my mother, brother and I went to meet our cousin, who had just arrived from Europe. He was 18.

His name was Eddie and all the family was there to meet him. Maybe 20 people in all. Eddie was a young man about 6'2" tall and weighed approximately 90 lbs. He was a survivor of a German death camp. It is a memory I carry with me today. Even though I try to forget I cannot nor should I because the only way to avoid it from happening again is to remember.

50,000,000 Chinese died at the hands of Mao
23,000,000 Russians died at the hands of Stalin
12,000,000 Civilians, 6,ooo,ooo jews at the hands of Hitler
5,000,000 civilians at he hands of Tojo
2,500,000 Armenians, Greeks & Assyrians by the Turks
1,700,000 at the hands of Pol Pot in Cambodia

And on and on and on to this very minute in Africa, Asia the Middle East, and I haven't even mentioned the Native Americans at the hands of the Europeans and the Vietnamese and Korean civilians by the U. S. We are not innocent and we all have blood on our hands. Why can't we stop? Is all this necessary? Is mankind condemned to forever kill his own brothers? It seems so.

When I was a boy Eddie came to visit and he once told me a story. When the Nazi's came for him, they put him on a truck and started to drive away. His little brother started to run after him yelling "Eddie, Eddie wait for me." He was the last of his immediate family he ever saw again.
His last memory was of a Nazi soldier throwing his brother to the ground beating him in the head with his rifle. He never saw any of his immediate family again.

Maybe this is too tough to take for some readers and for that I humbly apologize. But it's the way I felt today and I had to put it in words and hope things will change. I like to think they will.

As Thanksgiving is just around the corner, let's give thanks for what we have and hope more people throughout the world will be able to have a little more next year and they can also be thankful.

WENDY, A DOGS TALE

When we bought a house, as we had some land, I thought we should have a dog to share it with. I was in a department storeone day and they had a pet shop where local people used to bring litters of puppies, which their dogs had given birth to, for adoption. They usually were mutts and the store charged $5.00 each. I saw a litter and they looked adorable. One in particular, seemed to connect with me more than the others. She was the only female out of a litter of six. I went home and asked Eunice if we should get a dog and she sort of said no, but I asked her to come with me to the store and look at them. She agreed and the next day we went. There weren't 6 pups anymore, there was only one. Amazingly, she was the one I wanted. It's almost as if she was waiting for me to come back. The people who brought her for adoption were there also, as they were going to bring her home if no one took her. I picked up the pup and asked Eunice to hold her. She did and it was love at first sight. She wanted this dog so we took her home. I spoke to the former owners and they said she was part terrier and part other parts.

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I used to volunteer to do work at the Guiding Eyes for the Blind and was very friendly with the Head Trainer of the Guide Dogs. He told me Wendy was mostly Border Collie. I was happy because Border Collies are considered the most intelligent breed and as it turned out, she was smarter than me. I didn't mind as most females are more intelligent than me anyway. She was a wonderful dog. She was housebroken in a few days. She loved to run and play and bark and have a good old time. And boy, was she smart. She loved to ride in the car and we had to take her with us whenever we could. She was also very protective. I could leave her in the car with the windows rolled down and if anyone other than we used to go near the car, she would bark, growl and bare her fangs. When we went to the beach in Cape Cod , we would take her with us and she would run all over the place but always made sure she kept us in sight. She loved the water and used to swim with us off the boat and she used to sit on the bow of the boat as we rode. She guarded the boat as she did the car. If we were on the beach we would leave our stuff with her and she would sit there until we came back and guard it. You couldn't get near it.

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The years went by and one day I was relaxing. Wendy kept bringing me her Frisbee and barking to go out and play with it. She was a great Frisbee player. She would leap high in the air, catch it in mid-flight and come down running with it in her mouth. She almost never missed. I didn't want to go out so I took her ball and threw it down the hall. She ran after it, got and brought it back for more. After a while, I had it. I told her to lie down and leave me alone. Finally all was quiet and I was able to relax a little. Then I heard "ka-plop, ka-plop, ka-plop", over and over and I heard Wendy running down the stairs, running up the stairs, down and up, down and up. What the hell is going on? So I slowly walked down the hall to see what she was doing. Much to my amazement, Wendy had figured out a way to play a game with herself. I saw her run up the stairs with the ball in her mouth, fling it with a shake of her head, down the stairs, run down, pick it up and repeat the procedure over and over again. I told you she was intelligent.

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Wendy lived to the ripe old age of 16+ years. We had fun almost the entire time. I really loved that dog.

BOTTOMS UP

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In the '70's I owned and operated an Insurance Brokerage firm in Westchester County, New York. One of my employees, we'll call her Mary, worked in the collection department. Her job was to collect premiums due if they were late. Mary would call or write to clients so that their payments were sent in before their policies cancelled due to non-payment.
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She was always on time but wore a heavy perfume which I didn't particularly like, but I guess she did. As the day wore on I noticed that in the afternoon her speech slurred a bit and while I did not actually smell liquor on her breath, she appeared to more and more show signs of having a few. She didn't go out for lunch and ate in the office and I never saw any evidence of her imbibing. Her work was satisfactory and never did I have any suspicions of her mishandling any money. However, I felt I had to speak to her and tell her my suspicion that she was somehow drinking on the job and if she had a problem with alcohol, she should tell me and perhaps we could get her some help.
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Mary swore to me that she never drank while she was working and told me that she never would. I said OK, but if I found out she was lying to me I would have to let her go. Not for drinking, but for lying.
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Things went along for about a month with no problem, but she still seemed to me to be drinking during working hours. As was normal, I usually stayed late each evening for a couple of hours to check everything and do paperwork which fell behind. I usually kept some soda in the refrigerator and I was a little thirsty one night so I went for a soda, but was all out. I noticed a large bottle of orange juice. I figured nobody would mind if I took a small glass so I poured a little, went back to my office and, you guessed it, had the greatest screwdriver I ever had. At least the strongest anyway. The next day I asked who's orange juice that was and someone confirmed that it was Mary's.
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Poor Mary, I knew what I had to do but it wasn't easy. I explained to her if she hadn't lied to me we could have worked something out. She understood and said goodbye. And she asked if she could have her orange juice back. So I gave it to her and said goodbye and good luck.
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I had never fired anyone before and it wasn't easy. The least she could have done was offered me a drink once in a while. What is the moral of this story? Be nice to your boss and offer him a drink on occasion or don't lie. You figure it out.

THE WATER SKIER

One day I noticed in the local "Penny saver" what looked like a real good buy for a speedboat. I knew Eunice always wanted a boat to use in summer to be kept at the swim club we belonged to at Lake Mahopac. As I had a little extra cash,
I asked Eunice if we should look at it and if we liked it, buy it. She jumped at the chance and we called the owner, who was a local policeman, if we could take a look at it. Well, it was kept in his garage and all the time he had when not on the job, he polished and cleaned it. *************

Suffice it to say, it was in immaculate condition and was a beautiful little boat. it was an almost new Silverline, 19' long with an 80 HP outboard engine. The boat was fully loaded and ready to go, the price was right and we decided to buy it on the spot. I gave him the cash, took my car to get a trailer hitch put on, came back, hooked it up and drove it to the lake. We rented a slip, launched it and it floated. The engine started right up so we went for a spin. *************************************************************

Eunice was ecstatic. There was a pair of Water Skis and all the paraphernalia that goes with it so Eunice said she has to learn to water ski. Well, the next day she gave it a shot. She got in the water, got all hooked up, and I started to move. Eunice came up about halfway out of the water and plopped back in again. She just couldn't do it. We decided to take the boat to cape Cod for a couple of weeks and did the following week. We got a mooring in little Pleasant Bay and I called a Ski instructor to make an appointment the next day. He merely showed her one thing and she was up and skiing. He noticed she was coming up and out of the water with her knees and arms bent, so he told her to lean back and to keep her knees and arms straight, relax and let the boat pull her out of the water. It worked the first time and she was skiing all over the place. She was a natural. The only thing that got her out of the water after that was when the lake froze.********

Eunice wrote a poem so let her tell you her experience. It's called THE WATER SKIER********

Emerald pools surround me.
Muscles expand and then contract,
Blood rushes,
Suddenly, I am thrust up and out,
as if being born;
The rope holds tight,
like a maternal cord,
Guiding me as I fly.
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The sun lies upon my back,
like wings, that open and close,
pushing me forward,
towards flying geese,
Past bending trees,
I am the wind,
I am the sea,
Gliding on painted glass.
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The rope breaks,
I fall, deep, into darkness,
into sleep,
falling.
A force holds me,
Then floats me towards the sky,
Releasing me in the air,
Where a butterfly,
dances with the breeze,
and dissapears,
Journeying to another life...
Reborn...
Set free...
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Eunice Verdi, Lake Mahopac, 1972

SARA'S BIRDS

**************************************** Eunice had an Uncle Hyman who she was vey fond of. He passed away. His wife's name was Sara and they were very close and together for many, many years. Hy was the older brother of Eunice dad.

Sara was a very shy and withdrawn woman and had few friends. Hy was her life. Eunice and I were friendly with them because Eunice had a knack of becoming friendly with even the most withdrawn people. She was drawn to them and they to her. Eunice had a profound empathy for people's feelings. She identified with them because Eunice had similar childhood experiences and she was very sensitive. *************************************************************************************
As is the case in many instances, when people are very close and their partner is the closest person in their lives, they tend to lose their will to live. That's the way it was with Sara, even though we tried to bring her into our lives. After a short while Sara became ill and passed on. We knew she wanted to be with her beloved Hy and that's what she chose. The following poem was written shortly after Sara's funeral be my dear, sweet Eunice. She titled it

"SARA'S BIRDS."

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On a cold February morning,
When the north wind howls,
Then blows the trees hunched-back
with arms bent over...
Sara joined her lover in a silent sleep,
Among the shadows, straight and gray,
Under the stars.
On Valentine's day...
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On a snowy, February morning,
on Summer's cold and lonely porch,
I tempted nature with seeds and corn...
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Squirrels came, their furry tails
fan-dancing in the wind,
their cheeks full...
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A crow came...
his black, sleek body reflected the sun,
With feathers that stretched,
then arched'
then flew away...
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A cardinal, his red coat flaming,
set the snow on fire...
Chickadees sang, They merrily danced
from tree to tree...
And two Mourning Doves, walked closely
together, a couple...
They looked at me with doe-like faces...
And left footprints upon the white floor,
Their lasting tribute to the falling snow..
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From the heavens they came...
Sara's birds.
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written by
Eunice Verdi
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This was always one of my favorites. It really is Eunice.

ANCIENT TREE

My wife, Eunice, was a keen observer of nature. When we went to the beach, she would examine the effects of the tides on the creatures left behind by outgoing tide. She carried binoculars to watch and record the different types of birds which would feed at the many feeding stations she would have in different areas of the yard. She watched the progress of the many trees and plants I put in the ground. She would watch for visitors, white-tailed deer, raccoons, skunks, squirrels, chipmunks and many others who would come to eat and live on our property Eunice would observe how the changes in season affected everything.

When something happened she would write wonderfully descriptive poems using nature as metaphors for what she felt. In a way, I guess I was an observer of Eunice. One day she took me to an overlook to watch Bald Eagles who were nesting and fishing in the river below. That's another story.

Eunice was brought up by her grandmother who lived with us. When her grandma died Eunice wrote many poems about how she felt. The following work is the way Eunice combined both nature and her grandma. I hope you'll enjoy it.

ANCIENT TREE

Ancient tree, aged bones cracked and bent

Branches that twist and grope, reach out,

Beckon me...

I come closer and the ground rumbles from

Beneath, with roots like wooden snakes, which

Fold and then unfold, in grotesque design,

Like pythons ready to strike, they guard their

Treasure, their sacred tree...

I touch its pitted skin, and

Whisper, who put you here years before,

Tell me all you know...

Silent is this remnant from the past,

No brain, no voice, dead...

Suddenly, it looms its head into the air

Arms and legs, thrashing, bombard me

From above,

And on the ground,

Shadows flashing, Black and white,

Attack me in the wind...

I stand motionless,

A prisoner of nature's war...

The wind slows and rocks the shadows

To sleep,

The tree nods lazily,

It knows the secrets of the past...

And lets me go.

By Eunice Verdi.