Die gesichte von meine Mutter.

My mother is the shortest one in the bunch. Also the one with the highest heel shoes. I call this photo "Fleeing The Nazi's in High Heel Shoes".
In 1936 the persecution of Jews was reaching a crescendo and many were attempting to flee to a place where their lives would simply not be in danger. Some had made the proper arrangements in other countries that would allow them imigrate. Others were not so lucky and felt locked in spiraling despair. My Mother were one of the ones who had no relatives in America or contacts to help her make the preparations for a journey to survival and freedom.
One day while accompanying a friend to a boat in Hamburg that was going to take this girl to NYC. They both felt that they may never see eachother again. It was a moment that many could only imagine. A friend took the above photo for a memory. I am sharing it with all of you.
As her friend was boarding and my Mother was tearfully waving goodbye she was approached by a middle aged man who spoke German like a foreigner. He asked if my Mother had any made any plans to leave Germany. She said no and he explained that he is an American Lawyer and he would help her. He took all the necessary contact information and said that he would see what he could. He would be soon be in touch. He was the last person to walk up the platform before the boat launched the harbor. She watched the big ship leave the Hamburg docks and with plumes of exhaust become a dot on the horizon. Her best friend is sailing away and with her a stranger who sparked some hope.
In this case time passes slowly. The political situation in Germany grows more severe everyday. It was frighening to walk on the streets. He Uncles shoe store had its windows broken. All the shoes were removed and he no longer felt safe to open the store to make a living. My Mother was a religious woman and I can still feel her daily prayers as she asked for help from above.
The Stranger was serious and when he arrived back in his NYC Park Ave office he was busy contacting embassies and writing documents until he obtained a Visa for my Mother to come to NYC. As required he arranged for her to have a job providing a means of support. When my Mother arrived on these shores she immediatley started to work as a live in Nanny for a family on West End Ave. I remember my Mother telling me the story. The little girl she took care of was aptly named Faith.
Later on in years My Mom took me to meet the man responsible for bringing my Mother to America. She proudly introduced me to Murray Sprung her benefactor who never asked for anything in return.
I think that this was one of the proudest and happiest moments of my Mothers life.

Roastin in Orange

There was a whole lot of stinking fun this past weekend at Forsters Farm. The garlic growers of the North Quabbin served up their finest fare. Many varieties and colors of the delicious bulb were on display and purchased. Even served Garlic Ice Cream. They also had maple sugar cotton candy, roasted chili peppers and cider donuts. Many local artists dislplayed their well made crafts.
Great entertainment. Including performers (gaia roots) who said that "drumming and dancing are their passion." They traveled all over the continents to exotic places to learn dances from world masters. Dar Willliams a prolific and beautiful song writer sang and accompanied herself on the main stage. A powerful stage presence she held the crowd of over a thousand in the palm of her hand. Thanks Dar for making it back to Western MA for this cool event.
Parking was crowded and many had to park down the road from the event. As I was walking up the rather steep hill I was reminded of my time at Woodstock. This time it did not rain and the September sunshine comfortably warmed the green field. The entire experience put on by the fine folk of Seeds of Change was so cool I think that I had the best fun I had at a festival since the seventies.

Five years ago....

This is a real photo taken on September 11 2001 of a group of young people in New Jersey enjoying a late summer day while the tragedy unfolded on the other side of river in NYC. To me it symbolizes how far have we come since Muhammad Atta and company deliberately crashed those passenger planes into the towers. With the exception of those who were directly touched by falling concrete, burned in flames or smothered by the dust for the most part we have moved on. The economy did not collapse, nor did the nation implode. Surviving even prospering despite the anthrax & color coded warnings of homeland security. The world stage reacting to this tragic act was at first sympathetic now has turned hostile toward our country and its leaders. Our current struggle is with the wrong turn we took in Iraq and how to find a better path.

Our world was rocked that day. September 11 has become a touchstone for all Americans. On Monday ask those around you where you were on that day and no doubt you will hear a long story of how this historic event impacted their lives. People feel very personally affected by this act of terrorism.
I believe that we should adapt September 11 as a National day of remembrance to pause and reflect on what happened and how we can continue to nationally heal in a positive, progressive way without damaging the democratic ideals that we all hold so dear.

Everything is illuminated in the light of the past.

In Messel there his house covered in Ivy.
In Messel there was a magnificent canyon that he rescued from being filled with trash and debris.
In Messel we swam in deep cold water on hot day.
In Messel the Schlosser held a key to the past and showed us the photos.
In Messel we drank our first German bier that quenched our thirst with a yeasty head and we grazed on ripe rye growing tall in its fields.
In Messel we met the folks that knew us before we were born and we listened to stories abour our grandparents.
In Messel we saw the house we lived in for 230 years.
In Messel the legend was exposed transforming the shadows into stone.

Regards from Holzhausegasse 37. "Gutte."