The Ace of Her Heart

Thought for the day:  Not all heroes wear capes. 

[Flame, superhero of the 1930s and '40s-  wikipedia]

It's true. It's fun to read about cartoon superheroes, and to see them come alive on the screen, but the real heroes in life don't need... or want... a spiffy outfit or cape, because they generally don't want to draw attention to themselves.

One definition of hero is someone who risks personal harm to protect and serve others, like firefighters, police officers, and members of the military. As you know, we're losing more and more World War II veterans every day, so I think it's important to share some of their stories from time to time, so we can remember their places in history.

I'm gonna tell you about one such man today. His name? Louis Curdes, and he didn't  need no stinking cape,  because that hero man was a brilliant aviator. Matter of fact, he was an ace, and he also bears the rather unusual distinction of being the only person who has ever been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for shooting down... his girlfriend.

[Louis Curdes, with his plane Bad Angel]

Intrigued?

Good. That's the idea.

Curdes was already an ace with a ton of war and flying experiences, including being shot down and escaping from an Italian POW camp, when our story opens. Following their mission to attack Japanese positions on the island of Bataan in the Philippines, one squad member, low on fuel, had flown back to base, one had been shot down, and was floating in the water on a rubber dinghy, another was flying at a higher altitude, trying to summon a rescue plane by radio, and Curdes was flying a low-altitude pattern above his fallen friend, prepared to protect him, and provide cover, if need be.

[C-47 transport plane- wikipedia]

Another plane approached from the distance, and as it got closer, Curdes could see that it was a C-47 transport plane, AKA jungle jumper, bearing U.S. markings. It lowered its landing gear, clearly signalling its intention to land on the Japanese-controlled island. Curdes had heard horrific stories about the fate of people captured by the Japanese, so he simply couldn't  let that plane land. He tried to contact the pilot via radio, but to no avail. He dove in front of the plane several times, but the C-47 continued its descent. He fired a warning burst of machine gun fire across the other plane's nose, but that didn't work, either. So what could he do?

[50-caliber machine gun in  Bad Angel's wing]

The only thing he could do. 

He shot it down. 

First, he took out one engine... and then the other. The C-47 pilot had no choice but to ditch the plane into the ocean, where it settled close to the other fallen aviator's dinghy. Soon, all twelve occupants of the C-47 were floating beside him on life rafts. Curdes dropped a note down to them, saying, For God's sake, keep away from shore. Japs there. 

Only three WWII flying aces shot down planes of all three Axis powers, but only one of them, Louis Curdes, also shot down an American plane, thereby saving everyone on board.

Two of them were nurses.

One of the nurses was his date from the night before.

They later married.

 I guess you could say she really fell  for him... like a shot outta the sky.

Curdes' plane, as she appears today, at the Pima Air and Space Museum, in Tucson, Arizona. 

Indiana native Louis Curdes retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1963. In his twenty-two years of service, he earned many medals,  including the Distinguished Flying Cross, Purple Heart, and numerous flying awards. When he died in 1995, Senator Richard Lugar delivered a fitting tribute  on the Senate floor. In the senator's words, Curdes was truly an example and inspiration for all who follow him.

 Okay, so maybe this song isn't the perfect choice to go with this post, but it's stuck in my head, so in an attempt to get it out, I'm gonna share. Besides, it's never a bad time to listen to something that makes your toes tap and your heart sing...

You know, there are things other than danger that can define a hero. For example, I find it bordering on heroic for someone to work a job (s)he hates, day-in, day-out, without complaint... because that's what (s)he has to do to support a family. Maybe your husband or wife? Your parent? You? Appreciate their efforts, and value your own.That kinda love makes the world go around.

 Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. [Franklin P. Jones]
                                                              Okay, I sit corrected.                                   
                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. 

NOTE: Next week's post will be on WEDNESDAY, in conjunction with the monthly Insecure Writer's Support Group confab. If you've been thinking about signing up, it isn't too late. Go ahead! You know you wanta... so do it right here

A Beacon in the Darkness

Thought for the day: You know you're getting old when the candles cost more than the cake. (sigh)

[Morguefile]

It's that time of year again. (Already!) If you folks in the southeastern part of the United States happen to see a massive glow in the sky tomorrow, fear not. It'll just be the blaze atop my birthday cake, assuming we take the chance on lighting all those candles. Aaah, probably not. The fire department must be getting tired of coming by the house every year to extinguish the bonfire. The truth is, I'm creeping closer to that age where there will once again be a single candle perched atop my cake, and everybody will tell me what a good girl I am if  I can summon enough whoosh to blow it out in one try. Know what? Might be best to skip the cake altogether, and just have a glass of wine.

Hey! I'm OLD. I can do that if I wanta.

Anyhow, I won't be around to respond to your comments tomorrow, and I'm not gonna write a new post for today, either. (What a rebel!) Instead, I'm going to do a wee bit of editing, and share a re-run, which originally appeared in December of 2012 as One Candle. Because sometimes a single candle is all it takes to conquer the darkness...

                           Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. You at your wit's end trying to figure out what to give some of the senior citizens on your Christmas list? Would you like a suggestion? A hand-picked selection of greeting cards for various occasions (very inexpensive at places like the Dollar Store) is a super thoughtful and useful gift. Throw in some stamps, a couple pens, and maybe some pretty note cards or writing paper, and you're sure to make that special elderly neighbor or friend a happy camper. Or how about a book? Maybe... Old Broads Waxing Poetic? Not only is it a fun collection of poetry, but all proceeds from sales go to CARE International. Or (ahem) Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade? Good for all ages, and hey! if I sell enough books, I might be able to treat Smarticus to a nice dinner out over the Holidays. Heck, maybe even get him fries to go with his burger...

Now then, moving right along. Where was I! Oh yeah, about that single candle...

*********************

Thought for the day:  It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.  [Chinese proverb]

[Morguefile]

Can the light from a single candle make a difference? Can one person radiate enough light to hold the powers of darkness at bay?

Yes, a thousand times yes. Or to be more accurate, 2500 times.

Hanukkah, an eight-day festival celebrating the triumph of light over darkness, of purity over adulteration, and spirituality over materialism, begins next Tuesday. To all who are Jewish, I wish you a very happy Hanukkah. For the rest of us, I believe we, too, should embrace the ideals of light over darkness. 

Here's a story of a very special woman who did just that.

[Wikipedia]

Her name? Irena Sendler. This is what she looked like in 1942, when the young Polish Catholic woman lived in German-occupied Warsaw. As a social worker and nurse, she was allowed to enter the Jewish ghetto. She saw their suffering first-hand, and knew that people of all ages were being  forcibly removed from their homes, never to return. And she also knew what the penalty was for trying to help them.

[Wikipedia]

She knew what the penalty was, because signs like this were posted all over Warsaw. 

These signs issued a clear warning that helping anyone leave the Jewish settlement without authorization was punishable by death.

And yet...

[credit: German Federal Archive]

And yet, the dark plight of the children tore at her heartstrings, and she had to DO something. As a member of the Zegota resistance movement, she smuggled 2500 children out of the Warsaw ghetto, provided them with false identities, and got them to a safe location... to private homes, to orphanages, to convents. She took the children out in ambulances, under the pretext that they were infected with typhus; she carried them out in tool boxes; she transported them in coffins. Whatever it took, she did it. One after another, desperate parents turned their beloved children over to her, a virtual stranger, in the hopes that their children would be spared from the horrors of living... and dying... in a concentration camp. Each child's name, Sendler recorded on paper, along with their new identities and locations. Then she tucked those papers into jars, which she buried under an apple tree in her yard. Following the war, the information in those jars was used to reunite some of the families. Unfortunately, most of the parents were already gone, but thanks to Sendler and other members of the resistance, their children survived.

[Wikipedia]

In 1965, Israel recognized Sendler as Righteous Among the Nations, a designation honoring non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jews. And risk her life, she did: Sendler was captured, tortured, and sentenced to death... and spared from execution by virtue of a bribe. The Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations is part of the Yad Vashem complex on the Mount of Remembrance in Jerusalem.

[Wikipedia]

At the entrance to the Garden stands the Tree of Irena Sendler. I don't know what kind of tree is it, but an apple tree would be perfect, wouldn't it?

[credit: Mariesz Kubik]

This picture, taken in 2005, shows Sendler with the grown-up versions of some of the children she smuggled out of that Warsaw ghetto during the war.

[credit: Mariesz Kubik]

In 2007, Sendler was presented with the Order of the Smile, an international award given by children to adults distinguished in their love, care, and aid for children. A year later, she passed away.

In 2009, Poland issued a commemorative coin in honor of three women. One was Irena Sendler, a woman who proved that one person... one candle burning brightly in the darkness... can indeed, make a difference.





In a world full of darkness, in a world full of pain,
All it takes is a sparkle, all it takes is a flame,
To make joy out of sadness, to bring hope to a life,
Like the promise of the dawn
On a long winter's night.
[from the song Light One Candle, by Ronnie Spector]

                                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Let it shine! [Wikipedia]

P.S. For those of you who will be lighting menorah candles, I'll betcha you won't be doing it in such an unusual way as THIS...

Grandkids and Another Re-Run Hero

Thought for the day:  The laughter of a child is the light of a house.  [African proverb]

Armfuls of giggly sweetness: Persephone, Olivia, and Ella

We're baaaaaaack. We had a grand time in Florida with our son and his family, and ya know what? It really is true that happiness is grandchildren fighting (very sweetly, of course) over who gets to sit on your lap.

Here it is Thursday afternoon, and I finally caught up with all the comments from last week's post, but I didn't leave myself  much time to get a new post written and ready to go for tomorrow. Since so many of you commented about the amateur radio aspect of last week's post, I'm gonna do a re-run of another radio post. It was part of the A-Z challenge from 2012. I hope you enjoy it.

But first... for those of you who asked for them, a few more pictures of the grandchildren. (Since you twisted my arm...) If your eyes tend to glaze over at the prospect of looking at grandchildren pictures, scroll on down and check out the radio post. Go ahead. I won't be offended.

All five of our beautiful Florida girls. This was actually taken this past Easter, but I didn't think to herd them all together for a picture when we were down there this time around.

Ollie's favorite question: "Guess what?" (Usually followed by, "Chicken butt!" and gales of laughter.)

In case ya can't tell, our son and granddaughter Chloe were spelling WOW with their hands. (Me? I say, WOW! How the heck can we possibly have grandchildren this old?!?)

 Jordan and little brother Atlas, (AKA Bud) who was sick most of the time we were there, poor little guy. We all put in lots of rocker time with him, but he wasn't up to smiling for the camera.

Our clever daughter-in-law took this picture and added the caption. Ollie told me grandmas give LOTS of hugs and kisses, and I was more than happy to reinforce that concept. Unfortunately, the day before we left, she got sick, too.

An hour with your grandchildren can make you feel young again. Anything longer than that, you start to age quickly. [Gene Perret]

Um, no Smarticus isn't napping here. (ahem) He's just... resting his eyes. Yeah, that's it.

Do you know why children are so full of energy? Because they suck it all out of their grandparents.  [Gene Perret]

This turned out to be mostly about our granddaughters, didn't it?. Maybe next time, Atlas will be feeling up to snuff, and we'll catch up with Jacob and Joshua, too. (Yep, quite a crew...)

Okay, now let's take a gander at that old radio post. It's fairly short... Originally, it was called, A Single Signal.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thought for the day:  Like ripples from a stone tossed into a pond, the actions of a single person can sometimes change the world.

[THEME: Amateur radio]

Think KUWAIT.


Think of August 2, 1990. That's the day Iraq invaded Kuwait.

Iraqi tank on road to Kuwait. [Wikipedia]

Think of mayhem, terror, explosions. Telephone lines cut. Fear. No way for Kuwaitis outside of the country to know how the rest of their family and friends in Kuwait were doing. Were they alive, or were they dead? When would they know? How would they know? How would the world know what was going on?

[image from Abdul's QSL card]

Now, meet Abdul Jabar Marafie, amateur radio operator 9K2DZ. 

From the day of the invasion until the liberation of Kuwait nearly seven months later, Abdul, at great risk to both himself and his family, used his radio EVERY SINGLE DAY to send vital information to the outside world about what was going on in his country.

The invading Iraqis confiscated equipment from all Kuwaiti amateur radio operators, but Marafie was able to thwart their efforts by turning over some of his older equipment, while hiding other gear ... gear he could use to feed real-time information to the rest of the world. 

If you watched any news reports about Kuwait during that time and heard a reporter mention "an unknown source" of information, that reporter was talking about Marafie. Although he has received little recognition within his own country for his heroic acts, he received the American Radio Relay League (ARRL) Humanitarian Award in 1992, and is featured in an amazing documentary entitled, The Last Voice From Kuwait. (available on Youtube in three parts)

Oil fires, set by the retreating Iraqis. [Wikipedia]

Clockwise from top:
USAF planes flying over burning oil wells;
British troops;
View from Lockheed AC-130;
Highway of death;
M728 Combat Engineering Vehicle.

[Images courtesy of Wikipedia]









So, yes, think of Kuwait. And when you do, think of Abdul. A single amateur radio operator, who, with the help of a network of other amateur radio operators around the world, made a difference. A real difference.

~~~~~~
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Time's running short for you to enter this month's contest on author Carol Kilgore's blog. You can win free stuff there every month, but this month? It's an autographed copy of my novel Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade PLUS a copy of a very cool poetry book, Old Broads Waxing Poetic. Just click on the spiffy contest badge in her sidebar, and post your response to the prompt. Go ahead... it's easy! Ya can't win if you don't enter.


                                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Willie, our "grandpuppy"

Fishing for Fun and Hunting for Heroes

Thought for the day:  Good things come to those who bait.

[Morguefile]

You like to fish? There's nothing quite like being out there on the water just as the sun starts to show its sleepy face. If you've never experienced it, believe me, the under-eye bags are a small price to pay for the privilege of seeing those glorious early morning golden rays shimmer across the water.

[Morguefile]

Anyhow, NO, I'm not going fishing. It's been a lot of years since I had that particular pleasure, but maybe soon. One of the perks of being an old bag in the state of Georgia is we get a free lifetime fishing and hunting license. Cool, huh?

Nope, what we're going fishing for is... fun. With our grandchildren. Which means I'm not actually here at my computer. (Dontcha love Blogger's auto-post feature?) Just because I'm unplugged doesn't mean I'm gonna leave y'all high and dry, though. Nope, I'm gonna leave you with an oldie but goodie rerun. The following was originally posted on November 9, 2011 as Veteran Heroes Get it Done. I hope you enjoy it... along with a few updates.

~~~~~~~

Thought for the day:  As you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary. [Ernest Hemingway]

me, at an Atlanta science museum

When you spoke to him on the air, he was JY1, and he had as much fun on amateur radio as anyone else you contacted. Off the air, the friendly Hussein was King Hussein of Jordan. (For a while, he and I even ran the same radio, a Drake TR-7. Pretty cool, huh?)

One of the fascinating aspects of amateur radio is you never know who may come back to you when you put out a call. Could be a king, sheik, politician, entertainer, singer, astronaut, or just a friendly "1938 model with a shiny top," which is how one contact described himself to me when I was operating W4WOW, the station at (now-closed) SciTrek Museum in Atlanta. Not to be a name-dropper, but ... okay, so I AM being a name-dropper ... but some names you may recognize from the amateur radio fraternity are Barry Goldwater, Walter Cronkite, Priscilla Presley, Joe Walsh, (of the Eagles), Ronnie Milsap, Chet Atkins, and Arthur Godfrey. {NOTE: In a 2014 update, actor Tim Allen just got HIS license, too.} Lots of royalty from all over the world. Lots of politicians, and lots of famous people. Since there's amateur radio gear on the International Space Station, as well as on other space crafts, most astronauts are hams, too. And they seem to get as much of a kick out of talking to us earth-bound operators as we get out of talking to them.

So, I've had the privilege of speaking to and meeting some really neat people, of hearing my echoing voice bouncing back at me from a satellite, and even shaking the president's hand. All because of amateur radio.

With Veteran's Day coming up in a couple days, I wanted to tell you about one of my favorite amateur radio experiences, the contacts I will never forget. This is the saga of a group of honest-to-goodness American heroes, who captured both my imagination and my heart. A bunch of geezers who knew how to get 'er done.

[LST 325, Normandy, 1944-Wikipedia- public domain]

In 1943, General Dwight Eisenhower said, No amphibious attack in history had approached this one in size. Along miles of coastline there were hundreds of vessels and small boats afloat and ant-like files of advancing troops ashore. 

Ike was specifically referring to a landing at Sicily, but he could just as easily have said the same about multiple other WWII amphibious landings. And in every one of those landings, the LST was a major player. An indispensable star. LST stands for Landing Ship, Tank, and those vessels were specifically designed to carry tanks, troops, and supplies directly onto enemy shores, a vital job no other vessel was capable of performing.

Fast forward to the late '90s. The non-profit organization USS LST Memorial, Inc., a 10,000-member strong group of LST veterans, wanted to acquire and restore a WWII LST as a museum for the American people. One major problem from the get-go? The United States didn't have any. The government  had already either given away, scrapped, or sold all of them to other countries. At that time, Taiwan had 23, Brazil had a couple, and some were in Mexico and the Philippines.

And as it turned out, some had also been transferred to Greece in 1964 under a Military Assistance Program. After serving as part of the Greek Navy for more than thirty years, the country had mothballed them in Crete several years earlier. Talk about serendipity. Greece was done with them. Ready to scrap 'em. So some of our heroes headed to Greece, negotiated, and picked out the LST with the strongest-looking hull. That proud old vessel, the former LST 325, laid down at the Philadelphia Navy yard and launched in 1942, commissioned in 1943, veteran of multiple campaigns in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, decommissioned in '46, and transferred to Greece in '64, was once again in American hands.

But that was just the beginning.

In July of 2000, a group of mostly WWII veterans, average age 74, went to Crete to undertake the herculean task of getting that old craft seaworthy again. In blistering heat, in the face of countless obstacles, back-breaking work, and frequent stonewalling by the Justice Department, those guys surmounted the insurmountable, and accomplished what some said was impossible.

The Crew

From the time the crew arrived in Crete, an online log chronicled the hurdles they faced, and the mostly good humor with which they faced them. That log is still available, but if you want to read it in chronological order, start at the bottom of the page and work your way up. One entry says, This ain't no job for sissies. And it truly wasn't.

The 8th of August entry reads If you want to know what it is like to be a member of the crew here in Crete, it's very easy to describe, it's hot as Hell and work all the time. (No exaggeration. Temperatures were well over one hundred on deck. Below deck, it was even hotter.)

On the 10th of August- Many needed items missing or damaged beyond use. Since there's another inactive LST tied up alongside us, the usual solution is based on the idea God helps those who help themselves. 

In spite of all the obstacles, in spite of the age and serious illnesses of some of the crew members, LST 325, refurbished and retrofitted with $25,000 worth of satellite navigational equipment, modern communications, computer gear, and life rafts, embarked on a 6500-mile voyage back to the United States on the 14th of November. Private donations of $70,000, plus a 50,000-gallon donation of diesel fuel from BP Oil Company, made the rebuild, repair, and voyage home possible, but it was the hard work and perseverance of those veterans, that crew of senior citizen sailors, that got the job done. 

In case you hadn't already guessed it, amateur radio was part of  the communications aboard that LST, and  WW2LST operated almost every day during the nearly two-month trip across the ocean. The ham originally slated to operate was unable to sail due to illness, so another amateur radio operator among the crew was drafted to pull the duty. You could almost see the twinkle in his eye when Jack Carter apologized on the air to all the hams who were so eager to talk to him, when he said he wasn't used to working pile-ups. (That's when someone puts out a call, and it sounds like half the world's population responds at the same time.) But you know what? He did a terrific job. I had the honor of listening to his conversations many times, and of speaking to him several, and he was always a delight. 

LST 325 arrived in Mobile, Alabama, on January 10, 2001, and our heroes were greeted by cheering crowds. Many newspaper articles were written about them, and the History channel even produced a program about the escapades of this never-give-up group of stubborn, wonderful veterans.

Today, the vessel is moored at its permanent berth in Evansville, Indiana. True to the aspirations of those veterans, it is a museum ship now, available for all of us to see and honor. But most of all, I honor that dauntless group of veterans who made it happen.

[LST-325 in her Evansville home port- Wikipedia]

Amateur radio operators exchange what we call QSL cards to confirm various specifics of our contacts, like date, time, radio frequency, power used, mode, rig, antenna, signal report, and often a personal note, as well. Here is the QSL card confirming my contacts with LST 325. (The MM stands for maritime mobile.)

On the back of the card, in addition to the confirmation specifics, it reads, We are sad to report that Jack Carter became a Silent Key on February 20, 2001 shortly after returning on this voyage of a lifetime.

{NOTE: 2014 update- Although Evansville is still her home port, this floating museum travels to other ports in the country to give more people the opportunity to visit this one-of-a-kind WWII LST. She was in Chattanooga, TN last month.}

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

~~~~~~

Just a reminder. The lovely Carol Kilgore is still running month-long contests on her website, and this month's swag is an autographed copy of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, as well as a copy of the sassy Old Broads Waxing Poetic. Just go to her blog and click on the spiffy contest badge in her sidebar. And not just this month... every month! It's fun... and it's FREE. What more do ya want?

Half a Century

Thought for the day: Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.  [John F. Kennedy]

When this family picture was taken in Hyannis Port in August of 1962, no one realized how little future our American president had left. And it's hard to fathom that this day, November 22, 2013, marks the fiftieth anniversary of the day he was assassinated.

Fifty years. Half a century. Yet, those of us who are old enough to remember that day remember exactly what we were doing when we heard the news. Images of that day and the days that followed are indelibly etched into our minds. Jackie's chic pink suit, splattered with blood... young John-John saluting his father's coffin... the subsequent on-camera shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald... and so much more. But fifty years? Has it really been that long since the end of Camelot?

I wasn't planning to write about this today, but the fiftieth anniversary is hard to ignore. Especially when so many newspapers and television networks are commemorating it by highlighting every detail of those days. The images already residing in our minds and psyches are being shown on TV stations all over the world today, reinforcing them and threatening to break our hearts all over again.

But I don't want to relive that horrible day. Once was enough. Personally, I'd rather think about his life.

In the 1943 picture above, that's JFK on the far right, when he was serving as commander of  PT-109. After a Japanese vessel cut the PT in half, his actions to keep his crew alive were nothing short of amazing... the stuff of legends. Things like swimming three miles to shore... while towing an injured crew member by a strap, which he held in his teeth. A star-struck young boy asked him what it was like to be a war hero, and JFK responded, "It wasn't voluntary. They sunk my boat."

                                                     Anybody remember this song? [1962]

I think one of the things we found so intriguing about this good-looking president with the broad Boston accent and silver tongue was his role as a family man. It was endearing to see his young children scampering around the White House... to see pictures of him working at his desk in the Oval Office, with John-John playing beneath it... to see him walking beside his daughter Caroline while she sat on her pony Macaroni. Even though most of us couldn't identify with his wealthy background, when we saw pictures of him playing touch football with his brothers, or saw him walking and playing with his children, he seemed like one of us. And he seemed to care... about equal rights, about the poor, about the disenfranchised.

And, man, could he ever deliver a speech. Most of us remember his words, Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country," but a whole book could be written about some of his other lesser-known utterances, too.

Like these:

*  Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer. Let us not seek to fix the blame for the past. Let us accept our own responsibility for the future.

* Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.

* Do not pray for easier lives. Pray to be stronger men.

*As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.

* When written in Chinese, the word crisis is composed of two characters. One represents danger, and the other represents opportunity.

* If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

*  Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the the discomfort of thought.

* The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining.

Then there was the famous speech he delivered in Berlin. He took quite a media hit over that one. Here's what I wrote about it in a 2011 post:

Do you remember (or have you heard about) the speech President Kennedy made in West Germany on June 26, 1963? That was just twenty-two months after the Berlin wall went up, and he attempted to express his solidarity with the people of West Germany that day. His exact words were: Ich bin ein Berliner.

Unfortunately, a Berliner happens to be a type of jelly donut made in Berlin, and following that speech, President Kennedy got a merciless ribbing in the media for allegedly making a linguistic faux pas by declaring to the German people: I am a jelly donut.  He took the worst ribbing from America's so-called liberal press, but he also made the news in other parts of the world, as well, and for years,  teachers all over America referenced this speech when instructing their German classes about the proper and improper use of the word ein. Check out what appeared as recently as 1988 in the New York Times:

It's worth recalling, again, President John F. Kennedy's use of a German phrase while standing before the Berlin Wall. It would be great, his wordsmiths thought, for him to declare himself a symbolic citizen of Berlin. Hence, Ich bin ein Berliner. What they did not know, but could easily have found out, was that such citizens never refer to themselves as 'Berliners.' They reserve that term for a favorite confection often munched at breakfast. So, while they understood and appreciated the sentiments behind the President's impassioned declaration, the residents tittered among themselves when he exclaimed, literally, "I am a jelly-filled doughnut."

— William J. Miller, I Am a Jelly-Filled Doughnut, The New York Times April 30, 1988[10]

So why bring it up now? Because I just discovered that, in fact, President Kennedy's words were absolutely correct, even if they were delivered with a Boston accent. If he had said, "Ich bin Berliner," as his critics insisted he should have, he would have sounded foolish. Obviously, with the way he mangled the German language, he was most certainly not a native of Berlin. According to multiple evaluations of the speech by Germans, the way he said it actually indicated, "I am one with the people of Berlin," which is exactly what he wanted to say. And which is exactly how the Germans received it. None of the ridicule leveled at him ever came from the Germans.

***

Yes, JFK died fifty years ago today. But I'd rather remember the smiling faces as his open-topped car crept past a cheering Dallas crowd. I don't want to remember what happened to wipe the smile off our collective face. I don't want to remember the end of our collective idealism. I don't want to remember the end of Camelot.

With thousands of other people, I was in Washington the day of the funeral procession. It was a cold clear day, and the crowd was enormous. What stands out in my mind, even after all these years, is that in spite of the crowd... made up of people of all ages... there was no idle chatter when the casket rolled past. No coughs. No sneezes. The only sound I remember was the slow clop-clop of horses' hooves.


 Ah, Johnny, we barely knew ye... 

Although his light was extinguished far too soon, the memorial flame at Arlington Cemetery for John Fitzpatrick Kennedy, thirty-fifth president of the United States... will burn forever. 

                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.  [Robert Kennedy]

One Candle

Thought for the day:  It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.  [Chinese proverb]

Can the light from a single candle make a difference? Can one person radiate enough light to hold the powers of darkness at bay?

Yes, a thousand times yes. Or to be more accurate, 2500 times.

Hanukkah, an eight-day festival that celebrates the triumph of light over darkness, of purity over adulteration, and spirituality over materialism, begins at sunset tomorrow. To all who are Jewish, I wish you a very happy Hanukkah. For the rest of us, I believe we, too, should embrace the ideals of light over darkness. 

Here's a story of a very special woman who did just that.

Her name? Irena Sendler. This is what she looked like in 1942, when the young Polish Catholic woman lived in German-occupied Warsaw. As a social worker and nurse, she was allowed to enter the Jewish ghetto. She saw their suffering first-hand, and knew that people of all ages were being  forcibly removed from their homes, never to return. And she also knew what the penalty was for trying to help them.

She knew what the penalty was, because signs like this were posted all over Warsaw. 

These signs issued a clear warning that helping anyone leave the Jewish settlement without authorization was punishable by death.

And yet...

[credit: German Federal Archive]

And yet, the dark plight of the children tore at her heartstrings, and she had to DO something. As a member of the Zegota resistance movement, she smuggled 2500 children out of the Warsaw ghetto, provided them with false identities, and got them to a safe location... to private homes, to orphanages, to convents. She took the children out in ambulances, under the pretext that they were infected with typhus; she carried them out in tool boxes; she transported them in coffins. Whatever it took, she did it. One after another, desperate parents turned their beloved children over to her, a virtual stranger, in the hopes that their children would be spared from the horrors of living... and dying... in a concentration camp. Each child's name, Sendler recorded on paper, along with their new identities and locations. Then she tucked those papers into jars, which she buried under an apple tree in her yard. Following the war, the information in those jars was used to reunite some of the families. Unfortunately, most of the parents were already gone, but thanks to Sendler and other members of the resistance, their children survived.

In 1965, Israel recognized Sendler as Righteous Among the Nations, a designation honoring non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jews. And risk her life, she did: Sendler was captured, tortured, and sentenced to death... and spared from execution by virtue of a bribe. The Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations is part of the Yad Vashem complex on the Mount of Remembrance in Jerusalem.

At the entrance to the Garden stands the Tree of Irena Sendler. I don't know what kind of tree is it, but an apple tree would be perfect, wouldn't it?

[credit: Mariesz Kubik]

This picture, taken in 2005, shows Sendler with the grown-up versions of some of the children she smuggled out of that Warsaw ghetto during the war.

[credit: Mariesz Kubik]

In 2007, Sendler was presented with the Order of the Smile, an international award given by children to adults distinguished in their love, care, and aid for children. A year later, she passed away.

In 2009, Poland issued a commemorative coin in honor of three women. One was Irena Sendler, a woman who proved that one person... one candle burning brightly in the darkness... can indeed, make a difference.


In a world full of darkness, in a world full of pain,
All it takes is a sparkle, all it takes is a flame,
To make joy out of sadness, to bring hope to a life,
Like the promise of the dawn
On a long winter's night.
[from the song Light One Candle, by Ronnie Spector]

                                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Let it shine!

P.S. For those of you who will be lighting menorah candles, I'll betcha you won't be doing it in such an unusual way as THIS...