THE MAN AT THE LIBRARY. Click, on anything red.

31 Dec

The man at the Library body was so racked with twists and turns as to made his walk one of pivots on heel turning.

By the look in his eyes one could tell that his spirit had endured much more than one could imagine through his personality; and, in his having outlived his family and most of his friends.

As I gaze further into his life through conversation and watching his sparkling  eyes.  I realized that I was seeing that which had made up his life of sorrow and it saddened me to the point of near tears.

As we talk it was not long before we realized that though we were a generation apart that we had experienced a parallel timeline of family situation.

In that he had suffered great losses similar to my mother of eighty-eight (88) years young.

For that he had lost his mother and father with siblings through the Belzec Concentration Camp in Poland where the family had been transported by railroad from the Eastern Ashkenazic area of Europe.   And, this occurring during the great catastrophic war of the Second World War (WWII).

Where as my mother had lost her young mother through early death in 1938 when she was eleven  (11) years old.

And, father with siblings through the economic devastation of the first 1930’s great depression as they were separated through Community involvement or church; removing, the children from my Grandfather care and placing her with brothers; and, sisters in a segregated by age Catholic Orphanage in Brooklyn, New York in New York State.

As, the conversation progressed and we realized the comparison of his family journey to some degree coinciding with my mother’s tragic family journey tear began to well in the corner of his eyes.

Continuing . . . . . . . . . .  to converse in our family’s tragic commonality that by the time we had end.  Both of us were in tears of families commonality and struggles and with our uncommon earthly bonds.


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