Jews were told to remove their shoes and then shot by the Hungarian Arrow Cross and pushed into the river. As one of our guides said, “They disappeared.” Only their shoes remained behind.
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Suprise Me
It’s the Shoes That Made Me Cry
Prompted By Art’s Impact
/ Stories
Jews were told to remove their shoes and then shot by the Hungarian Arrow Cross and pushed into the river. As one of our guides said, “They disappeared.” Only their shoes remained behind.
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Munro
Prompted By An Unforgettable Person
/ Stories
Munro – Germany 1945 Munro Our son’s middle name is Munro. It’s a Scottish name and a bit unusual for an American kid, but it’s in keeping with the Jewish tradition of naming a child for someone beloved who has passed away. In fact the Munro we knew had been a mentor to my husband…
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Finding the Car
Prompted By Senior Moments
/ Stories
December, 2003, my first time volunteering for the huge “December Sale” at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts. My friend Barbara Cole Lee chaired this sale which ran over several days during the first week of December. She is a force of nature, brought in significant buyers from the art world and beyond…
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Soapy Masterpieces
Prompted By Guilty Pleasures
/ Stories
One guilty pleasure I share with my husband is PBS Masterpiece Theater serials
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Foiled by Finkel and Foyle
Prompted By Senior Moments
/ Stories
I knew I'd crossed a threshold when I drew my first real blank on a name.
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Finding a New Home Town
Prompted By Can You Go Home Again?
/ Stories
If home is the place “where everybody knows your name,” where you have friends that date back over 50 years, Evanston is my home town.
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Numbers
Prompted By Those We Miss
/ Stories
My sister checks in with the woman behind the counter, signing her name and mentioning what she’s there for. It hardly seems necessary to mention this. Everyone who enters this room, unless they are a support person like me, is here for one reason: they have cancer.
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Was Blind but Now I See
Prompted By The Eyes Have It
/ Stories
My father was leaving the lecture hall when he stepped out of the doorway and a snowball—or more accurately, an ice ball—came hurling from the side and hit him directly across his open eye.
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Que Lastima
Prompted By Poetry
/ Stories
“Que lastima,” says a delicate-featured little girl. What a pity.
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Humbug, or Sightless in the Circus
Prompted By Can't Leave Home Without It
/ Stories
I didn’t much give a damn for wearing glasses.
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