Trashy December 19, 2010

While out covering a story today I heard a must-share anecdote

Background:  The locale was Tel Aviv’s landfill.  Not the most pleasant of surroundings, admittedly, but one eventually adjusts to the pervasive odor generated by multiple tons of trash.

I was interviewing the head of Tel Aviv’s recycle/renewable energy site at the landfill and as we watched tons of plastic bags, bottles, cartons, containers and the like empty onto conveyor belts aided by municipal employees, I commented:

“God, I’ll bet you’ve had some nasty accidents here with people falling into the compactors…”

The head of the recycle plant nodded his head vigorously and replied:  I could tell you some stories.

“Go on then, let’s hear,” I replied.

And this is how it went:

A few years ago the trash conveyor belt recycle line employees came banging on his office door in panic: 

“There’s a baby in the compactor!  There’s a baby in the compactor!”

He ordered an immediate machine shut down and then ran to the area to investigate.

Sure enough, there was an arm sticking out of the trash compactor heap.

But it clearly wasn’t a baby’s, he explained.

Someone called out in Hebrew: “Come out of there!” but there was no response.  Then in Russian. Nothing.  Arabic.  Still nothing.  Amharic.  Nada.

Then someone  yelled ‘Get out of there!’ in Yiddish.  And a reply in German came from inside the heap: ‘No!  I’m not coming out!  I’m naked’

The men gathered some clothing together and coaxed the man out.  He then told his story.

A German tourist, he had gotten drunk in a Tel Aviv pub the night prior and en route back to his hotel, was accosted, beaten up, robbed, stripped and then tossed into a dumpster.

The trash assembly line crew discovered him moments before he was headed into the “crusher”

They summoned an ambulance and police and when the medics arrived, one of the women commented: ‘He’s awfully good looking; shame about the smell.’

Divine intervention?

Only The First Four Hurt: Part V October 3, 2010

This is the fifth part in a series documenting my Uncle Irving’s account of his personal and family history during and after the Holocaust.  Previous entries include Only the First Four Hurt , Only the First Four Hurt: Part II, Only the First Four Hurt: Part III and Only the First Four Hurt: Part IV..slf

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We had bunks and I don’t remember who was next to me or who was my neighbor. We were all in our private worlds.  Trying to survive.  That’s what we thought about all day long.

I remember one guy who was with me in Auschwitz from the town I came from.  I didn’t even know he was there in the camp.   But he must’ve known that I was there because one day — we each got a small piece of bread every day to eat.  It wasn’t really bread.  It was made of sawdust.  Every person got half a loaf of those sawdust breads every day –  A few months into being in the camp this man from my town came to me with half a loaf and said:  ‘Take this. I can’t eat anymore.  Maybe it’ll help you.’  Maybe he knew something I didn’t.  I never saw him again.

There are a lot of things you try to push away.

Irving’s face crumbled.  He bowed his head and with shoulders heaving with sobs, he divulged:

All these years I tried to black all this out.  For me it was natural.  That’s why I’m breaking down now. For me it was always natural.

He continued sobbing quietly.  And then he wiped his face with one of the white, paper napkins on the table and pressed on:

Things continued like that until February 1945.  The Russians were coming close to the camp.  Of course we didn’t know that.  But the Germans decided to clear out the camp and sent us marching.  I don’t know how many days we marched in the snow and rain without food.  But if anyone fell, they were shot dead on the spot.

Irving was referring to the death marches.  As Russian troops advanced from the East and U.S./British troops approached from the West, a panicked German army attempted to clear out concentration camps and “erase evidence” of the atrocities committed within by marching camp prisoners to remote locations. Lacking food, water or insulation from the freezing cold, scores of already weakened and ill prisoners died en route.

After walking many days without food or water we got to a camp.  It wasn’t a camp but that’s what they called it.  It was a forest called Gunzkrhin.  And I remember that when we walked into this forest area, dead bodies were piled one on top of each other as high as a building.

I fainted.  And from that point I don’t remember any more until…I have no idea how long I was unconscious but it must have been a very long time.  The next thing I remember is that one day  the army – the SS army – came in and they were passing out food.  Gift packages to everybody with drinks and food and bread and chocolate and I don’t remember what else.

Nobody could believe they were doing that.  We thought they just wanted to bribe us before killing us.  The Red Cross came in the same day to see how they were treating the prisoners.  Then it was clear why they were feeding us.

I don’t remember if I ate anything but I lost consciousness again.  I do remember that whoever stayed alive….

Irving trailed off here…crying quietly.

Most people died.  There were only a few hundred of us left that were even able to move anymore.

The next thing I remember is that the Germans disappeared.  People were laughing and screaming, saying that the Americans had come.  I was in and out of consciousness.  But I remember them yelling and screaming that the Americans had liberated us.

The Americans were passing out food and feeding people.  But whoever ate dropped dead.  I wasn’t strong enough to eat or get up onto my feet. I guess I was just lying on the ground. I was lucky.

When liberating concentration camp survivors, unknowing soldiers offered food to the starving victims.  The sudden onslaught of solid nourishment was such an overwhelming shock to survivors’ systems that many died of “food overdose”.

I remember the American soldiers had taken SS as P.O.W.’s  and they were helping to feed us.  After people died from the food, they sent SS people with porridge and very light food to eat.  I was there for two days.

Then I was taken to a sanitorium in Lindz, Austria at an American army camp. I was unconscious and I woke up in the sanitorium a month or maybe a few weeks later.  I don’t have an exact recollection of time but at the beginning May or something similar, they took me to a recovery place.  That’s when I got my mental faculties and consciousness back… he indicated, tapping his head.

We were there until they got ready to send people who had stayed alive off to different places.

Some of the long time of blackout from the time I was in the field to the time I was taken to the  sanitorium I was unconscious.  Sometimes today I try to remember things like the day before the Red Cross visited us when the Germans gave us those nice things. I also try not to remember other things.

But there must have been a time lapse from the time the SS left the forest to when the Americans came in.  I’ll tell you why: I was weak but I left the camp with one of the boys and found a dead horse in the town where normal Germans lived. We decided to cook the head for ourselves.  I remember this and the horse very clearly but then I don’t remember all of it.  Maybe it was a delirious nightmare.

Off to the side, my Aunt Babe had been listening.  She signaled and shook her head ‘no’.  “Hallucination” she said, looking at Irving.  “There’s no way you would have had the strength to go into town and get a horse and cook it.”

But I do remember waking up and discovering that the SS were working for the Americans. 

Iran Controversy May 18, 2009

Did the Reagan campaign sign a deal with Khomeini’s Iran to delay the release of the American hostages held in Tehran until after the presidential election of 1980, thereby assuring Ronald Reagan’s election victory over President Carter?

My friend Brian Josepher (B.J.) thinks so.  Or according to his new book, that’s the case.  Brian has penned his third and most recent novel, a “faux” history of events.

The Complete and ExtraOrdinary History of the October Surprise is a faux chronicle of Iran-U.S.-CIA-Reagan-Carter-Economic downturn-Hostages, collaboration, dirty dealing, conspiracy theory, tons of info.

Mine came in the mail yesterday so I best get crackin’.  You can look at it or order following thes links here.

Congrats, B.J.!  Goodonya, mate!

Hitler in Tel Aviv February 18, 2009

I came across this video on Facebook via my friend Rick.  Apparently it’s a campaign railing Tel Aviv’s municipality for the dire parking situation and subsequent sky-high costs of parking fines.

The theme is straight up WWII Hitler Third Reich & it’s harsh. Holocaust survivors, none too happy about the parody, are  demanding it be removed from YouTube.  Judge for yourself.

Waterboarding

I’ve heard about Waterboarding.  I’ve read about it.  But I never had a visual image in mind of what it entailed.

While surfing Vanity Fair I came across this video.  I like Christopher Hitchens – acerbic as he can be.  Kudos to him for trying it out.  Geeyad.  If the video doesn’t come up on this blog page,  follow this link.  It’s very uncomfortable viewing so I can’t even imagine what the real deal is like.

The Female Factor February 5, 2009

I’m chagrined the past week. For a few reasons I think.

First of all I’ve been traveling to Jerusalem for work for the past few days.  And each time I get there, right at the entrance are strategically placed massive election posters canvassing tall buildings.  The posters bear images of the three campaigning front runners for the prime minister slot:  Benjamin Netanyahu, Ehud Barak and Tzipi Livni.

I’m incensed because some person/s have painstakingly climbed up scaffolding or used pretty impressive ladders or who knows what else and have painted over Livni’s face.  On each and every poster.  And there are a lot.  And they’re not easy to get to.  “A” for effort.  Clap *  cough  * clap.  Is it the candidate or her gender?  I muse.

Second:  I phoned up the spokesperson for one of the campaigning Orthodox Jewish parties after hearing a rumor that they had added a woman to their list to offset “the Livni effect”.

“Is it true?  Do you think I can get an interview with her?” I ask.  The man on the other end of the receiver chortles cynically.  “A woman?  Uh no.  We didn’t add a woman,” he sniggers as if I had just suggested:  “Have you, perchance, added a Tuberculosis infected illiterate third grade Hamas devotee to the party list?”     

And lastly, probably fanning the flames of all this disenchantment is the fact that I’m reading Afghan author Khaled Hosseini’s “A Thousand Splendid Suns” describing, among other things, the absolutely horrific treatment of women in Afghanistan during the Soviet invasion, civil war and  Taliban rule.  Some excerpts are chilling but the book is not put-down-able.

I read it and contemplate the part of the world I’m living in now and the potential future for this region.

And I have a tough time maintaining a positive outlook.

Quotes of the Week. . . January 22, 2009

My parents back in Philly were freaking out.  I talked to my mom for the first time in three weeks today.  It was very traumatic.  But it’s over and my prayers were answered.  All I kept asking God for was to be able to see my parents again. . .U.S.-born soldier serving in Gaza since the start of Israel’s Operation Cast Lead

Mom, you’re the best most wonderful mom in the whole world.  I’d give you a shekel just to prove it but I don’t want to waste the money. . .My 7-year-old son

What happened to the good old days when you could kill people and dispose of the bodies in a field and nobody had to know anything?  Now you have to fill out paperwork, file reports and account for every single dead person!  God!  . . .Anonymous person in Tel Aviv cafe

We heard some stories in Gaza about miracles that made me think: The messiah is here.  It’s time.  It’s finally time.  The messiah has come. . .Israeli soldier at Gaza military base

“My daughters, they killed them, Oh Lord. God, God, God.”. . .Gaza physician, Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish sobbing during a phone interview following the deaths of his three daughters and a niece after an Israeli army shell penetrated the wall of their home.

“I think this broadcast will change public opinion in Israel. . .It feels to me as if some of our audience is seeing and hearing about the high price ordinary Palestinians are paying in this conflict for the first time.”. . . Israeli television journalist Alon Ben David in an interview with the BBC after airing Dr. Izeldeen Abuelaish’s anguished phone call.

When School Is a Scary Place to Be December 2, 2008

“Mom, I have something for you from school,” my 7-year-old announced last night.  He gravely handed me a letter in a sealed envelope.

Ever the encouraging & positive mom, I asked:  “Did something happen?  Are you in trouble?”

“No,” he replied.

I opened the envelope to find a letter typed on school stationery.  It’s the type of letter no parent ever wants to read.

“Yesterday afternoon, an incident occurred on school grounds and it is now under police investigation.”

The letter was written in vague terms/  A strange man who tried to enter school grounds.   Assurances that he was unable to gain access to the inner courtyard.  An investigation into the matter is underway. “Police and administration are working jointly to find the man.”

Great. I congratulated the guard this morning at the gate.  Thank goodness nothing major happened.

Except I was wrong.

The letter didn’t detail the fact that the strange man, a pedophile, lured my son’s 7-year-old classmate to the gate and somehow violated the child.  The letter didn’t use the words the press did when they ran with the story today:  Sodomy.  Rape.

The letter didn’t answer all the questions the bewildered parents are now asking each other, shoulders shrugged and foreheads creased in concern.

How on earth did this happen?  How did noone notice?  How is the child faring?  How do we feel safe again?

Martha & Snoop November 24, 2008

For Shizzel, my little Wizzel.  What is the world coming to when Martha hosts Snoop?

Purse Snatching November 16, 2008

These days I sometimes forget I’m “living abroad”.  I made the move back to HLC (Holy Land Central) three  years ago making it pretty much impossible to retain the heightened awareness of small nuances and cold water douses to the face marking differences between here and there anymore.     

I still do, however, get the odd jolt on occasion.

Like last week when my electric bill arrived.  It was $300 or triple the usual amount.  Granted, it covered the tail end of hot season here – the end of August and September when air-con use is at a premium – but I scratched my head in earnest pondering how the figure could possibly be correct.

So I phoned up the electric company.  And the rep advised:

Go out in the hallway and look at your electric meter.  Read me the numbers.

So I did.  And she responded with: Yeah, the bill you got is incorrect.  We didn’t read the meters this time around.  We estimated the amount based on average annual use. Throw that bill away and we’ll send you the revised one based on the figure you gave me.

EXCUSE ME?!

“What would have happened had I paid the guestimated bill?” I inquired, restraining my incredulity.

We’d have eventually sent you the difference – once we did a meter reading.

Gee, call me skeptical but. . .

And on a totally different, marking the differences between here and there track, I was on the boulevard near our house last week attending an outdoor street fair for kids with my 7-year-old.

It was great.  There was a sand pit “archaeological dig” with planted coin relics for kids to unearth, a dark treasure cave for navigating with glow sticks and a treasure chest hunt with pirates and live parrots.

While waiting on a park bench for my young “Indiana” to uncover the lost grail, a total stranger approached.

Will you be sitting here for 5 minutes?

I didn’t answer.  I was sort of waiting, New York or Tel Aviv style, for her motive.

Can you watch my purse?  It’s getting in the way and I want to help my son.. .the woman continued, promptly plopping her leather bag beside me and traipsing off to the dig pit.

I sized up the woman, internally confirming that she was indeed accompanying a minor and not an incognito terrorist handing me a  ticking time bomb intended for doing away with a few dozen archaeologically inclined Israelis on a Friday afternoon.

And then I did that thing in my head that I assume most people would do. Geeyad, lady.  I could walk away with your house and car keys and your cash and credit cards.  Not to mention a nice leather purse.  You don’t even know me!!

But I didn’t.

Definitely, 100% without hesitation, fully guaranteed I can say that type of thing has NEVER happened to me in the U.S.

Never.

And it never will.