For my friend Sonya.
We were alone
She was one of the marked women.
This particular day she let me in the house. We were alone. We were together. It was the first time. Usually we were with other people. The boys, Gail or Norman would always be around. But not today was different. Her name was Sonya. Sonya is a beautiful name. She was a beautiful woman. I had arrived early.
On other days Morris might be fiddling around or watching Charlie’s Angels on TV. He really loved that show. You could not get him away from the TV. That was a long time ago and Charlies Angels was popular back in those days. Those day in the early 1970’s.
This day was unusual. Morris was out that day. He was working at his Butcher shop. He owned a real nice shop. Sonya and Morris had three wonderful kids. Allen, Gail and Willie and of course Norman their dog..
No. This day was different. I was very young. We were alone together. For some reason feeling a little anxious.
Sonya had a tattoo on her arm. Not like the kids have today. This one was different. You see this one was different because it was put there by Governmental force when she was a young girl. It was put there by Germans who marked her for life.
She was a marked woman as a little girl and in the gun-sights of her Government. They did it and she was so young. They did it because she was a Jew.
We made conversation
So this day was special and we were alone. I arrived early. We sat down in the kitchen and drank coffee.
We were making conversation. I wanted to know her better. I wanted her to clue me in. How do you talk about it? My wish was her to share something with me. Would she?
My personality is very curious. . My family was German and my dad was very proud of his heritage. He taught us young about being thrifty, curious and always love knowledge. To him that was a German. He was really so American didn’t speak German. I wanted to know. Sonya would give me strange looks sometimes. Was it my name?
She showed me
The coffee was good. As we chatted and sat she asked me to wait a minute. She came back into the kitchen with a very small old book.
She opened it and we spoke about it. She shared her story. She let me in on her pain. “This was my brother” she went on. “They separated him from us”. I didn’t know what to say. I just listened to her talk. “Yes he was a wonderful brother” “The Germans separated us from him”.”After that I never saw him again”. She didn’t need to tell me what they did to him. Tears were in her eyes but she was stronger than me. She wasn’t crying.. She showed me a few other few photos. Thats all she had of her brother. No brothers,no sisters and all killed.
The photos were very old and hard to see. By this time it was surreal for me. I didn’t know what to say. I was young but so happy she told me. I didn’t know what to feel. She sensed my feelings and brought my emotions back to earth. We chatted more. She had always been so reserved around me when we first met.
We continued to talk. It was a special day for me and I will always remember it. I will never forget. I felt special. I felt a bond and always loved her and in my mind knew both her and Morris her husband were special to me. She had opened me up to part of her world. We continued and Allen arrived home. We were not alone anymore. Sonya reminded me of my Mom. They were the same age.
Allen arrived home
When Allen came in we went about our business. Allen my friend, Sonya’s son was a lot like me because he was from New Jersey. I was born in Yonkers. She was born in Ukraine and Morris was from Poland. Allen and I worked together at the Star Newspaper in Tucson. His parents moved from Europe to New Jersey and then Tucson Arizona. We were all Yankees living in the Desert. They were my friends. After some years some of the kids moved to Texas.
Years later they left Tucson and moved to Houston and lived a wonderful life. They and people like them are what make up the people of this country.
She moved to Houston
Thirty years later quiet reserved Sonya would tell of her story at the Holocaust Museums and in front of groups and different events. But, I will always remember that special day she told me about her being a marked woman forty years ago.
Morris and Sonya loved the Beach. Anybody who has lived in a desert really appreciate the beach. They are no longer with us. They are both now are in a wonderful Cemetery in Galveston right now next to the Beach. They were my friends. I miss them. Morris really loved the Beach.
She loved the United States and Israel
She never doubted America. Morris and Sonya loved America so much. Like most Jews that were in the camps and survived they always had a want to live in Israel. But she had become an American. She felt comfortable here and loved it. They had made a good life here.
The Modern United States is safe haven from branding, persecution and hate.. Our Government never scapegoated or branded anyone who lives in our Country in recent times.
We the People. We must never allow our Government to single out and Mark or classify individuals either by ethnic groups, color, nationality or and whim.
We shall never round up people and mark them as Sonya was marked when she was a little girl.
I shall never forget my time with Sonya when she shared her wisdom.
A marked woman because she was a Jew.
Never Again!