Holocaust Stories

THE WINTER OF 1946-47 was long and cold in northern Montana. On Christmas Day my father pulled me on my brand-new sled to a neighbor's house, where we borrowed a load of firewood that we stacked on our back porch. I seem to remember that the thermometer read --55 that day, but childhood memories are notoriously suspect. Nonetheless, it was very cold. Flathead Lake froze so thick people drove across the ice for two months...

Twilight of the Gods (Raanana, May 2, 2019) Liberated from the shackles of human decency And the bonds of fundamental morality, Girded by Thor's hammer and Aryan superiority They rounded us up in the small hours of night When our innocense slept dreaming Of unicorns and stolen kisses Marching us half-dressed or naked Through the streets to waiting trucks and trains To be turned into soap or lampshades. From our ashes, we...

When Charlotte Salomon strode off this stageShe left behind her art that scribed her grief. Each gouache painting really was a page;A side that she had read in disbelief. Discovering that dear ones self-destroyed,It was her burden to accept this truth.Confronting all of this, she still employedHer mind and skill to paint her short-lived youth. Auditions are not always held, it's true.You may be simply cast to play your pa...