Saturday, August 30, 2008
2Gs -- Children of Holocaust Survivors
ferncohen.com
While I heard stories of growing up poor in the Great Depression and teenage years during World War II from my parents, there were other kids, like my friend Toby Ridzinski, who grew up with a whole other legacy. They grew up with parents who had lived through the horrors of the Holocaust. Every once in a while, while I worked at Key Food, I would catch a glimpse of a tattooed several-digit number on the inner forearm of a customer's arm as she carried away the groceries from my register. I knew what it was-- a number the Nazis had tattoed on inmates of concentration camps.
Some children of Holocaust survivors spoke to their kids about the ordeal, and some never did. I remember learning that there were groups for 2G's, which stood for "second generation"] because they had issues none of us could ever know. Toby told me once that her father would have violent nightmares and wake up screaming. Another friend Anita, had a photo in her living room of a little boy of maybe 4 years old. She was an only child, so when I asked who the boy was in the picture, she put her index finger over her mouth and whispered "shhh, I'll tell you later". It turns out the boy was an older brother she never got to meet. You see, her parents were a good 15-18 years older than my parents, which was kind of embarrassing to her because she always had to correct people when they referred to her mother as her grandmother [which is kind of funny by today's standards, because when Anita was in high school, her parents were the same age as some parents of today. But back then, they were old. A lot of young parents of the Holocaust, especially if they lost children, started second families, often with "replacement" children of a new generation. We never talked about Anita's "older brother". She told me that one time who he was, to satisfy my curiosity, but I sort of knew never to bring it up again. The Holocaust survivors are dying off, many with secrets they will take to the grave. Some talked openly about their experiences, and many never did. And I'm sure there were even some who blocked out all memories of that painful time. And then there are the "2G's", who lived with, and were raised by parents who had lived through unspeakable horrors -- and suffered post-traumatic stress like no other.
While I heard stories of growing up poor in the Great Depression and teenage years during World War II from my parents, there were other kids, like my friend Toby Ridzinski, who grew up with a whole other legacy. They grew up with parents who had lived through the horrors of the Holocaust. Every once in a while, while I worked at Key Food, I would catch a glimpse of a tattooed several-digit number on the inner forearm of a customer's arm as she carried away the groceries from my register. I knew what it was-- a number the Nazis had tattoed on inmates of concentration camps.
Some children of Holocaust survivors spoke to their kids about the ordeal, and some never did. I remember learning that there were groups for 2G's, which stood for "second generation"] because they had issues none of us could ever know. Toby told me once that her father would have violent nightmares and wake up screaming. Another friend Anita, had a photo in her living room of a little boy of maybe 4 years old. She was an only child, so when I asked who the boy was in the picture, she put her index finger over her mouth and whispered "shhh, I'll tell you later". It turns out the boy was an older brother she never got to meet. You see, her parents were a good 15-18 years older than my parents, which was kind of embarrassing to her because she always had to correct people when they referred to her mother as her grandmother [which is kind of funny by today's standards, because when Anita was in high school, her parents were the same age as some parents of today. But back then, they were old. A lot of young parents of the Holocaust, especially if they lost children, started second families, often with "replacement" children of a new generation. We never talked about Anita's "older brother". She told me that one time who he was, to satisfy my curiosity, but I sort of knew never to bring it up again. The Holocaust survivors are dying off, many with secrets they will take to the grave. Some talked openly about their experiences, and many never did. And I'm sure there were even some who blocked out all memories of that painful time. And then there are the "2G's", who lived with, and were raised by parents who had lived through unspeakable horrors -- and suffered post-traumatic stress like no other.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Update: Hoyer Confusion, Gracie Mansion, Phys. Therapy Rocks!
ferncohen.com
Before I forget to mention it, I won a competition in one of my online writing groups, where points are turned in for gift cards [I won 1,000 points] Here is the link to read my entries for a "Healthy Living Journal".
So my physical therapist, Michelle, came from Gentiva Home Care. Herein lies the great Hoyer Lift paradox. Together with her supervisor, TJ, they got the Hoyer out of my basement storage. Now, I should point out that this thing is h-u-u-g-e! I have been resistant to having it in my apartment because of its size, and the aides have been resistant to it because I can still stand and transfer. But, there have been moments, especially when I was trying out the lithium, that I am just too weak to stand and pivot.
So we got out the Hoyer, and the two ladies struggled with it, and suddenly TJ says "this is just not safe to do with one person. You won't be able to use it." I emailed my friends at the ALS clinic, because they were the ones who told me to book PT to train on the Hoyer. Antoinette went through the roof, phone calls ensued, and the result was a second visit with another PT. No problem this time : he made it look easy with one person. But I thank God I don't have to use it yet. PT is wonderful, and very beneficial. Michelle stretches me out and I have been doing so well with transferring and standing. I intend to pay her privately once a week, when Medicare/Medicaid stops paying her, which will be probably in a couple of weeks. At $85 a pop, I will have to prostitute myself with any way I can make money on the web! I found sites where I can earn Amazon gift certificates, which are really good. And I am still doing everything I can, to avoid spending money! Needless to say, there hasn't been a whole lot of fun or enjoyment, but that's the way it has to be for now. I look forward to my weekly Starbucks outing. My summer culminates tomorrow with the annual Ride for Life party at the Pendergasts. And on Tuesday my friend Stacy is coming down from Dutchess County. She is leaving her two toddlers in the care of a sitter and driving two hours each way. It doesn't get much more dedicated than that! Wait until she hears that I need her to hang the picture she sent to me at Christmastime. How embarrassing! But I just can't do some things myself!
My wishlist : to have the apt painted, have pictures hung, and of course to get into Manhattan and be able to leisurely roll around. And of course the beach -- this is the second summer I will not have seen the ocean. Special wheelchair-friendly mats have made the beaches accessible, and of course boardwalks are great. I am still looking for a group that does outings for disabled people. I am accepting that I will never again see an ocean, feel the sand, roll on a boardwalk, or smell the salt air. For someone like me, who has always lived for the beach, and never lived far from it, this makes me sad.
Through the DNNYC [Disabled Network of NYC], I managed to get an invite to the annual barbecue at Gracie Mansion, commemmorating the ADA [Americans With Disabilities Act] I met Jody there, and we took a picture with Mayor Bloomberg. That, and the party today at the Pendergasts, will be the only barbecues for me this summer, so I am grateful for both of those. It's nice to be in a place where I am not a scary oddity that people avoid looking at. I am going to look for more events like that in the future.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Oy vey-- Glitch for Accessible Taxi Dispatch Program
ferncohen.com
The good news is tat NYC is ready to roll out the accessible taxi dispatch program, whereby a person with a disability can dial 311 to have an wheelchair-accessible taxi dispatched. After all, in London, every taxi is wheelchair-accessible. But there's a glitch -- a big one! Watch Arnold Diaz' "Shame on You" report. My reaction? "Oh, for Pete's sake!" Well actually, I had stronger words that went more like "Can't they do anything f---ing right?"
The good news is tat NYC is ready to roll out the accessible taxi dispatch program, whereby a person with a disability can dial 311 to have an wheelchair-accessible taxi dispatched. After all, in London, every taxi is wheelchair-accessible. But there's a glitch -- a big one! Watch Arnold Diaz' "Shame on You" report. My reaction? "Oh, for Pete's sake!" Well actually, I had stronger words that went more like "Can't they do anything f---ing right?"
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Obituary For An Old Friend -- Common Sense Click Here!
ferncohen.com
I didn't write this, but I had to share! For anyone who has ever dealt with bureaucrats or the stupid clerk at Duane Reade, and I think that's all of us!
I didn't write this, but I had to share! For anyone who has ever dealt with bureaucrats or the stupid clerk at Duane Reade, and I think that's all of us!
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