Traditions!

It is my great pleasure to introduce you to one of our great supporters here at Bubbies & Zaidas Blogging.    To chat with Fania Wedro is to sit with the community.  As we sat to talk, people would come up and pay their respects. It was clear that she is well loved. Fania is not simply the one woman but she embodies her community.   When I point this out to her, she laughs and reminds me that she always says: “JCC is the living room for the Jewish People in Calgary.”

Fanny is well known for her presentations at the Speak every year at the Holocaust Education Symposium, now in it’s 30th year.    She is clear that only through education, through storytelling and sharing can we get to the promise of  “never again”.   “When I was a child I was afraid to go out at Easter because of the oppression of the Jews… things change” she reflects. 

At the 25th anniversary of symposium, a teacher from Strathmore spoke about being at the symposium when she was 17 and hearing Fanny speak about hiding in the forest,  this changed the course of her life.  That is the fuel that keeps Fanny going, telling her stories and keeping traditions.

“I am not religious but I am think traditional” says Bubby Fanny “traditions help us remember who we are, not just as individuals or families but as whole communities.   They are important.  It is what keeps the Jewish culture together.  If we didn’t have tradition we wouldn’t have survived Holocaust and the persecution all those years.”

“There are so many things that get in the way of our traditions.  Remembrance day has become a day at the mall.   We should take the time to reflect on our history and how we got here as a society, how we got our freedom."

She sees the danger in not passing on our history when these children, who will become the future decision makers do not know the stories of the past and then “history will repeat” itself.

She goes on to remind us that “Culture can maintain traditions and support the education of our history so that we can try to learn from our traditions.”

The key here is taking the best of what we have learned, and learning from the worst of what we have experienced.  When I asked her how we would know what was good her life experience made the answer spring from her lips, as though this common sense answer would be easy if you simply gave it some thought:  the best “traditions are respectful of humanity as a whole”.

She reminds us that it is unhelpful to ghetto yourself.  The world is a wider scope than the four walls of your house.  If we keep our traditions we are able to move from our families, to our communities and to humanity.

“It is not just my tradition, it is our tradition, I also love other traditions like Christmas - I love it.   I have Christmas dinner with my friends that celebrate Christmas.  American thanksgiving, I respect other traditions. Its a bringing together.   And if we all supported each other’s beliefs and traditions we would have fewer troubles in the world.”

What Christmas Does Mean?

By Sandi

Christmas does not mean, buy, buy, buy…spend a lot of money.

Christmas should not mean loneliness, being on the streets and being without food. There are

Statistics show Christmas is the time of year where many people commit suicide. There is pressure of the following:

thousands of people in the world who are in this situation. Would it not be a joyful experience if we felt safe enough to invite a lonely person or a homeless person into our home during the Christmas season to share some food with and make them aware they are special in his or her own way? This in itself is a gift.

(1) “spend time with your family”

(2) “spend time with your friends”
(3) “cook a turkey dinner with the fixings”

(4) “put up a tree with all the trimmings”

(5) “buy gifts for those people in your life that you love etc. 

There are many people in the world that are not fortunate to be able to do any of the above as they don’t have family, don’t have friends, can’t afford to buy a turkey etc. Through all the hype, loneliness becomes more prominent during the Christmas season. Some people find the pain so unbearable that they just want to avoid the hurt.

The problem with the pressure to buy, buy, buy is that there are people who do not have self-discipline and cannot afford to spend a lot of money on gifts, however, because it is Christmas will go into extreme debt. People believe they will pay this debt off later; however, this does not appear to happen. Unfortunately, some of these people are shopaholics. The sponsors of the numerous advertisements pressuring people to buy are feeding this addiction.

Years ago there were numerous advertisements to purchase cigarettes…this has now ceased. Scientists and doctors have proven that smoking is harmful to a person’s health. Over spending is also hazardous to a person’s health. Extreme debt and finding a solution causes stress that causes numerous health problems. Valuable relationships have almost been destroyed for the wrong reasons…materialism. I suspect we will see the need for the same kind of interventions for consumerism as we did for smoking cessation in the future.  Thousands of children know Christmas as only being the time of year they are going to receive numerous gifts and grow up with with this mind set.

Another scenario occurs during Christmas. Numerous charities are asking for money. There are people who want to give to the charities that mean the most to them, however, unfortunately they cannot, as they themselves do not have the money to give and put themselves on a guilt trip because they care so much.

Last, but not least, winter holiday traditions are different for all cultures and beliefs. The Christian world celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ during the Christmas season. Therefore, speaking as a Christian, I wish you a Merry Christmas, welcoming you into my tradition of celebration, not consumerism.  I welcome you into my celebration, as other faith traditions welcome me.

Not married? No Children! Oh My!

By Norma

When I was a teenager the expectation was that it was alright to get an education but this was to occur while you were waiting to get married.  The marriages and engagements started by the end of high school and later, most of the women in my nursing class were engaged by the time we graduated.  I came close! My fiancé wanted to get married right away, but I wanted to get my degree. Since he did not want to wait, we parted.

I was a enthusiastic pupil and had always been encouraged by my parents to study. This was not the norm amongst my peers! My relatives continued to ask about boyfriends, engagement parties and weddings were a nightmare of veiled looks and questions.
   

The next big question was - didn't I want children?  This did have me questioning my own motivation.  But...  I guessed that if I did marry, children would likely follow.  But... did I really want that?  I have felt judged, particularly as time went on and I didn't marry or have children. I could sense that behind the questions looks there were other thoughts- is there something wrong with her since she can't get a man?  Is she just too picky?       

Feminism, MS magazine,and the "the pill", were front and center during my 20's and 30's.  In some ways that made my situation more tenable. At least there were discussions and forums on marriage and motherhood and I didn't have to feel so alone being single and childless.  There were other women out other women like me!  There were even women brave enough to admit that motherhood was not for them.
       

I have had my share of relationships, some brief, some long term. My common law marriage has lasted 25 years.  Marriage was not an issue for either of us and we were beyond the parenthood age when we met. My career in Nursing has spanned 46  satisfying years. I have reached the age of 70 sans marriage or offspring.

Oh my!

Home is Where the Hearth Is

By Bruce Eekma

I was born on the second day of May, 1939 in the province of Friesland Netherland.

Whatever happened there at the time had a great influence on building my character because these were not happy times in Holland. This was mainly due to the rumors that were being spread that Hitler was going to occupy our country. And just a year after I was born the rumors became a reality and Germany invaded Holland on the 10 of May, 1940.  At the time I was still a baby and too young to understand but later learned, from teachers at school, that this occupation was a total surprise attack because no war was declared by the Germans. The Dutch people thought they were staying neutral as in World War I, when in the middle of the night German planes with their lights on so everybody thought they were friendly, came and flew over Holland then continue their course and disappeared over the ocean towards England. After everything was quit again these same planes would return, and because the Dutch soldiers were busy guarding the Dutch border, every city was invaded without resistance.

 The things I do remember most were those incidents that happened in the winter of 1944 and spring of 1945 when I was five years old.  It was a very cold winter and everything in

Holland was confiscated by the Nazi’s to feed the German people and their Armies.

There was no food in the stores or coal available anywhere to heat the houses. Food was being cooked in a central kitchen and could be picked up, a coupon was needed for every family member, at noon by bringing your own pail or pan. To heat your house most people used old furniture or whatever was laying around in parks. By this time our family had grown by two more brothers and my Mother was pregnant of another one. My Father took me to the central kitchen a couple times and I saw some of the food they had prepared, it looked like a thick soup, which some very hungry parents would drink immediately and only leave with half their allotted portion for the family at home. My Father, with the help off some of our neighbors, had cut down some trees in the park when after that the Germans posted a notices there saying, anyone who destroys more trees here is going to be arrested which got everyone so scared that they would only burn wood they had around the house. My Dad however had a better idea and took me and my younger brother to the train station, where there were large piles of coal that was used by the trains, where he told the two of us to go and play. He wanted to know which one of us could get the most coal in our pockets and take it home. In the meantime my Dad was distracting the German guards by talking and joking to make sure we were going to be safe. We didn’t have to be told twice because it was fun, my Dad did not give us hell for getting dirty like Mam, however my brother cheated because he picked small pieces and I picked large ones so he had more but I was the fastest home but to Dad we were both winners. It made us feel good, my brother and me, to see our parents happy in a warm house and as soon we saw there was no more coal we would beg them to take us back to the station again. This coal stealing was not as dangerous as it may appear because in our Town we had more older German soldiers (Grandparents) that were used to me and my brother picking up cigarette buts discarded by them and we would then take these Home for my Dad who would cut them open take out the Tobacco and roll a new cigarette with paper from our bible.

 Another time I was at a German check stop where they would stop everyone and take away their bicycles, examined them, keep the good ones and the bad ones were strewn in the

river. At the same time down the street there was a raid going on by the German police

looking for young men, those under forty, to work in Germany. All German young people were in the army and they needed Dutch young people, many had already volunteered, to dig trenches and clear bombed out neighborhoods in German Cities. These raids always created a scene because if a young person was found they were imprisoned and their families were heavily fined or could be shot. My Father had been picked up many a time but because of his talkative nature always managed to come home after one or two months. I quickly ran home to inform my Father what was happening whereby my Mother told my Dad that he should tell his sister about this.  My Father ran across town, making sure nobody saw him, to his sister’s house and told her what was going on and she thanked him. He was not home for more than an hour when he heard from someone that a young man had been shot by the Germans, and to set an example for anyone not to run away, they would not allow the family to pick up the dead person for twenty four hours. That evening we were told that it was our cousin who had gotten scared when he saw the Germans coming so ran out the back door where they saw him and shot him. Later we found out that if he had stayed home he would still be alive because they had already finished the raid. My Aunt from then on blamed my Father and Mother for his death and never talked to them ever again.


 These things shaped my life for the first six years never knowing if there was going to be enough to eat or drink. One year we had a rabbit and I was looking after him as my pet, every day I would pick dandelions a favored food for him and he would eat it so heartedly. Then one day my Dad said that we had to slaughter it because we had nothing to eat, which I didn’t want to hear, so took the rabbit out of his cage and ran away. He found me after a couple minutes, the neighbor’s told him where I was, and promised me he would not kill my rabbit. He told me we had to let this one go so it could return to its family to be happy, to which I agreed, however the meat in our pan sure looked like my pet and I still will not eat rabbit.

Finally in May 1945 the Germans were leaving, I seen them go with my own eyes, and

behind them came the Canadians soldiers with their shiny new jeeps. They would come down the street riding in big tanks and gave chocolates to us kids and nylons for the ladies. All the kids in the neighborhood would gather at noon by the entrance of the soldiers mess hall and they would give us white bread which we had never seen before, my mother would make her own almost black bread from grain we collected at farms grind it in the coffee grinder then bake it in a homemade oven outside, but nothing came close to this white bread and I believed these soldiers came from the Promised Land and I promised myself that I would go to this land someday.

Because the Canadian soldiers were living in our schools I did not start in grade one until I was already eight years old. Our family had expanded to six boys of which I was the oldest plus my parents and it was expected that I work mornings and evenings on the farm, not to make money, but I would receive free milk or butter and sometimes even some meat.

By the age of fourteen I left the family home and started to work as a laborer on a farm. My

Opafiets courtesy of wikimedia commons

Grandfather had got me the job and at the time it was normal to sign a contract for one year from the first of May until the next May. As a signed bonus I got my first bicycle and my poor Grandfather got into a lot of trouble with other family members, because he had forty-five Grandchildren, where I was the only one he got a job. I had to live on the farm and was expected to work from four in the morning till about seven at night seven days a week every third weekend off. I would get paid twelve guilders a week of which ten went to my Mother. My bedroom was in the cow barn, and was only allowed to eat in the kitchen with the maid. I was never invited into the rest of the farm because I was a worker not family. By living in the barn I smelled like cow manure, I did not know this at the time, but that was the main reason why girls did not want to dance with me at parties it was not as I thought that they didn’t like me. I did enjoy going Home every third weekend because that was Home where I belonged.

It was a good time when I was Home because I remember my Father would take me and his Brothers, he had eight Brothers and two Sisters, and we would all go with my Grandfather to local soccer games. Also I remember one time a cousin was getting married in a village nearby and my Father phoned, a luxury item at the time but my father worked for the city and it was needed for after hour’s emergencies, to say he was coming down so we could go to the wedding together. He arrived and we both jumped on our bicycles, however he pedaled so hard I could barely keep up to the old man and I was totally out of breath with my legs shaking, I got mad and told him your crazy I’m never going bicycle with you ever again. He looked at me and said I am not going with you neither you go way too fast for me I could barely keep up, after which we both laughed because we realized we had been raced each other.

 I left Holland for a job in Luxemburg for one year when I was seventeen and there I lived in the same house as the head laborer whom, with his wife and children, treated me as Family. Together we milking seventy five cows three times a day but we had a new invention, a milking machine, which helped tremendously. It was a good time because milked cows was much faster now and the rest of the time I could explore the country side. We were close to a town called Esternacht a very hilly district, unlike Holland which is flat, therefor it is known as little Switzerland. This was the first time I was so far away from home but had all my money to myself and was more in depended. Now if I went to a dance, girls danced with me and even wanted to marry me. This was something new and there happened to be a girl which I liked who introduced me to her Mother, a widow, which would love to find someone like me to help her with bringing home the bacon. So I phoned my parents in Holland and they said they would phone and talk to this girl’s Mother, which I believe they did, however I don’t know what was said for I never saw this girl again. A couple months after that I got a notes to report to an Army base in Limburg for a physical so had to return Home.

Once Home I told my parents that I didn’t want to go into the Army but wanted to go to Canada where my Mother had a sister. At first my Mother said she wanted me to join the Army because I was classed as a breadwinner and she would receive an allowance. However she would not stop me if I wanted to go for ones I was in Canada she would come over and visit her sister there. So it was that I applied, got a visa, and departed Holland three days before I had to report for Army duties on 3 April 1958 still only eighteen years old.
 

SS Groote Beer (The Big Bear) courtesy of Wikipedia

 I left Rotterdam Holland on the third of April on a big boat called The Big Bear which had a large Banquet room, Dance hall, Movie theatre and Swimming pool. My trip was subsidized by the Dutch government so slept in a large cabin with three other man. If some of these men had their lady friends over for a little bonding they would pay me to go on deck, in the bar, to have drink on them which I was happy to accommodate. Sometimes I would go to the front of the ship to look for icebergs because I did not want to us to hit one as what happened to the titanic. After eight days we arrived in Quebec City and I saw all the different color houses, so different from the grey old buildings in Holland, but felt sorry for the poor mailman who must be going color blind. Once we got through customs we boarded a Trance Canada train which took three days and nights, only stopping for an hour in various cities to drop off passengers, until we finally reached Calgary where I believe we arrived on the fifteen of April 1958. Finally I was in the Promised Land of which I had dreamed so long ago.

 This year it has been fifty-five years that I’m here and it has been good. Been married for over fifty years, without time-off for good behavior, to Margaret who was also born in Holland and I believe this was one of the things which attracted me to her because we both believe in having strong Family ties. We now have two Sons, two Granddaughters and two Great-Grandchildren and I don’t believe that it ends there, so we are blessed. I still think of Holland and have a strong pull towards that country. But here in Calgary is where I belong and Canada is my country now plus I want to be buried here. When I sit at home alone or with family I’m in heaven. Even when on vacation, sometimes Disneyland which I enjoy, I still long to go back to Calgary a beautiful city with the mountains in the background that once they get it finished will be a great place to live. It is my Home.  

Remembering more than Sacrifice

Ways to remember, reading & learning.

Irine Remembers
By Irina

It is important to remember the men and women who fought in the wars and sacrificed their lives to save their families and country.

It is important to give and show appreciation and thanks to these men and women who fought in the wars. Because of these people, we are privileged to live a good life in the safe country we are living in.

We do not want to experience what I experienced as a child.

When I was five years old, my mother, two brothers and I had to leave our home because the Germans were bombing  the area.

My dad, who was a teacher and a translator, knew many languages. When the war started, he was recruited as an officer by the government. His job was to recruit young men to become soldiers and send them to the front to fight in the war.

What I remember is very painful. Dad put our family on a train. We travelled to Kiev, the capital city of Ukraine. The Germans bombed the train and many people were killed. As the bombs were coming down around us, my mother covered us three children with her body to protect us. Those of us who survived the bombing ran into the forests…we were very scared.

Our soldiers made it through the forests as well. We to came to a village. I asked if anyone had seen my dad…finally we saw each other. My dad gave me a hug and a kiss and then swiftly had to leave for the front to fight.

This is only part of the terrible and devastating experience I encountered in my young life.

This brief story mentioned is why it is important for the youth to remember we do not want to experience this again. We want our country to always be safe from war.

What to Remember

By Amalia

It is very important to remember what has gone on in the past, especially for the younger generations that haven't lived through the horrors of war.

They have to know what happened in the past and not repeat the same mistake.

They have to know fight hatred because it is one of the biggest ills of humanity.

They have to promote understanding and friendship amoung people of all races, to learn about other cultures.

We come from different parts of the world but that doesn't mean that we can't strive to live together in peace.

Why Remember

By Bob

In the past, and yet even today, Governments, politicians and leaders around the world succumb to greed, power and strategically arrange to put their selfish plans into place to acquire land, money and possessions at the expense of ordinary citizens who want to live happily in a peaceful environment.

They are willing to sacrifice human life of anyone who stands in their way.  Beginning with indignities of fear, humiliation, lies and corruption, they work away at deceiving the innocent by depriving them of their basic freedoms.

The resulting confrontrations, invasions and previous World Wars prove there are no limits to their actions or intentions.

Yes, it is important to remember the past.

On Remembrance Day around the world we pause to think of the millions of men, women and children who were killed, disabled or suffered physically or mentally.

Men & Women who fought against oppressors to reclaim this freedom and it's important to particularly remind our educators and government leaders to continue to inform everyone of the events of the past so that this unacceptable situation will not continue.  Peace will not happen if we individually do not take a stand when we notice our rights being violated.

It is important for the youth of today to be knowledgeable of CURRENT WORLD EVENTS.

"Never Again"

This is a question to you, our readers:  "What is our individual responsibility to that phrase?"  Irina points out the personal ravages of these large scale failures of humanity.   Amalia suggests we need to remember how we got to the point of large scale failures of humanity.   Bob points us to ongoing learning, not necessarily celebration but CONSIDERATION of ALL that went into sending troops into dangerous situations.    How do you strive to be a part of the "Never Again" story.   How can we do better?   Leave your comments below.

Dora's Remembrances of Home

The phrase: "My home",  it mean to me the place where I live in this moment.  When war start we lived in a horse buggy for few months.  Nobody would let us in because every one was afraid be prosecute by German authority.

In Mogilev:   I don"t remember to much  but it was hard time.  We covered a lot of territory on the occupied territory.  Nobody let us in because we were Jewish. We kept moving by horse, the bombs fly from the sky but we continue to drive to river Volga.  

Later, the Russian government put us on the train and it took us to Kazakhstan not far from capital Alma-ata. From this place my father went on front where he was killed.  My mother left alone with three children and my Auntie, with her baby, stayed with us.   My Aunt work in the  cafeteria and we would eat because she brought pail of soup home.  My mom had to work outside and this is the way we survived four years.

After we went to Saratov. It was closed city. To go there we have to have Visa.  This journey was very  hard.  We stayed in the police station a few times but finally we got there and start our life  from nothing again.

It was hard traveling but sometime we have good time.  I remember my Mother took us to the park and we listen to military orchestra around us was a loth of people and we have good time.

My mother worked very hard.  Somebody told her “Go Frida, to Vilnius it'll be enough money to survive on pension that you get for your children”.  We went by train it take few days. We live in Vilnius 20 years.  I would count that as my home.  Although we have a lot of hard times, we  had good times.  

We, children, grew up by ourselves.  Mother work as security guard for twenty years and we looked after ourselves but we have fun.  Summer time we went to camp on the Baltic sea for the children without a father (who killed during in the war).  Time went by we grow up.  Finish school, college, married, have children and life continue.   Right now, the children encourage us to live Soviet Union but for now our home is Canada

What is Home?

Home is a complex concept and that changes as we gain life experience. 

This topic was inspired by searching out places and homes we had lived in via Google Maps Street View.  You can imagine how powerful it was to see a home we  had not lived in for perhaps 40 years and re-experience a place they thought they would never see again. 

Nomad

by

Amalia

When I was 17 I never thought I would live so long.  87 years old.

My childhood, with my parents before the war was a life without worries.  A naive state, perhaps.  I was with my parents and I felt safe & secure.  I have always thought of this feeling as the feeling of what home is:  safe and secure.

When there was war, then home changed.  In a camp, separated from my parents.  It was not home anymore, it was horrors.

We would dream in the camps, of what it would be like when we got out.  What would we want. Most of us just wanted to eat.  A simple life, safe and secure.   What I know now is that I would never feel like I had a home the same way again.

We fled from the camp, as the front approached.   The commanders and guards fled before us leaving they left their rifles behind so we took the opportunity to flee.  We were afraid we would be taken back to the camp so we hid out, reunited with my parents.  They feared for my safety being 17 years old so they sent me with other Jewish children, to an Orphanage in Romania

After a few months we were reunited and we had to look for another home

I don’t think any of us ever felt safe and secure after all that we had seen.

My parents were very sick, not very old, but sick because of life in the camps.  Home was not the same.  There were more worries I had to care for them, though they wanted  desperately to care for me.

Then again a change, when I was married we moved to Israel and then to Canada.

I think if there had been no war we would have stayed put, had a home, but the war made us like nomads, always searching, never finding, that sense of home.

Reflections on Home

by

Sandi

photo credit:  Sandi

Home to me is sharing my life with my 12 year old Pomeranian, Pinut who I have learned many lessons from, such as unconditional love; patience; kindness; caring; and much more. Pinut is champagne in colour. She looks like she has a mask on her tiny, sweet and endearing face. We are good buddies and seem to understand each other’s body language.

Home to me is a cozy condo townhouse which most of the time I enjoy. I enjoy my home because I feel safe and secure. My home is like a sanctuary as it is very calming and peaceful.

I have a small back yard, which was carpeted with yellow leaves from two large Poplar trees situated in my next-door neighbours’ yard…one on each side. Every year, I mindfully rake up the fallen leaves. As I raked up the leaves, I wondered if I would ever complete the job. This year, the job took about five hours from start to finish. I had to take a couple of brief breaks because of some pain…this happens as a person ages. I sat beside Pinut who immediately comforted me…that is the feeling of home. Finally, the job was completed. Hard work always gives me a feeling of accomplishment.

The next day the yard was carpeted with white due to the decision of Mother Nature to cover the ground with snow.

Home is many things to me. Home is a place where I can live with nature, with my wonderful partner in crime, Pinut and at times can be lonely. However, being alone allows me to learn how to be happy with whom I am. The hardest part of growing up at any age is learning to be okay alone and being happy with whom you are.

Home to me is a place of security and healing. I am very blessed.

________________________________________________

Where I lived

by

Aron Eichler

When you say I home, I think of my family.  There were 5 children in our family.  One born in Russia, the others in Poland. Only 2 left.

Over the years we have traveled to many countries during the prewar years.    We were not overly wealthy but my parents had to move in order to support us, it was very difficult to support a family with 5 children. 

Sometimes we had to be farmed out, to live with other family members in their home.  It was normal for a family to be broken up until we became of age: 12 for a girl 13 for a boy, when he has a bar mitzvah.

When the war broke out, my brother and I were on one side of the river that belonged the Russian authorities, my parents on the other side with the German authorities.

We stayed with my Uncle he had animals, it was nice.  It was not home but it was where I lived. 

I lost touch with my parents, when the Russian Government  gave them opportunity to go to Russia.   I stayed with my brother, he was 8, I was 10, living on my Uncle’s farm.

One day they arrested him for being a spy, he didn’t even know what the word spy meant, but they found an excuse to take us away.

We were put in an Arbeit Camp, a concentration camp.  It was not home but it was where I lived.

I shinned maybe 2000 boots of the Germans.  There were a few that would sometimes leave me candy or chocolate.   For a ten year old boy this was important.  They would eat their chocolate and drop the wrapper with a bit for me.   Not all of them, of course, but a few.

One day my uncle put on your two pair of pants, short and long pair.   I said why, he said  don’t ask why I will not give you an answer.

There was an escape planned.

He woke us up. 

It was time to find a new home.

Electric wire around the camp and the first few people died on the wire but their weight allowed us to pass over the wire to freedom.

Hundreds of people escaped.

My Uncle moved us through the wire ahead of him.

Then he was shot.

“Luft,  kinder, Luft” 

We ran into the woods, we ate berries, grass, sometimes we found a tree that found apples in orchards.  It was not home but it was where I lived.

We lived there for a long time.   

One day we heard “HALT!”

We froze.   

When I looked up I saw that the uniforms they were wearing were not of the German soldiers but of the resistance, the underground movement.

They gave me a new home.

__________________________________

What is Home?

by

Bob Peterson

Home:  What does home mean to this surfing senior?

“Home” on the ipad takes me back to different icons or applications.

Google Street View let me see my childhood "home" in Kingston Ontario.

Now, I looked up Google Earth Satellite view of my home but the street address was obscured by a cloud.  

(Am I living in “the cloud”?)

Then I Googled my  name a found an interview I had given regarding WW2

Is the internet my new home?

Home

by

Margot

“Home” does not mean the same thing for everyone.  For some people it is just bricks and mortar, for others it is a show place where they can display their wealth or their good taste.  For me it is and was always where I was with my parents and as I grew up with my husband and daughters.

My father always said that anything in life that is replaceable is not important.

I have lived in seven different countries one of which was Israel, where I met my beloved husband, who was from South Africa. 

When our daughter was 15 months old my husband decided we should move to South Africa, which meant, for me, leaving my entire family.  Parent’s, brother, grandmother & seven uncles and aunts and cousins.

After some years we were able  to go back to Israel very often and each time as I got onto the tarmac at Ludd, I had this over powering feeling:   THIS IS HOME.

Happy to be Home

by

Frances Kalb

As you know, September 11, 2001 affected everyone including me.  This is my story.

After visiting my daughter, Arlene and her family in Atlanta, Georgia, I was returning home to Calgary on that fateful day without any knowledge of what was in store.   We left Atlanta about 8 am Eastern time.   Shortly after take off the Captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker that we were making an unscheduled landing in Memphis Tennessee.    He also mentioned that there was not mechanical problem and not to worry.   We landed without knowing the sad and tragic day that was ahead.  Only when we landed were were informed of the tragedy at the Trade Centre in NY and other places, and were told to pick up our luggage and make arrangements to get back to Atlanta.   All flights were cancelled.

I was fortunate enough to meet up with a lovely young woman and her children on their way to Hawaii.   She was able to get hotel accommodations for herself and for me as she was an airline attendant.  Many people were simply stranded.   She had phoned her husband and he would be there to join them that evening and return to Atlanta the next morning by car.   They included me in the return trip and so I was back at my daughter’s home the next day to remain for another week.  

Arlene and my granddaughter welcomed me home with open arms, lots of hugs and kisses, so happy that I was safe.  

Remembrance

The Bubbies & Zaidas spent some time thinking about war. 

We are a generation that has lived long enough to have seen some terrible atrocities of war. 

We have a concern that younger generations will forget what it is we are asking them to remember. Remembrance day is not about the “glorification of war” but a time to reflect on those who’s

sacrificed, to remember how war comes about, and we remember so that we can strive towards the ideals laid out in the UN Declaration of Human Rights and Freedoms:  

 Never Again

Poppy Field, France

 Remembrance
By Norma

Why is it important to remember?

So that history will not be repeated.
So that future generations don't forget the sacrifices made by our
grandfathers and fathers during two world wars.
To be able to teach about the horrors brought about by war.
To be able to share memories with future generations.
Preventing the stories of our elders from being lost.
To let the youth of today,who will be our future parliamentarians,
know what to avoid in the future.

What is it important to remember?

That so many youth from the recent past have disappeared because of war.
So many young men who never got to realize their futures!
That war has a devastating aftermath for the soldiers and their families.
I think about what used to be called "shell shock" and that is now called PTSD.
The governments who have failed the returning soldiers with the lack of psychological resources and pensions to help veterans and their families.
To keep memories of war before the youth of today. 

 

May We Introduce Ourselves?

The Bubbies & Zaida’s Blogging group is a project that endeavors to take being an Elder into the  digital age.  The goal of the blogging project is to introduce you to some elders in the community and invite you to see the world from their perspective.  Perhaps you may see things differently after reading several stories about life on a different side of the mountain.    Before we dive in and share our stories, we would like to introduce some of our bloggers.

Sandi:  I was born August 1947 in the small town of Chemainus, B.C. located on Vancouver Island.  When I was the age of three my sibling and my parents moved north to Nanaimo, where I completed my education and at the age of 21 joined the Air Force.

January 03, 1969 I became a member of the Air Force, which was one the best decisions I have made. Basic training was took place at CFB Cornwallis from January until March. My trades training, a Finance Clerk took place at CFB Borden from March until June. After my training, I was posted to CFB Ottawa. I took my release the end of March 1976.

June 1978 I moved to the city of Calgary. Outside of my employment history, I experienced the joys of Ballroom and Latin Dance lessons; two stand-up comedy courses and one improv course; being a civilian officer with an Air Cadet Squadron and 15 years as a Toastmaster.

One of my proudest accomplishments is rappelling down a three story building Aussie style (face first), when I was involved with the Air Cadet Squadron about 17 years ago.

Bob

Robert Petersen:   The 4th of 9 children, Bob was born and raised in Kingston Ontario.  Bob married a Dublin gal, Maureen, in London, England in 1949.   They have 5 children.  Bob’s wife (nicknamed Penny) passed away in July of 2012.

In 1941, Bob became a member of the Air Cadets. In 1942 an Airforce Flying Instructor gave Bob a flight in a Harvard Training Aircraft and this gave him a thirst for a flying career.

Enlisting in the RCAF at age 17, Bob trained and graduated as an Air Gunner, and went on to serve as the rear gunner in a Lancaster Bomber in England attached to the Royal Air Force #100 Squadron

After WWII Bob served in both the Royal Air Force and Canadian Air Force and since retirement Bob continues his connections with friends in Aviation. 

Amalia

Amalia: I like challenges. I have lived over 87 years on this planet. I have seen many things and had many challenges.  Not many of them easy.   I always want to be active physically and mentally as I believe it is important to continue to do this for your whole life.   This is what the challenge of life is.

I sing, I act, I write...

and now I am learning computers!

Margot with classmates Amalia and Tutor Del.

 Margot:   I was born in Cologne, Germany in 1931 and I recently turned 82.   Hopefully my story, may in a small way, be of interest to future generations.

I have lived in many places including Israel, South Africa & Canada.  was extremely proud when the large company that I was working for in South Africa sent me to Malawi (we had a branch there) to each them the accounting systems used at Head Office, which was in Johannesburg.   I was there for a week and accomplished everything that was necessary.

I am a very ordinary person who adores her family, is very fond of animals and loves all kinds of music.

I also enjoy reading and movies and watching TV.

more bloggers!