Ohio day 2

September 11

I didn't sleep well. I was intent on adding to my blog so I took my laptop to bed with me and woke up several times during the night to try to compose a few more paragraphs. But I fell asleep each time after having added no more than a line or two. Whatever the thought was I had in my head when I succumbed to slumber, it stayed in my head like a jittering stuck video frame until I woke up again and typed the thought into the file. The light in my room stayed on all night as I tried to write in vain. It's a good thing Razelle had slept in the van. I would have disturbed her sleep along with mine had she been in the room. By morning I was sleep deprived and another day lay ahead of us. I considered pushing back the fatigue with a strong cup of coffee, but there was no instant coffee in the house. We had instant coffee in the van, but I didn't want to go out there and disturb Razelle until she was ready to wake up. I gave up trying to write by dawn and slept until 9:00 AM. My ability to function well after that was perceptibly affected the rest of the day. Ivan rescued me partially when he made some filter coffee for us. The amount he made was less than a cup's worth, but it was strong and it helped prop me up.

Ben was scheduled to come in the morning from Saline, MI, near Ann Arbor, to visit us. I have never come to Toledo without informing Ben I would be here, and he has never failed to visit me each time. The same is true for Deryl, my best friend from high school, but on this trip we chose to go to Deryl instead of having him come to us. Ben arrived alone a bit behind schedule, as his wife couldn't come with him. He remembered meeting Razelle a long time ago when we were newlyweds. He had also met Shalev when I brought him to the States in 2002. We had a wonderful visit with Ben; he and I have a similar temperament and sense of humor; the atmosphere is so comfortable and conversation so easy for me when he comes to visit. Many times I have found myself comparing this level of comfort with Ben to the effort it takes to make small talk with others I only have a casual acquaintance with.  It's a shame we could only fit in an hour with him. Razelle and Miriam and I had tasks to accomplish and appointments to keep so we had no choice but to tear ourselves away and thank Ben for coming. 

We all got into Miriam's car and left the van in her driveway. Along with a few other errands Miriam needed to take care of we were going shopping at Costco. Razelle has not experienced Costco. This is one of those experiences a visitor to the USA must not miss while they are here. Everything in the store comes in huge restaurant-size quantities, in multiple-item packages or at prices that are too tempting to pass up. But you can't shop there without an escort. This escort must be a venerable, card-carrying member of the Costco club. Miriam was our escort. Without her, there would not have been a Costco experience to recount in this blog.

During the last trip I took to the States several months ago in December I bought some jeans at Costco. I really like these jeans, but I have lost a little more weight since that trip and if I were able to get these same jeans in a smaller size Razelle and I would be happy for me to have them. To do this meant buying several different sizes at the cash register with your escort at your side, trying them on in the bathroom stalls and then returning the items that didn't fit with your escort at your side, and then going back for more pairs of what did fit and buying these, too, with your escort at your side. I lost my cool with the staff (I actually didn't have any to begin with because of the sleep deprivation). We didn't have time for these games. But we did it their way and now I have some flattering jeans to wear.

Razelle had hoped to be dropped off at Miriam's before our next stop but Miriam didn't understand this. Razelle was stuck with our plans once we got to B'nai Israel, the synagogue where we had prayed yesterday. Today we were going to hear Philip Markowicz, a long-standing member of our local Jewish community, give a talk about his holocaust experience. Phil read every word of his talk from his typed notes and because he has a European accent, not every word was clear. It also was a long talk, lasting an hour and a half. I heard half of it. I couldn't keep from being overcome by my sleep deprivation and I only hope that my somnolence was not sonorous. What I did hear, however, was the story of survival against all the odds – a harrowing story of inhumane treatment and a miraculously timed anonymous act of human kindness. Phil spoke of how his brother kept him alive when his own strength was hard to find, and of his ultimate rescue at the end of the ordeal. I was struck by how much Phil's story paralleled that of Yehuda and Sinai's story, the boys my father rescued at the end of the same war. I rose to applause Phil at the end of his talk, as did the rest of his audience. He deserved the ovation.

Phil had written a book, entitled "My Three Lives" and this talk covered only one part of it. After his talk he sat in the lobby behind a table and signed copies of his book. I bought one when I saw that he had a chapter about his daughter Dina, who died at 19 and whose death affected me at the time and will always haunt me. I very badly wanted to share this with Phil but couldn't find a way to mention it. He signed my book and told me I would find answers to how he dealt with her death in the chapter he wrote about her.

Phil had been Barry's first employer at his television repair shop. He remembered Barry and asked a few questions about how he's doing today. I think it was Phil who got Barry started on the career he has advanced in ever since. I'm glad Phil lit up the way he did when he remembered Barry. I also thought I recognized Phil's daughter Sylvia in the crowd. I approached her and was delighted when she confirmed this. Sylvia is one day older than I am (I've always remembered this) and my mother took her to Hebrew school in our car pool with the other kids our age way back when. This was the first time I've seen Sylvia in decades, probably not since Dina's funeral.

It was very propitious that this event had occurred during our visit to Toledo on this round-the-world trip. It added a dimension I could never have planned. I will come away from this visit to Toledo with important answers to questions that have lingered all this time about Dina. When I get back to Beer Sheva, I have to read Phil's book.

After the talk, we went out to eat with Miriam and Ivan. Ivan came in his own vehicle to join us at the restaurant that Razelle has developed such an affinity for. Each of us had special demands for exactly how the food should be prepared. The waitress took it all down cheerfully and didn't even flinch when Razelle let fly a comment in jest that made the rest of us flinch. We enjoyed the food and the service and the company around the table.

Then we went shopping again.

This time we went to a Kohl's department store. Razelle and Miriam went in one direction, Ivan and I in another. I had bought the pocket T-shirts I like so much at this enterprise the last time I was in Toledo and I was back for more. I selected several colors, tried one on in the isle and was done. The ladies were surprised I was back so fast with my arm-load of T-shirts. I have a reputation for taking forever when I go shopping, to the point that no one wants to go with me when I do (and that's fine with me). One color I particularly liked did not appeal to Razelle, but I overrode her veto. (Miriam liked the color on me, even if Razelle didn't; Ivan didn't say.) The only complication was that they didn't have my size in that color in this store. Miriam explained that with the coupons she was using to make all these purchases worthwhile, combined with the sale price that only lasted until the store closed that evening, I could still buy the wrong size here and then exchange it for the right size at a different branch of Kohl's after the sale was over without having to pay more there. The clerk called around, found a branch near where Mom is, and I bought the shirt in the wrong size. Amazing how these things work in America! Ya gotta live here to keep track of it all. And coupons, how do we live without these in Israel?

That pretty much sums up this day in Toledo. We returned to Miriam and Ivan's with the glow of shopping in our hearts and good food in our tummies. Razelle headed for the van and I went up stairs. Sleep beckoned me this night and I put off writing the blog until I could catch up on the sleep I'd missed the night before. I turned off the lights and slept deeply.