When you spend over an hour outside on a day like today, chances are you come back with some interesting tidbits.  From that perspective I am certainly not disappointed.  My possible imminent evacuation aside, most of what I heard was informative and fascinating.  I spoke with 2 firemen at Engine 23 on 58^th Street.  One in particular shared with me some of his experiences from the past few days.  As he described it, their firehouse was the first on the ticket for the fires in Rockaway.  They arrived there but were unable to make it through due to the amounts of water making it impossible to get close enough to the fires.  At this point they were rerouted to Breezy Point.  They were not first on the scene, but they did end up remaining there till 6 in the morning.  Unable to get water to fight the fire from hydrants, they pulled water from the scene itself, the deep water they were working in, and flushed it through their machinery and hoses.  Jellyfish were getting caught in the hoses, and as the fireman I was speaking to described it, he kept expecting to see sharks swim at their feet.  As we’ve all heard already from so many sources, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.  He also told me how one of his fellow firemen brought his family up to the stationhouse earlier to shower since he had no power or water in his home downtown.  At this point a call came in and the chief said to the guy in a comforting tone, you take this one call and then you can go home.  I thanked them both for their time and walked to the avenue.

On the way there I saw a police van and thanked them for all that they do.  One of the cops thanked me and said, “a lot of people hate us”.  I gave him the response I always give whenever anyone complains about the police. “Try living a day without them”.  I asked if I would have any trouble getting back in and the cop behind the wheel smiled and said, “Not as long as we are here”.

At this point I walked to 58^th and 8^th.  I stood near the barrier where a man I recognized as CBS reporter John Miller was talking with a woman who I am guessing was a producer.  He was speaking about the different angles from which they photographed the hanging crane and how he was speaking with someone who said they got all angles.  At this point, not being shy at all, I showed him and his producer the video I took of the crane from 58^th street, looking up at it close to the peak of the storm, and showed the crane swaying in the wind.  This encounter ended when an official asked them if they wanted to come past the barrier and get a better look.  I then walked down 8^th Avenue and felt an eerie similarity to 9/11/2001 when I saw throngs of people walking uptown.  I felt an ironic comfort in the fact that there were many people walking in a hurry.  In New York that resembles normalcy.

I then decided to head back home but the barricade I came out of was now blocked up so I walked around till I found my way back into the cordoned off area.  I walked to 58^th and 7^th Avenue where a police officer told me that there was a likelihood that all the buildings in the areas cordoned off, my building included, would be forced to evacuate when they were ready to make the attempt to remove the hanging piece of the crane.  My conversation here ended when some tourists walked through the barrier and the policeman I was speaking with got mildly yelled at for not paying close enough attention.  Sorry officer.

A man who was a civilian was past the barricade and discussing strategies regarding the repair or removal of the crane with the police and the OEM (Office of Emergency Management) official at the location.  There was clearly some sort of disagreement on what strategy to use and the civilian seemed a little frustrated.  For some reason when speaking with one policeman about how to safely handle the dangling part of the crane he was looking towards me as though he was addressing me as well.  This was all I needed as an opening to put in my 2 cents.  I asked if it was possible to make it to the top, grab hold of the dangling metal and attempt to lower it slowly to the ground.  He seemed to get excited and said something along the lines of “finally someone who agrees with me”.  I’m not sure his credentials got stronger in my eyes because he agreed with me, a person who is the furthest thing from a crane expert, but who knows?  Maybe I got lucky.  I asked him who he was and he pointed to the thin black building next to the building with the crane and said he was the manager of that building.

I then asked the OEM Official what was going on and he answered me politely and in detail.  This is what he told me.   The area right below the crane is what is called a “Hard Zone”.  It means it is the most dangerous and no one can be on the street in that zone unless they are an official involved in the process of repair or protection.  All the areas in the radius that are cordoned off are known as “Soft Zones”.  Once the process of actually dealing with the hanging piece of the crane begins, all Soft Zones will become Hard Zones.  The decision they need to make is whether or not they evacuate everyone in the current Soft Zone or just inform the residents in the buildings, that includes yours truly, and hope they listen to the extent that if nothing else, they at least stay indoors.  Stay Tuned. I know I will.

Over the past few days, having followed the events of Hurricane Sandy, I witnessed many individuals, politicians,  and media outlets drop their normal agenda to address the most important issues at hand.  Although nothing I can say or do in my forum will have anything close to the importance or significance of what I’ve seen done by others, I am nevertheless following that lead to write this following piece.

I’ve lived in New York since 1985.  For many who live here the past few days brings back memories of various events to impact the city, most notably the blackout of 2003 and of course the attacks on 9/11.  The blackout of 2003 and the 9/11 attacks are of course enormously different events.  9/11 saw the murder of 3 thousand people and impacted tens of thousands more either directly or indirectly on that day.  It was a devastating event that caused fear, sadness and anger.  Although the blackout of 2003 impacted millions directly on that day, it was far less significant than 9/11.  It was an easy day to get past and for many even to look back at with a smile.  For some, myself included, the blackout of 2003 was actually a fun day.

What struck me as the most important similarity between the 2 days was the ability of New Yorkers to properly distinguish between them, primarily in regards to their reaction and behavior.  New York stood out for the entire world on 9/11 in the way sadness and anger mixed with resolve, kindness, and determination.  Unless you were here for the blackout, what you would not know is that on that day New Yorkers got it as well.  They had it in the right perspective, dealt with it, and even made the most of it.  This ability to know the right way to react, and instinctively understand the level of importance of situations, was something I witnessed once again these past few days.

Upon its approach Hurricane Sandy was being referred to as the perfect storm.  Part of its “perfection” was that it had a more direct negative impact on more people in NY than any event I’ve witnessed.  9/11 impacted everyone emotionally, many directly.  Sandy impacted almost everyone directly in one way or another.  But true to New York form, the resolve and perspective has been remarkable.  It is hard to explain, but I will give it my best shot.  No one makes light of all the damage done and although minimal, the loss of life is the greatest loss there is, but there are different levels of loss and devastation.  Families that lost their homes in fires and flooding are devastated in a way that everyone would expect, but they seem to take solace in their survival and in the support of the entire community.  It is very clear that when things get bad in New York people bond together in a very special way.  It doesn’t matter if it is Queens, Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, or the Bronx.  When part of New York gets hit, all of New York gets hit.  What happens to one happens to all.  All people feel it in one way or another.  And of course the New York City Police and Fire Departments perform as they always do, with strength, conviction, and competence.

Everyone’s hearts go out to all those who suffered these past few days in all places impacted by this devastating storm, and courage and strength has been shown by so many people all over the country, but because of what I see every time New York city is in crisis, and the great respect and appreciation I have for the way New Yorkers conduct themselves when it matters most, I once again feel honored and humbled to live in what I consider to be the greatest city in the world.

To all of you affected by the storm everywhere, I wish you a quick and safe recovery.

In a word where the most basic emotions and actions are very different than they once were, I offer to you 2 excerpts from the book Jew Face.  The first excerpt speaks of one of the most powerful moments in the history of my parents, Nardus and Sipora Groen and the second excerpt is a story of love and tragedy that represents the period between 1940-45 as well as any story in the book.  On a personal level, it is the story that moves me more than any other, and even having written the story often brings tears to my eyes.  It is the story of my father’s sister and brother in-law, Aaron and Elizabeth Mozes.

Excerpt 1

Although Sipora lay on her back with her eyes shut, she was still very much awake. So many thoughts were racing through her head. It was not so long ago that she was engaged to marry Hans. They were going to plan their wedding and live a good life together. She had a degree of physical intimacy with Hans, being that they were in love and planning to get married. However, neither of them had any intention of consummating the relationship before their betrothals. This was how it was done in good families in the 1930s and 1940s, and Sipora never had any problem with this. It was never an issue. They would be married, and only then would they fully live as man and wife.

 That was then, and this was now. The man lying next to her was not Hans and was not her husband. The man lying next to her was Nardus. The man who had brought her through hell and stayed with her.

 After Willem Van de Berg had let them into the house, he was kind enough to provide them with a little bit of food and offered them both shelter. Sipora was to stay in a spare room in the house, and Nardus was to stay in the barn. In the morning, Van de Berg was going to take Sipora to an acquaintance that was looking for help on his ship. He knew the man was looking for a woman to keep the ship clean and organized; Van de Berg was confident that the man would not care that Sipora was Jewish. They were to go there first thing in the morning, but first they would get a decent night’s sleep.

 There had been a feeling between Nardus and Sipora that was new to them both. They did not want to be apart, but they were not given the option. Van de Berg had decided they should be separated. What he did not know was that Nardus and Sipora had arranged that she would leave the window open so that he could come into her room. So forty-five minutes or so after everyone had said good night, and after the lights had dimmed in the Van de Berg household, Nardus quietly snuck from the barn and walked around the house till he found the open window he was looking for.

 He knew this window meant a lot more than just a way into the house. This open window could very well change things forever. Till now, despite his strong feelings for Sipora, Nardus knew that he had just been a guardian for her. In many ways, he was her savior and friend and nothing else. He was fine with that, because this was not something she had asked from him, this was something he had chosen to do. He was in love with her, a kind of love that at this point in time required no reciprocity, just an openness toward him necessary to allow him to do what needed to be done. As commanding and in control as he had been regarding their movements, Nardus was not at all forceful or demanding when it came to any degree of affection from Sipora. Yes, he wanted her, but he was not going to push her. He first wanted to make sure she was safe. Only then would he concern himself with their relationship.

 Many things had changed, however. This day that started in one Van de Berg’s house and ended in another’s, had been filled with so many potential life-changing events that he and Sipora were different people than they had been when they had woken up. Emotions had changed, attitudes were adjusted, and all logic had been altered. Their lives were different, their feelings were different, and their perceptions would likely never be the same. Nardus knew when he found the open window that what would take place would be a lot more than sex. The consummation of this relationship would go beyond sex. It would be a bond that would tie them together for as long as they would live. And tonight, after the events of a very long day, neither one of them knew how long that would be.

 Right and wrong had taken on new meaning in their world. Before the Nazi occupation, people lived freely. People were not arrested just for being what they were, and people were not randomly beaten and killed. The Nazi occupation had changed everything. Right and wrong? This was now about life and death. Good and evil. Neither Sipora nor Nardus knew what tomorrow would bring. They knew that the chances of being dead were as good as the chances of being alive. And they knew that tonight they had each other. Nardus felt calm and alive. Sipora felt comforted and safe. Two years ago, sleeping next to a man who was not her husband, in the house of strangers, and having reached the pinnacle of intimacy would have been wrong. Tonight it was right. Especially with the uncertainty of tomorrow.

 This was about something a lot more important than sex, far more important than Sipora losing her virginity. This was about life and about hope. If they were to go on, it was going to be together.

 But first they both needed to survive.

Excerpt 2

With the raids increasing in frequency, the population of Nardus’s neighborhood was diminishing in size with startling regularity and consistency. He and Jacques, together with other members of the growing underground Resistance, were doing all they could to help people either get out or at the very least delay or diminish their perils.

 Jacques played the greatest role within Nardus’s close circles in the provision of false papers. These papers indicated that the person in question had been baptized and was no longer a practicing member of the Jewish faith. Jacques was able to get papers to Nardus’s brother Meyer and his wife Roe, and his brother David and his wife Martha. He also had papers for himself and his wife, Nardus’s sister Sofia, and one for Nardus himself.

 While Jacques was trying to secure papers for his sister-in-law, Elizabeth Groen, and her fiancé Aaron Mozes, he had managed to acquire papers for Leendert and Marjan Groen. They refused to accept them, being that it required them to, at least in public, denounce their belief in Judaism and the Jewish way of life. With Elizabeth living at home with her parents, Jacques was hopeful that through Aaron Mozes, he might have a chance of saving his young sister-in-law.

 Aaron’s mental state never recovered after he was released from Amersfoort, making it back to where it had been a few years back; this made the acquisition of acceptable papers as well as his cooperation far more difficult. Elizabeth loved Aaron and would not leave his side, but she knew that the man she loved today was not the man she had fallen in love with a few years back. The time he had spent in Amersfoort had taken such a toll on his emotional and physical state, that even once Jacques acquired the correct papers, his safety would be far from guaranteed. His weakened condition put him in danger regardless of what paperwork he was carrying.

 Despite all of this, Elizabeth’s love for Aaron was unwavering. She would stay with him and hope that the world as it was unfolding before them would allow them some sort of life together. One thing she did know for certain: Whether she was with Aaron or not, neither she nor anyone else around her was safe. If the dangers existed anyway, she might as well bring some joy into their lives, no matter how short lived that joy would be.

 On September 28, 1942, Elizabeth met with Aaron at his parents’ to discuss their plans. After speaking with his parents, Elizabeth planned to talk with hers. Had these been normal times, Aaron would have been there with her, but it was getting later in the day and being outside past midday was becoming more and more of an unnecessary risk to take.

 Feeling a comfort and happiness in her decision didn’t take away the nervousness Elizabeth felt as she walked into the living room to sit and talk with her parents. She was a twenty-one-year-old woman, yet she was still their little girl, and living at home; whatever she would do in her life would, as a matter of respect, require her parents’ knowledge and approval. Elizabeth knew what she wanted to do, and with Leendert and Marjan Groen being Jewish parents with old-fashioned values, she knew she required their blessing.

 When she walked in, her father was sitting and reading, as her mother sat with a cup of hot tea.

 “Papi and Mami,” she said in a tired, yet determined voice, “I need to speak with you about something very important.”

 Seeing the seriousness in his daughter’s eyes, Leendert answered immediately. “What is wrong, my child?”

 “I want to marry Aaron,” she said, getting straight to the point. Knowing that her parents already knew that the two had been planning to marry, Elizabeth continued without pause, making the point she really needed to make. “I, we, want to do it tomorrow. Every day more people are being taken away, to God knows where, and I may not ever get the chance to be Mrs. Aaron Mozes if I do not do this soon.”

 Leendert looked over at his wife. She was not a woman to be expressive with her emotions and would, on most occasions, defer to Leendert to make the statements of affection toward their children. She was a loving and caring mother, but her personality was one that did not normally allow her to show emotion. Today would be one of those exceptions. She and Leendert looked at each other, communicating to each other an understanding of all that was going on and may continue to go on. Knowing that her husband felt just as she did, Marjan spoke for both of them as she said, “It will be our joy to see you marry Aaron. Both your father and I give you our blessing and look forward to tomorrow.”

 Leendert sat back smiling as he saw his daughter’s eyes light up.

 “I’ll speak to the rabbi,” he said. “We can do this early tomorrow morning. He will find the way to get this done, I am sure.”

 Elizabeth hugged them both, laughing and crying at the same time. She would be a bride in what was a very sad time. She left her parents in the living room and went to put together the best outfit she could find.

 In the living room, without saying a word to each other, Leendert and Marjan looked into each other’s eyes once again. Leendert saw the joy in his wife’s eyes turn to sadness. She then looked away from him and dropped her head, praying to herself that her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law would have an opportunity to enjoy their lives together.

 As he had promised his daughter, Leendert Groen made all the necessary arrangements for his daughter’s wedding the following morning. The ceremony was held in a shop, formerly owned by one of their friends and now being run by a former employee who was decent and sympathetic to the plight of the Jewish community. Everyone moved toward the back, where they would not be visible from the street. The ceremony met all the requirements of Jewish law, which included four men, each holding a corner of a prayer shawl over the heads of the bride and groom, creating the traditional “Chupah” or wedding canopy. The service was brief but joyful. As Aaron stepped on the glass cup, shattering it into pieces, signifying the last component of the ceremony, whatever family and friends that had been able to be present let out a roar of “Mazal Tov!” (“Congratulations”).

 Times being as they were, the opportunity to celebrate beyond this point just did not exist. Aaron and Elizabeth didn’t care. They were now married and could at least hope to live their days together as a couple.

 With the Green Police patrolling the neighborhood, not only was it not safe for Jews to stay out on the street for a long time, it was also not advisable for them to congregate for any significant length of time. So when the family and wedding guests left the shop, they decided to do so in incremental fashion. Marjan and Leendert left first, followed by most of their family and many of Aaron’s family. When they arrived home, just three blocks away, they heard what were now the familiar and ominous sounds of Nazi vehicles driving through the area. They heard the cars and trucks stopping and soldiers shouting; another raid had begun.

 The feeling of helplessness on this day for Leendert and Marjan Groen was immeasurable. Their youngest daughter, their little girl, had just gotten married, not even an hour earlier, and now all they could do was wait. Wait and sit, and pray, that she and Aaron would be safe and that they would see them again.

 Two hours later, Jacques Baruch walked through the doorway of Leendert and Marjan Groen’s house. Leendert stood and approached him as Marjan looked on, not moving from her spot. The expression on Jacques’s face told them the news they were so terrified to hear, but as of yet had not confirmed.

 Jacques shook his head slowly from side to side, the anguish evident in his face.

 Leendert opened his mouth and in saying the two names, formed the question all three in the room knew needed to be asked.

 “Elizabeth and Aaron?” The names came off his lips, the dread evident in his tone.

 Jacques put his head down, not able to look at his in-laws’ faces, and just said, “They’re gone.”

 There was no stopping in Westerbork for Aaron and Elizabeth Mozes. The trip to the death camp was direct and the newlyweds became two of the latest victims of the Nazi killing machine. They both perished in Auschwitz.