Homecoming-Parenting Again

Zanzibar!

October 14, 2011 my son departed for the African continent.  More than 6 months later, he will soon return and my life will be changed, in ways I cannot yet predict.  Like many young adults, my son needed time to figure out where he wanted to take his life.  Together, we opted for time volunteering in Africa as a way for him to "get away" while giving back something.  His first 3 months were spent building civic projects in the hills of Eastern Ghana.  I know only a little of his time there but he lived with no electricity or running water in a place that was equatorial hot.  He met volunteers from all over the world and seemed to have his eyes opened to many things about himself, being American, and regarding world politics.  It seems work was easy as the Ghanaians are soooo friendly but not sooo hard working. He then traveled east to Tanzania where he lived in finer accommodations but had to struggle to teach English and math to students in an orphanage.  Again he met many people and gained insight into how hard teaching is, the impact of a tourist economy, and the beauty of Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Of course, it wasn't all hard work and no play-he did treat himself to a short but impressive (his experience) safari and a week on the spectacular beaches of Zanzibar-a place of which most of us can only dream.
His path home took him through England where he traveled to see family, family-friends, fellow volunteers from Africa and to pay tribute to his deceased grandparents.  During his time there, I know he has been scrubbed clean and obtained some fresh clothes-slowly shedding the layers of Africa from his ski, hair and cloth.  But I suspect even when he stands back on American soil, that Africa will not leave his system so easily.  How this experience will change him, our (and others) relationship, and his dreams and future plans, will only emerge slowly over time.  I will do what I can to support his re-entry but I too have learned things during his time away-I know I can never return to how we co-existed in past years, that I need not completely sacrifice my health and happiness to accommodate an "angry young man".  I know that being a good parent (mother) means more than opening a wallet, preparing a meal, lending the car, or greasing the way.  It is also letting go, allowing them to fall, forcing them to confront, refusing to lower standards, and holding your head high.  Parenting-the hardest work I have ever done and ever expect to do.
Wish me luck!

Journey Back Poland (Germany)-Final Berlin

Berlin Wall Remnants

Berlin was ultimately the perfect place to conclude our Mother-daughter "Roots" journey for a variety of reasons.  In planning the trip, it was natural to end in a city with an international airport and Berlin was also where my grandmother and grandfather last lived in Europe before fleeing to Haifa and then on to New York.  Berlin also offered a broader view of the history of Germany/Eastern Europe/the Jews than the smaller cities and villages where we had spent most of our time. Finally, Berlin today most definitely is looking forward and this energy, enthusiasm and optimism was the perfect balm to the grief and sadness that inevitably suffused much of our looking back and connecting with our personal and ethnic history.
After driving through primarily remote regions, our approach to Berlin served as an abrupt return to the 21st century with congested, interlacing roads with the requisite confusing signs-at least when keeping up with the pace of the Autobahn.  We found our hotel, perfectly located within walking distance of nearly all the important East Berlin sites with several convenient transportation hubs available to allow more expansive exploration.  My first great surprise was learning the hotel would arrange to have my rental car returned-that I would not have to negotiate the Friday evening rush hour traffic in central Berlin after all.  With my new found freedom,  I had time to set off to stretch my legs and explore our immediate neighborhood.  Mom rested and we made arrangements to enjoy a nearby Turkish restaurant for dinner.

Alexanderplatz

The next morning we took the U-bahn to Alexanderplatz-the meeting point for our guided tour on Jewish life in Berlin.  As much as I like exploring on my own, the right guide can really unveil the heart and soul of a city and that's just what happened. We saw smaller and larger memorials to the Holocaust and to the small but meaningful efforts at resistance-hearing stories little known of bravery but also of brutality.

In the heart of the old Jewish quarter, we also saw the Hackescher Hofe which have largely been rebuilt (gentrified) since the fall of the Wall and may be one of the ultimate representations of the rebirth of what was once a bleak East Berlin.  The tour culminated at the New Synagogue-a spectacular building completely renovated to serve as tribute to the once thriving Jewish community of Berlin.

New Synagogue

Hackescher Hofe

We said goodbye to our guide, hopped on another U-Bahn and headed to (Charlottenburg), the center of my grandparent's life during their married years.  The lovely Platz (square) was ringed with inviting cafes-just what we needed.  Then we set off up Knesebeckstrasse in search of my grandfather's store.  We easily found the first address and were lucky to get inside the lovely iron doors to look around.  It was an amazing feeling to think of my grandparents selling furs right on this spot to support the family.  We then wandered on to the second address.  This one was less obvious, especially as we had one photography of my Grandpa Henry standing in front of the store so we were trying to match not only the address but the door frame.  In the end, we linked them all and felt this confirmed when we walked around the corner and found a fire station-Mom immediately recalled her brothers talking about this.  We had been to their places of birth and to places where they were raised but somehow, this felt so much more tangible-like I could reach back through time and touch the lives of my ancestors.

Knesebeckstrasse

Knesebeckstrasse

We had paid our respects to our family and now we paid homage to history.  Though we were both exhausted-physically and emotionally-we headed to Checkpoint Charlie then wandered back along the remnants of the Berlin Wall.  While little remains of the physical structure-art, poetry and historical placards remind all of another challenging time in German history.  I deposited Mom at the hotel and with just a little time left, walked up to Berlin's monument to Jewish martyrs.  An entire large city block has been given over to this memorial which is both simple and moving.  I love the fact that tourists and Berliner's alike perch on the stark stone blocks to rest and remember-with signs of a rebuilt Berlin bursting forth in all directions.  I concluded by foot wearing day walking to, through and around the Brandenburg Gate.

Berlin's Memorial to Jewish Martyrs

Now, Mom and I could share a final meal together and celebrate all that is Scharf, Benzil, and Kranzer.  After donning our best attire, we headed to one of Berlin's restaurant stars: Rutz.  There we luxuriated over a spectacular 5 course meals accompanied by the best of German wines.  Certainly a fitting end to a very special adventure.

Naomi at our final meal at Rutz

Journey Back-Poland (Germany) 7 (Halberstadt)

Streets of Halberstadt

We don't know why my grandmother's family left Poland when she was three and moved to Halberstadt (200 km southwest of Berlin near to Magdeberg).  It may have been motivated by a particularly gruesome pogrom (there is historical evidence for this), by the need for better employment opportunity (there is the suggestion that my great-grandfather had trouble finding work), by the growing and thriving Jewish intellectual community, or my some combination of all of these.  What we do know is they were not the only family to make this move so they had a number of contacts and perhaps friends among from Smigrod among the community in Halberstadt. So perhaps it was fitting that when my mother and I arrived for our visit, we were greeted not only by our guide but by a visitor from Israel who was originally from Smigrod but who had grown up in Halberstadt (knew my great-grandmother) before fleeing the Nazi's as my family had done.  

Mom getting oral history

And so we settled in not only for lunch among resettled Russian Jews (who are the only current Jews inhabiting this city) but for tales of life in Halberstadt, including ones about our family.  A culinary and emotional treat!  I learned that my great-grandmother was known for her baking-the neighborhood children would gather outside her home when they knew she was baking in hopes of catching a morsel or two.  She also confirmed where my family lived so we were able to visit not only the street but see the actual home!  We had left a relatively short time to visit Halberstadt on our way from Poland to Berlin and after meeting this woman, I regretted our plan.  Here was a slice of history and our opportunity limited.  Fortunately, we also learned that in Israel, she lived near to our relatives ther and through the wonders of modern technology, she has now met them and has continued to relate her oral history and memories to us through them.  So the world may indeed be flat!

"Silk Bag"-my family's street

Mom in front of our family's home

One of our priorities in Halberstadt was to visit the grave of my great-grandfather.  For some reason, the Jewish cemeteries in Germany were sometimes left alone (I have previously written about the desecration of most of the ones in Poland) and we knew with advanced arrangements, we would be able to pay our respects.  Our guide first showed us around the remains of the synagogue, a lone wall standing in a semi-arranged garden as silent memorial to Nazi devastation.

Synagogue in Halberstadt-silent memorial

We then traveled through the other limited remains of what was once a thriving, prosperous intellectual center for Jews including a Mikva.  One of the former synagogues (Berend Lehman) has become the Moses Mendelssohn Academy serving as community center, gallery and overseer of Jewish history.  We then made the short trip to the large cemetery where we located Joshua's grave and said I said a silent Kaddish.  Here, more than anywhere else I had been on this trip, I felt inexorably connected to my ancestors.  I guess there is something to be said about gravestones as a palpable way to honor our past.

Soon after, we said goodbye-we had one final stop to make before returning home.  Following my grandmother's path, we pointed ourselves toward Berlin-where she traveled after marrying my grandfather.

Venice: First Look



My Venice



I have just returned from a fabulous, relaxing trip to Lake Garda, Venice, and London.  As soon as I returned, I was stuck into the whole Thanksgiving Holiday and am just now coming up for air.  I look forward to writing about some of my adventures and the highlights of this very special journey.  For now, I thought I would tempt you with my photographs.

Venice Photographs

Traveling: Happy Thanksgiving!

For the next week, I will be traveling through Venice and the Veneto.  When I travel, I like to remove myself from the routine as much as possible and for me that also means my connection to computers and the internet.  SO I will return around Thanksgiving time.  To all my readers, I am thankful that you are there and take the time to read my musings.  I hope you have a joyous, warm, and peaceful Thanksgiving holiday.

Journey Back-Poland 6 (Wroclaw)

Wroclaw Flower Market

From Tyczyn, the drive on to Wroclaw was long and arduous.  Despite significant growth and modernization, the main road of southeast Poland remains just two lanes with multiple lights and intersections.  As we approached the outskirts of Krakow, the road finally became highway and the pace picked up considerably.  As late afternoon arrived, we finally left the main road and navigated the usual bedlam of the old city.  Our hotel (Art Hotel), was just a 1/2 block from the Rynek where we headed once we had dropped our luggage and parked the car (no small feat in a teeny, underground lot).  Unlike most of our prior stops, Wroclaw-while enormously historic-had no specific, personal poignancy.  The city is the main city of Lower Silesia and is situated on 12 islands in the Oder River.  The city was part of Germany for much of its history (known as Breslau) accounting for architecture distinct from much of nearby Poland.  After WWII, the city was re-inhabited by Poles, many displaced from eastern Poland which had become part of Ukraine.  During the 1980s, Wroclaw was central in ousting Communist rule from Poland, orange graffiti gnomes were both secret communication and symbol of the revolution.  Today, small, nearly hidden gnome sculptures dot the streets in tribute to this past.

Wroclaw Gnome-symbol of resistance

Adjacent to the main square is Plac Solny (originally where salt was traded) which has become a colorful flower market surrounding a stunning fountain.  From there we wandered through the old city, across many bridges and through the streets of the historic university.  Some of the joy of the city was turning a corner and encountering an unusual piece of local art.

Wroclaw Civic Art

It was restorative to have a few hours to just wander and not concentrate on family or Holocaust history and the streets of Wroclaw were a perfect balm.  To rest our feet, we stopped at an outdoor cafe and sipped cool, local vodka and beer while watching the locals stroll by.

Wroclaw's amazing Rynek

After dinner, we couldn't resist the opportunity to return to the Rynek and we weren't disappointed.  The soft glow of the lights only highlighted the unique architecture and the brilliant fountain.  Some call this the Venice of Silesia...I can't really comment as I have not yet seen Venice (stay tuned as I am scheduled there in mid-November) but I can say that it seems a lively, vibrant, modern city steeped in history, science, education, and architecture.  A welcome respite.  The next day we would head back into Germany, following in my grandmother's footsteps.

Wroclaw Rynek at night

Going, Going, Gone

Last Thursday my husband drove both my son and me to JFK airport.  I was leaving on a routine flight west to San Francisco for a neurosurgery meeting.  My son was departing on a bit more of adventure.  Early that evening,  Daniel would begin his full day journey to Accra, Ghana and then on to the remote village of Akropong where he will live with a Ghanian family and work on building projects (schools, community buildings) for three months.  Like many late teenagers, Daniel had been been nothing short of challenging for much of the last few years and I had long anticipated the day he would depart for Africa-a chance to gain a little corner of peace and quiet.  So I was unprepared for the emotions that flooded through me when I had to finally hug him and say goodbye.  I spent much of the first part of the journey to California completely unable to complete any of the work I desperately needed to do.

A week has passed and we have received a very brief communication that he arrived safely and another with some very rudimentary details about his placement (he is an hour from the nearest internet cafe and cell phone reception is inconsistent and very expensive).  We do know it is very hot and that the work proceeds slowly as a result.  He has met many other volunteers and in one of those amazing coincidences, one grew up in the same town as his British father!  Perhaps he will make his way to an internet site this weekend and we can see some photos and hear more about his existence there. For now, I have made the decision-for reasons I can't really explain-that I will only communicate with him via hand-written letters.  Perhaps I think he will enjoy getting mail and perhaps it seems more personal and appropriate given where he is living.  It is strang being 2010 and having a loved one be away for a really extended period of time (7 months total) with little means of communication.  It takes me back to when I was growing up and even long-distance phone calls were unusual and very short.  It also reminds me how dramatically communications have changed in a relatively short period of time!

Daniel wanted to get away and to do something completely different that also helped mankind.  It seems he has accomplished that geographically.  I hope the emotional change will also be all that he seeks.  For me, I will be in New York waiting...yes enjoying the lack of mess, late nights, and overly boisterous behavior but also wondering what will great me when we reunite in May 2011.

Daniel leaving home for Ghana

Journey Back-Poland 5 (Rzeszow and Tyczyn)

Town Square Rzeszow

We arrived in Rzeszow (don't even try and pronounce it) following an extremely long and emotional day (we dropped our guide at his family home.)  Navigating the old city center to find our hotel-even with a GPS and detailed Google maps-proved a major challenge.  In the end, we succeeded through the kind help of a police escort-our first sign that we were in a special place.  And special it was!

New Synagogue Rzeszow

Old Synagogue Rzeszow

Our hotel looked out over the spectacular, colorful square seen above and was crowded with enthusiastic locals enjoying a sun-drenched drink while watching World Cup soccer on strategically placed huge screens.  the local tourist center had already closed but there was plenty of light so we followed our interpretation of the Polish map to find the two rebuilt synagogues.  I always find it amusing to see the "old" synagogue and the "new" nearly side-by-side.  These two were huge and spoke to the large population of Jews in the region for centuries as well as their relative prosperity and freedom.  Again I was directly confronted with the sweeping destruction Hitler promulgated in just a few short years.  A small plaque on the new synagogue gave a poignant tribute.

We slept and ate well, rising early for what we knew would be another long day.  Our guide rejoined us and we headed due south to Tyczyn, the family home of my grandfather.  The town dates back to 1398 and underwent the usual sequential sacking and pillaging through the ages ultimately becoming a part of Galicia (of the Austro-Hungarian empire).  The town square sat on a small hill, commanding control over the surrounding rural villages.  The Stryj River was nearby and served multiple purposes including swimming for the local boys!  We had spent some of our many driving hours reading a memoir of one of his brothers and had already learned about the remarkable mobility of this community-both during times of distress (pogroms) and for business (trading and commerce).  Unlike the villages we had visited the day before, the Jewish population of Tyczyn was relatively small (under 1000) and in the minority (though there were still two competitive synagogues).  As elsewhere in this region, the Jews were primarily shopkeepers.

Rynek Tyczyn

The town square was small and shaded, anchored by the Rynek (town hall).  Within the town hall we found the library where an extremely helpful woman showed us her impressive section of local history books.  While many were in Polish, just looking at the photos was worth the time though there was great focus on the many churches and Christian life.  Then suddenly she seemed to remember something and pulled out what looked like a college term paper-our guide grinned and translated: The Jews of Tyczyn! Here was gold-an entire treatise, even if it was in Polish.  After a set of negotiations, she agreed to let us take the manuscript to the one nearby copier so we could have it properly translated back home (I did leave my passport in exchange).  Just as we were about to leave with our precious document, she called us back, with the even more startling news that the author was still alive and living in Tyczyn!  More chaos ensued as our guide acquired the telephone number, called the author, was declined a visit.  Clutching our precious sheets, we emerged back onto the square, found the copier (hidden in the back of a tiny variety store) and began to circle the square to identify the crumbling remains of the synagogue when the next miracle struck-for some inexplicable reason, the author now called back and agreed to a visit!

For the next hour we were thoroughly entertained by a remarkably healthy 90 year old who managed through a combination of English, German and Polish to relate many memories about his life in the village.  During WWII he had been forced to serve in the German army (having been a Polish army officer before the occupation) but after being wounded, returned to witness some of the final carnage extracted upon the Jews.  His property bordered two important landmarks-one was a dilapidated, abandoned, crumbling home that he identified as belonging to the Tuchmans who were cousins of my mother!  Apparently no one wanted to disturb the building as it was known the last inhabitant were the mother and children who had been shot by the Nazis right near the village.  The second was the Jewish cemetery.  While the cemeteries we had seen in Smigrod and Dukla were chilling, the one in Tyczyn was overwhelmingly somber and distressingly sad.  The large plot is fenced and locked, access is almost impossible, and it is clear there is little care given to the place.  Through the fence, we could just glimpse one remaining tombstone-standing in silent witness and memorial.

Cemetery Tyczyn

We thanked our gracious guest, understanding just how special it was to have met and talked  with someone who walked the streets with my grandfather, who visited my great-grandfather's store and who had taken the time to write down what could have become the lost history of the Jews of this small town. As we left, Mom took a few mournful photographs of the Tuchman house, we claimed the copies of the manuscript, retrieved my passport and headed out of town.  A long drive was ahead of us-it would give us both time to ponder another rewarding, revealing but emotional day in eastern Poland.

Journey Back-Poland 4 (Smigrod and Dukla)

Zmigrod Seal

Now the time came for us to delve into the very personal portion of our journey.  Up to this point, we had gotten a taste for Jewish life in Poland but now we would visit the very cities and towns where our fore-bearers had been born, lived and worked.  To do this, we had hired a local guide who knew the area, had some experience with genealogical searches, and perhaps most importantly-spoke Polish.  We left Krakow and headed East into the foothills of the Carpathian mountains.  Our first challenge was traffic-usually bad in this rapidly developing part of the country but made impossible by recent floods that had rendered nearly all the local bridges impassable.  After driving for what seemed like hours, a kind trucker finally escorted us through a most convoluted route and delivered us very close to Nowy Zmigrod.  In preparation for this trip, I had found incredible information about Zmigrod and the surrounding region on shtetlinks.  The town had a long Jewish history dating back to the 15th century.  From then until WWII, the population of the town was about half Jewish.  Along with several surrounding towns, Zmigrod was an important component of the Ukrainian-Hungarian trade routes-critical in the wine/salmon/horse and timber trade.It was an important center of Jewish learning and boasted two elaborate synagogues!

Old Synagogue-Zmigrod

Unfortunately, there are few remnants of Jewish life in Zmigrod today.   After a stroll around the town square, we made a futile attempt to establish which buildings might have been the synagogues.  From our research, we had a map of the town at the turn of the 20th century but nothing connected-our forays into several local shops were rebuffed, the purveyors seemed concerned by our enquiries.  Next we tried the municipal center and after several false starts, we were directed to the cultural center, home of the local historian-an individual working hard to establish a Galician museum.  What luck! He was a treasure of information.  He had many old photographs of the town, showing the splendor of the square and of its Jewish heritage.  Later he proudly took us on a tour of the Jewish cemetery, just outside of town.

Cemetery Zmigrod

Covering more than four acres and four centuries,  the partially restored plots reflect the history of Zmigrod's Jews-up to their final slaughter (the 1250 men, women and children shot and buried in a mass grave in Halbow on July 7, 1942 have their own memorial).  While I could not read the Hebrew inscriptions, it was very special knowing there were people buried here who knew my grandmother when she was born, who worked beside my great grandparents, and perhaps even generations before them!  I was also struck by how different my grandmother's family life was from my mental images.
While I have little doubt that their lives were very difficult-like most of the rest of the world there was no electricity/refrigeration/automobiles- but they were considerably more mobile than I would have imagined.  Trade routes brought goods and people from Budapest, Prague, Warsaw and beyond.  I have since learned that the "Fiddler on the Roof" image was promulgated in part as propaganda to serve political  exigencies.  While my grandmother (Frieda) only lived in Zmigrod for a few years (more on her later history to come), this was her first home and the documented home of her father and as such, represented for me a generational connection of great importance and I was commensurately moved.

Rabbi's grave Zmigrod

From Zmigrod, we traveled 8 short miles to Dukla-home of Frieda's mother.  This town is strategically situated at the lowest and easiest pass through the Carpathian mountains-a critical link between Hungary, Slovakia, and Poland (the Austro-Hungarian Empire).  It was a prosperous trading town that was more than 80% Jewish.   An old baroque palace (of Mecinski) remains the only real evidence of Dukla's former glory.  The original town square is quite large and an ornate, but now decrepit, Town Hall commands the central place.  Several of the building around the square had clear evidence of former mezzuzah (a religious ornament placed on the door frame) but no Jewish life remains.  We took pictures of every house here in hopes that one day we may determine where my great-grandmother lived.  Dukla did have a small tourist center where we got directions to both the synagogue and the cemetery.  I also bought a spectacular little book of late19th and early 20th century post-card photographs of the town (it is written in Polish but the pictures tell enough fo a story).

Synagogue remains, Dukla

The synagogue was built in 1758 (nearly 20 years BEFORE the Declaration of Independence) but like most of Polish-Jewish life was destroyed during WWII.  Today, the external brick structure remains as an eerie monument that I found more poignant than many "official" memorials.  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my great-grandmother, standing in the women's galleries, praying within these walls.  And I thought also about how this woman took her family out of Poland to Germany-the beginning of the journey that had now come full circle with our visit here.
The Jewish cemetery would be our next stop in Dukla and I was glad we saved it for last.  By now, we expected the graves to be desecrated but devoted locals have worked to restore what they could to a state of honor with a respect for the departed.  I watched my mother wander through the few rows of tombstones and I felt a deep ache in my heart for all the sad history of repression, pogroms, and death that have despoiled the lovely Galician hills and the nearby mountains that we splendidly visible from the hillside position of the cemetery.  I had seen Auschwitz-Birkenau, Schindler's Factory, the Krakow ghetto, and more but for the first time, tears sprang to my eyes.  Why this spot in Dukla helped serve as my catharsis I will never know but I sensed my mother felt similarly and we returned to the car and began the long drive onto to Rzeszow in silence.

Cemetery, Dukla

Journey Back-Poland 2 (Krakow)

Stara synagogue

Jewish Cemetery Krakow

Krakow is a city rich in history with an impressive castle, a magnificent and imposing central square, and one of the oldest universities in Europe (counting Copernicus and Pope John Paul II as graduates).  A thriving Jewish community emerged though they were "relocated" to Kazimierz by King Kazimierz the Great in 1335.  Here they lived, worked and played until the death knoll tolled in 1939 with the Nazi invasion of Poland.   The first full day of our "Roots Adventure" would explore   a critical slice of the history of Krakow by tracing Jewish life there-from economic and intellectual pinnacle to ghetto to deportation and then on to Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Today, one can still visit more than 7 surviving synagogues within a few city blocks. The Stara (old) synagogue has been lovingly restored and now serves as a museum.  Most evocative for me was the cemetery-which sustained extensive damage at the hands of the Nazis but now has a serenity that pays tribute to the contribution of Jews to Poland and Krakow.  In addition, pieces of damaged and desecrated tombstones found throughout Krakow (the Nazis classically used them to build roads) have been fashioned into an evocative memorial.

Krakow's "Wailing Wall"

Kazimierz has now become one of the most fashionable districts of Krakow and side by side with Jewish historical sites are cafes, art galleries, restaurants and expensive apartments.  I also learned of a fascinating connection to NYC through General Kosciuszko-who fought in the Revolutionary War (for which he is honored by a bridge between Queens and Brooklyn) and then exported those radical ideas to his homeland to foster an uprising against both Russia and Prussia.  

Memorial at Plaszow Concentration Camp

We then followed the plight of the Jews across the Vistula River to Podgorze, the site of the ghetto.  Here I heard the inspiring tale of a pharmacist (non-Jewish) who refused to move his store after the Jewish resettlement and then served as a conduit for black market supplies, secret meetings of the Jews and escape! (The Pharmacy under the Eagle)  This was the first of many heroic stories we would hear of "ordinary" individuals who would try and save people from the Holocaust.  The main square of the ghetto is now marked by a striking sculpture of empty chairs which contrasts strikingly with the frenetic traffic of a thriving Krakow whizzing by.  Other than this memorial, the ghetto has otherwise been erased by modern Krakow with just two small remnants of the ghetto wall still standing (most who survived life in Krakow's ghetto were deported  east to Belzec).  The final stop in our exploration of Jewish life in Krakow the Plaszow Concentration/Labor camp.  This small but deadly camp was located adjacent to the ghetto and run by a brutal, sadistic commander.  As the Soviet's approached near the end of the war, the camp was abandoned and the remaining prisoners marched to Auschwitz.  Today, the site is a designated park inhabited only by trees, wildlife and a striking sculpture that looks away from Krakow toward Auschwitz-Birkenau. 
In just 4 hours, I had followed a history that spanned hundreds of years.  We all study the Holocaust but somehow, tracing the history of this long-standing, thriving Jewish community (65,000 pre-war) to complete decimation gave me greater insight and of course, great sadness.
But our day was barely half over-now we departed for Auschwitz-Birkenau...

Coming Soon

Been traveling and teaching for two weeks then the requisite hell week catching up on return but have some wonderful things to share and know that life has begun to return to a "normal" rhythm so the blogs will soon flow again.  Look for:
Travels with Mom I: Roots in Polish villages
Travels with Mom II: A Sobering Visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau
Return of the children: It's summer and the kids are back in town

Worldwide medical community: the beauty of coming together

MarianPlatz, Munich June 2010

My Dinner Conversation

The Place and Time: Lyon, May 2010
Setting: Dinner Meeting at Brassier Nord, a Michelin star chef's local digs
Players: Neurosurgeons from France, England, German, and me (USA)
Theme: Medical systems: What works and doesn't
(Preliminary Info: All sitting at the table are pretty tops in field)

On a recent lecture tour in France, I sat back and listened to a remarkable discussion revealing the mixed assessments of physicians of mixed how successful their own medical delivery system worked-for both themselves (physicians) and themselves (patients).  Highlights:

Germany: Two tiered system.  Everyone must have insurance, responsibility is on individual (not employee), if you can't pay you get it anyhow, and if you earn enough you can opt out and get "private insurance."  Biggest catch for patient:  Once you opt for private, there is no going back!  Biggest catch physician: Little motivation for innovation, working hard, etc when on straight salary.

France:  Subtle two tiered system, everyone insured by state, private insurance allowed for upgraded service.  Increasing numbers opt private leaving the public system in tailspin.  Biggest perceived challenge: "fraternity" not fair that some have better than others! For doctors-the allure of the dollar is strong so they would rather spend their time in the private sector.

UK: Once the quintessential socialized system, now two-tiered and highly regulated.  Also crunched by work hour restrictions on house staff resulting in both workforce and competency issues.  Patient challenge:  wait times.  Physician challenge: highly regulated and little opportunity for creativity.  Leading edge of outcomes/quality assessment that I've encountered.

The US is entering a period of transition for our medical system.  There is so much propaganda flying around about the failings of other systems.  This dinner conversation proved many important things to me.  First, certainly no medical delivery system is perfect and effecting positive change in any system is excruciatingly slow.  Delivery of medicine is ever more complex, time consuming and less remunerative for physicians.  However, no one will argue that maintaining the status quo is just not a viable option.