STUMPTOWNBLOGGER

Okay, one more Manny story, then we’ll get back to Indictment Watch ‘23 and Iraq War +20. I’ve shared parts of this before, but not all of it.

My dad had a burning obsession over the Holocaust. His side of the family lost so many relatives. In 2007, he told me he wanted to go see for himself where it all happened. So he signed up with an outfit called “Elderhostel” (which has since changed its name to Road Scholar) to take a tour of Eastern Europe. I was gobsmacked.

“And mom agreed to go along with you on this trip?”

“No. God, no. She wanted nothing to do with it. I’m going by myself, but I’ll join up with about 25 others, mostly from New England and Canada.”

“Well how’s about if I go with you? And maybe try to talk Mark (my brother) into joining us?”

So Mark and my dad flew out from San Francisco to Stuttgart, I flew out from Portland. We had only the vaguest of plans how we’d connect once there. When I landed, I walked through the gate, glanced over my shoulder, and there were Mark and my dad walking through the next gate. We literally arrived within moments of each other.

After lunch and a few beers at the airport, we flew to Budapest, where this picture was taken. We joined up with the rest of the Elderhostel folks and started our tour, which I must say, was very impressive. The hotels, the restaurants, the coaches, the guides, everything was top-notch.

From Budapest we traveled by coach to Brno in Slovakia, then to Prague in Czechia, and finally to Poland. All along the way, we learned of the fate of our extended family. My dad took copious notes, which he compiled into a journal on his computer when we got back. We toured castles, went to a performance of the Prague Symphony, and of course; Auschwitz, Płaszów, Terezín, and a few other smaller concentration camps.

Even though the subject matter was pretty grim, it was a wonderful trip. My dad literally got it all out of his system. I’m almost reluctant to use the word, but he found the closure he was seeking on that trip. (And I got to know more than I wanted to know about my brother… his snoring is indistinguishable from the launch of a Saturn 5 rocket.)

Keep in mind the age makeup of this group. My dad, who turned 88 while on that trip, was the oldest. At 55, I was the youngest. Most of the men on the tour were World War II veterans.

There was one guy from Boston named Marty, who kept asking my dad what he did during the war. Marty was a sailor onboard a destroyer near Tokyo Bay at the end of the war. It’s been estimated that if Japan hadn’t surrendered and the allies were forced to invade the Japanese home islands, there could be as many as 500,000 to 1,000,000 killed. The guys onboard those ships were scared shitless.

My dad, reluctant to talk about it, kept brushing him off. Finally, when we were in Krakow, Marty said “Come on Manny. It’s no shame if you didn’t serve. Were you in school all during the war?”

That did it (I witnessed this).

“No, I was working on the Manhattan Project.”

“You built the bomb?”

“No, Robert Oppenheimer built the bomb. My team made the plutonium for it.”

<<< Loooooooooooong pregnant pause >>>

Then finally, Marty said; “I guess that means you saved my life.” His jaw trembling a little bit,
eyes tearing up, he reached out and the two men hugged.

It was the perfect finale to a very informative and emotional trip.