Their Final Chapter Written

The other day, I received the following email:


I am sorry to announce the passing of our dear father Jack Polak. He passed very peacefully in our home last night at the amazing age of 102 Please if you can email me at mp@mpmtalent with questions but funeral services will be on Monday at 11:15 AM at

Shaarei Tikvah

46 Fox Meadows Road

The burial will be at Mount Hope Cemetery following the services 

and Shivah will be held on Monday night (6:30-9),(2-5 and 6:30-9) at Tony and Amy Polak 8 Elskip Lane Greenwich Ct. 06831and at Fred and Carrie's in Westfield New Jersey 81 Barchester Way Westfield New Jersey 07090.

love, margrit, tony and fred and our sad families"

The man referred to in this email was pre-deceased last year by his wife Ina.  They are the couple from the documentary Steal a Pencil For Me.  

As a person who believes in Christ, it makes me wonder if there is a last moment in which those who have spent their lives as good people but yet during their lifetimes do not publicly acknowledge Jesus as God's son and the Lord and Savior are given the opportunity to claim him as theirs and therefore receive eternal life.  Indeed, God being God surely has to ability to offer such a chance in the departing minutes of anyone's life.  

The Good Book says that the only sin that is unforgivable is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.  But what exactly does that entail?  Are we, as humans, even capable of discerning what its true meaning is?  If one is taught to think one way and it turns out that way is not correct in God's eyes, would He deny His mercy and forgiveness to them and be justified in doing so simply because they were ignorant of certain truths?  Surely an all-forgiving God will give those who he feels to be misguided a final chance to be enlightened. 

This couple, who had suffered such incredible injustice during the Holocaust, made it their life's work to bring awareness to and remembrance of the evils of that period in the hopes that there would be no repeat for future generations to suffer..  Is that not the kind of Love that God requires of us?  And if it is, would He not acknowledge that in them in some way come their final moments in this life?  Is not the demonstration of such love as thorough an acknowledgement of Jesus' purpose here as if I or anyone else were to say the words "I acknowledge Jesus as my Lord and Savior."?

The Catholic religion in which I was raised, would have you believe that these Jews still don't get to go to Heaven.  The God I feel in my heart is beyond loving and would not permit this to happen.  Somehow in His infinite mercy he must offer them a chance at entry, if murderers, thieves and prostitutes past have been given it.   In our final moments His own love must prevail.

I believe we will be given full access when we enter the Kingdom of God to see and know everything we failed to understand here on Earth.  I believe we will see those we love, and even those that here on Earth we might not now think will make it to Heaven given their deeds.  Personally, it thrills me to think that such an existence awaits me (I hope) and makes things here easier to bear.

Only Our Lord knows how the Polak's final chapter has been written.

Simple Delight

For the first time yesterday, I had the simple delight of being able to observe a mockingbird singing from a treetop.  Now, that may not seem very delightful to some, but for me I thought it was a special little pleasure.  It was only about 2 years ago that I didn't even know mockingbirds were in our area.  My brother, Tim, and I had gotten on the topic while driving to our niece's wedding in Vermont, when he told me they were.  I had heard from others they were but I had never seen one much less heard one.  I did a little research to find out what they look like and what to listen for.  Not long after that I was walking on St. Charles Street and passed right under one that was perched on a wire, giving me a good up-close look in person of the little darling.  A while after that, last spring if I recall correctly, when I was still in my apartment on Oak Street, I was in the kitchen doing whatever when I heard the sound of several successive different bird calls.  Knowing this was the distinctive characteristic of the mockingbird, I grabbed my binoculars but could not see it.  I wanted to see it actually singing.

Yesterday morning, I went out to the backyard to water my tomatoes and basil (my meager "garden" for the first summer in my house...I can't wait to expand to a full garden next year!).  I heard birdsong and waited to make sure it was not different bird sounds coming from different directions.  Much to my fortune the sounds were all coming from the same direction, in the same volume, with the same tone.  I looked in the direction I thought they were coming from and right at the very top of the tall cedar tree behind my neighbor's garage just to the south of me perched the yappy little guy, singing his little heart out.

I think what most appeals to me about the mockingbird is its lingual dexterity.  He is the avian equivalent of a polyglot, a particular interest of mine since I love languages.  I consider it a little sign that this house is where I am supposed to be.  Why else would there be little feathered linguist to welcome me?  :)

Well, just when I thought yesterday's pleasure in seeing him sing was one to top, don't I get a close up of a parent and fledgling in my very own back yard.  Earlier the parent bird was atop the cedar singing like he owned it, as appears to be his morning custom.  Instead of just perching and singing like yesterday morning, he would sing then jump down into the branches just below the top and I couldn't figure out what he was doing (well, it's more likely it was the momma bird and not the father).  I got a great look at him singing with the binoculars that time.  A bit later, I went down to the kitchen and while coming through the dining room I thought I would grab the binoculars again to see if he was on top of his tree.  As I was picking them up, I noticed two birds on one of the sawhorses the contractor has in my backyard.  I put the binoculars to my face and adjusted them, and what surprise awaited me but the parent and a fledgling perched on the saw horse.  The parent must have been trying to get the fledgling to make the plunge for the first time, which apparently had been quite successful.  Intermittently, the parent would leave the sawhorse and return.  I could tell by the reaction of the fledgling the parent was coming back to the sawhorse by its reaction.  Each time it would lean down and slightly forward, open its beak wide and vigorously flap its little wings.  It seemed like it was excited the parent was bringing it food.  It made me laugh to watch them.  Still smiling from it. :)

Sad News

This evening I received the following email:


"Dear Friends,

It is with great sadness and tenderness that we have the difficult task of announcing the death of our dear mother, Ina Polak, yesterday evening at White Plains Hospital in  New York. She passed very peacefully after a brief illness. It is a shock for all of us, but know that Jack is ok and has received the news as well as possible. The funeral will be tomorrow Friday  May 16 at 11:30 pm at Sharrei Tikvah Synagogue at 46 Fox Meadow Road, Scarsdale NY  914-472-2013.

and she will be buried after the service at Mt Hope Cemetary on Saw Mill River Road in Hastings On Hudson. Donations may be made to The Anne Frank Center USA  44 Park Place New York, NY. I will be checking her emails tonight and in the coming day and will try to return each of your emails individually but be patient with me.

With love,

Margrit, Tony and Fred Polak

Polak, Catharina (Ina) Soep, 91, of Eastchester,  New York, passed away peacefully on May 14, 2014.

Devoted wife of Jack for 68 years, loving mother of Fred (Carrie), Tony (Amy), and Margrit (Harvey), grandmother to Josh (Sarah), Ann (Jordan), Jamie (Abbie), Emily and Sofi, great grandmother of seven. Born in Amsterdam, The Netherlands on January 3, 1923 to Abraham and Toni, Holocaust survivor of transit camp Westerbork, where she met her beloved husband Jack, and concentration camp Bergen Belsen. Their love story is memorialized in the book and award winning documentary Steal a Pencil For Me. Avid  New York Times reader, theatre and movie goer, Ina led a vibrant and fullfilling life til the end. She will be remembered for her extraordinary beauty and her loving spirit. She called her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren 'her best revenge against The Holocaust'  Services today at Congregation Shaari Tikvah in Scarsdale at 11:30 Am. Donations should be made to Anne Frank Center USA."

The woman above, Ina (Soep) Polak, touched my life in a lovely and unexpected way.  On 12/9/08, I received an unexpected email from her because she had read a poem I had written based on a documentary about her and her husband and posted on this blog some time before that. You can find it by looking under November 2008 and more about it under December 2008.  The documentary is called "Steal a Pencil for Me" and my poem is called "Ina and Jaap"  She was made aware of my poem's existence by the woman who had directed the documentary about the love story between her (Ina) and her husband, Jaap "Jack" Polak.  I found the documentary touching and it inspired me to write the poem.  

I suppose the best way that I can remember her is to promote their story and the inspiration it gave me.

Burgers or Chicken

I was coming out of Price Chopper a short while ago, having needed to pick up some Italian bread to go with the spaghetti I am making for supper for my kids and me, when a gray Ford Focus station wagon, stops right smack in front of where I was crossing.  I heard the older male and female occupants say "Excuse me, madam", in their thickly French-accented English.  So, I bent down slightly to see what it is they wanted and the old man said the word "restaurant".  Thinking a second, I questioned, "What kind?"  The old lady said, "Oh, maybe fried chicken".  Simultaneously, her husband said "Amburger...or chicken...buk, buk, buk" with a huge grin on his face.  I laughed out loud and so did he and his wife.  So I gave them the suggestion (for burgers)as the Ground Round and wished them a nice day.  I was considering their ability to understand the directions, so I figured the Ground Round would be best, since they only needed to go straight through the traffic light to find it a short distance away.  The old man said, "Thank you.  Buk, buk, buk" and we all laughed and parted.

It was clear their English was not so strong, but they were trying and had wonderfully cheerful dispositions.  And, as any such encounter with native speakers of other languages who are making the effort to speak to me in mine, I couldn't help but think that it takes a certain level of courage to come to a country whose official language is not their own and try to intermingle with our bit of culture that is Plattsburgh's.  Then my thought turned to consider how much those in our culture who might have given them a dirty look for stopping in the crosswalk to ask questions are missing out if they bear intolerance for people who are different from them.

It wasn't a long or deep exchange, but it was pleasant, cheerful and humorous and it made me smile and laugh, something we could all stand to do more of.

Delving Into Downton

The place is England, 1912

And in their tale each week we delve

To learn and dream how life was then

To escape our present once again

Lady Mary, privileged girl

Her father Robert, Grantham Earl

They cannot see through Matthew’s eyes

Their Downton, an advantaged prize

For Isobel has raised him well

The humble start that on him fell

Must bind him to the middle class

Not pampered, he, in riches’ mass

The Dowager’s words are very sage

She comes from a more gilded age

She’s seen the changes time has wrought

Which with them to her wisdom brought

Cora’s life, American

Tom, Irish Republican

Have thickened thinning English blood

Societal change, a prompted scud

Edith a diamond yet to shine

Who’s filled with vigor, spleen and spine

Refuses to be overlooked

By her family, shelved and booked

Sybil is the daring one

Whose heart has aptly Branson won

She loves him, though he’s radical

Her family of him skeptical

Bates and Anna have it rough

Their separation makes it tough

For them to have their happiness

Because of Vera’s nastiness

The lords and ladies of the hall

The household staff who does it all

Portrayed by actors most adept

As audience enthralled is kept

Alluring is the posh and gleam

Of age that’s past, now like a dream

Made real again with acting’s proof

Beneath majestic Highclere’s roof.

Where stroll they now?

I am sitting at my desktop in my little office in my apartment from which I have, for the past 7 1/2 years, been able to observe the sidewalk in front of the neighbor's house.  When I first started living here, I would daily see an elderly couple come walking every day up the sidewalk together holding hands.  It made me smile thinking how wonderful to still hold hands after so many years together.

A few years after that, I began only seeing the old man walking every day.  Today, I realize that I haven't seen him walking in ages.

I wonder what happened to them.

Graceful

So, I took my walk on the Saranac River Walk today.  This time I did the whole thing (what is finished of it so far, that is).  I walked from the entrance on George Angell Drive all the way to Pine Street.  Rather than double back the exact way I came, since by that time my right Achilles was starting to ache, I decided to walk up the rest of Pine to Battery to South Catherine and turn back toward the other end of Pine, across from Stelzer (where Stewart's is) and pick the path up again there in order to save myself a few extra steps. 

All was going wonderfully as I approached the corner of Stelzer to take a right on the path.  I didn't notice the raised flower bed butted up against the sidewalk that I was about to turn the corner of and I tripped over the bed.  The cycle of the traffic light was just at the point where the traffic north and southbound had just come to a stop and the east and westbound had not yet started going.  My iPod went flying and the earplugs got yanked out of my ears as it did.  Luckily I caught myself with my right foot, the same one I had just stubbed on the raised bed.  I had a full audience at the traffic light.  All I could do was burst out laughing, knowing that everyone at the light had just seen the whole graceful spectacle that was me.  Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself. :)