Remembering the Holocaust

Today is the international day of remembrance of the Holocaust. Though some have tried to claim that it never took place, we MUST NOT ever forget the very sickeningly real genocide that resulted in the death of an estimated 6 million Jews. It was on January 27th of 1945 that the Soviet forces liberated the most notorious of all concentration camps, Auschwitz-Birkenau, which has become the symbol of the Holocaust representing the deep depths of man's own inhumanity toward other men. 

I had the honor of meeting a Holocaust survivor many years ago. I was outside waiting and watched a group of obnoxious teenagers with that unmistakeable "We are the shit!" attitude walk over to the bench where an old woman sat and start hassling her. I would have intervened regardless but I happened to notice that on this old woman's arm was a crude tattoo of numbers. I went over to the group and said they might want to think twice about causing problems especially with this woman. My remark was met with snickers and a huge amount of attitude when they asked what a one legged gi,p was going to do about it. My response to them was simple. I told them that while this one legged gimp could easily kick their asses, it wasn't me they should be concerned with. Again, they snickered this time at the thought of such an old woman being in any way threatening. When the loudmouth of the group laughed and asked if I was talking about "grandma here" I said that I was talking about her. 

I moved ever so slightly closer to the loud mouthed jerk and asked if he'd seen the old woman's arm. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head and then once again laughed saying that if I was thinking that she'd beat him at an arm wrestling contest I was insane. I simply smiled at him for a moment before very quietly saying, "Son. You see that numbered tattoo on her arm? That's no gang sign. That's no set of lucky numbers. That's no random drunken night mistake."

That kid continued to stare at me as I went in for the final blow. "Let's see if you know your basic history. Do you have any idea where she got that tattoo?"

He continued to look at me oddly but his eyes grew quite large when I asked if the name Hitler rang any bells. I watched this young punk lose his control over the tough guy persona he was used to wearing as he first stared at me and the. At the old woman on the bench. I watched his eyes take in her tattoo with horrifying recognition. I then watched him apologize to her for his comments and behavior and the confused look on the faces of more than one of his friends who obviously was just as stupid as they looked while recognition of what I'd said and what it meant finally washed over another young man. The two who understood the significance of what I'd just said and who they were in the presence of quickly apologized for their mistreatment of that old woman and herded their dumber friends quickly away.

That old woman reached out a hand and asked me to please sit and I did. She was surprised that I'd even seen the tattoo, that I knew what it was, and that I'd stepped in on her behalf to teach a few obnoxious kids a quick lesson. I offered her my apologies for "going there" without warning knowing that many of the few survivors left don't like their tattoos showing and don't like to talk about it. I started to ramble that if it had caused her pain or sorrow that I was truly sorry because I know too well the horrors of Post Traumatic Shock and reliving horrifying events as though they had taken place yesterday because someone had said just the right thing to trigger it. She took my hand in hers and with tears in her eyes, she thanked me for doing exactly what I'd done and for noticing and remembering. She told me briefly about being a Jew in Nazi Germany, about the cramped railway cars, about being split up from her father and brothers, about the harsh disturbing realities of life in a concentration camp, and about never seeing her father or brothers again. I've had a number of meaningful conversations over the years but this conversation holds the top space alongside the final two way conversation I had with my older sister before she passed.

The survivors of this horrific event in human history when some of humanity showed just how evil it can be while others showed how resilient a person can be, are dying out. Soon there will be no more survivors. It is our duty to not only honor them and respect them but also to never forget them and what an estimated 6 million people didn't survive.

To anyone who still believes that the Holocaust did not take place...meet one of the few remaining survivors. Listen to their stories. Visit the Holocaust museum in Washingon DC. The Holocaust was very real, my friends. They say that if one does not learn from the past that they are destined to repeat it and we, as a whole, are proving that statement true. Genocides on smaller scales are continuing to happy around the world to this very day.

Live Lucky

I wear a lot of clothing and hats that have two little yet very powerful words written on them: Live Lucky.  How I came across the company Black Clover, I don't know but I'm grateful because their motto made me stop and think  and gave me something to cling to. Those who know my story the best would tell you that there’s a certain irony to that. I’ve been repeatedly told; if it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all. Even my former therapist would tell me that and in many respects he and others are correct but the difference between them and myself is the way in which we choose to view luck.

I don’t wear those shirts and hats for the irony. I wear them for the reminder. I wear them because I believe that while we don’t always get a choice about the things that happen in our lives, sometimes, just sometimes, we do get to choose and make our own luck.

I have been an unlucky person quite often when it has come to my health and a few life circumstances and am the first to say that my life is to say the least, complicated. I lost my right leg, I’ve nearly died from recurring infections, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis - a progressive and debilitating disease for which there is no cure, and I have had more casts and surgeries than I can count. I am in my 30’s and have no choice but to continue to live at home with my parents due to my health. I haven’t been able to finish college, I’ve been badly burned by people who are meant to help both in the physical health sense and mental health sense, I have developed severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and the worst and hardest hit off all is that I lost my oldest sister to brain cancer in the fall of 2014 just two short months after her diagnosis.

It may seem inconceivable that I would consider myself a lucky but I do consider myself lucky and it’s not because I’m delusional. Yes, some days have brought nothing but tremendous pain for which I’ve been so doped up on painkillers that I can barely remember my own name. Yes, far too many days have brought the realization that another infection has struck and any and all plans I’ve made for the next few weeks or months have been obliterated in an instant. Yes, some days have brought trips to the hospital including finding myself in the Emergency Room, a doctor’s office or admitted straight to one of the floors. Yes, some days have even brought the need to call 911 and be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgeries. There have been days when I’ve been lucky to make it out alive at all.

Of course, some days have brought nothing but heartbreak. The day that I was diagnosed with MS was a day like any other that ended up shattering like glass. The day that I realized that something was very seriously wrong with my right knee a week after a routine surgery and learned that had we waited any longer the odds of my having survived the emergency surgery to battle the raging infection were slim to none. Barely making it out of the OR and discovering that a friend who’d been visiting at the time couldn’t handle it was incredibly painful though eventually we talked it out and realized that it was a scary situation for everyone and more than a 20 something year old could handle. The most heartbreaking days of all time for my family and for myself will always consist of the day my oldest sister was diagnosed with brain cancer, the day she was brought home for hospice care, and the day that she eventually was taken from us. As horrible as all of that sounds, however, that’s not the only luck I’ve had.

I have been a very lucky person in good ways as well. I was born into a family that is loving and caring and supportive. I have made lifelong friends who have my back no matter what is happening in my life or in theirs that I can call at 4 in the morning and know they’ll answer the phone. I have been blessed with friends who I call family – sisters and brothers and even a second mother and second father. I was blessed with two incredible older sisters who have always loved, supported, protected and been there for me through all of the ups and downs in my life. I was blessed with over 30 years with my oldest sister who from the day I was born saw me as her baby and looked after me not only like a big sister should but also in many ways like a parent should.

I was lucky enough to have been forced to attend an incredible high school with incredible teachers, though I was admittedly unhappy at first to have been taken out of public school and sent to a small Catholic High School. The lessons I learned there about life have stayed with me and to this day I am still in contact with several of the adults there who helped turn my life around and make me the person I am today. I met and people there and made friends there who will be in my life forever.

I have been lucky enough to have an incredible medical team in my corner whom I credit with my still being alive. They are there at the drop of a hat as more than just my physicians and nurses but as my friends who see my potential and see the fight within me and will go the extra mile for me as often as they need to. There have been problems with various members of my medical team getting far too close to me and ties have had to be severed and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t found myself hurt but regardless of the events that have passed between myself and those people I still consider myself lucky to have had them as a part of my life. It is true what they say about people coming into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime and that each person you meet gives you an opportunity to learn. Yes, despite some horrible things, I have been lucky.

I have lost my hair more times than I can count at this point to various medications trying to treat my health problems and while I have collected MANY hats over the last 13+ years, odds are most days (with or without hair - especially without it) you'll find me in a Black Clover Live Lucky hat. Not only are they comfortable, they are a reminder to myself and those around me to live lucky. I've bucked the tide and beaten the odds for over 13 years now and have unfortunately added a new chapter with osteomyelitis bone infection literally taking my right ulna. I know eventually that my good luck, my beating the odds, will run out but until that day I will live lucky to the best of my ability and this brand reminds me to make my own luck and to live lucky every single day because today is all that we have.

My advice to you is that when it’s all hitting the fan and you feel like you can’t keep going, o stop and take stock of your life. Look at the people around you. Find the humor. Find the good luck. To live lucky doesn’t mean that you leave it all to chance and it doesn’t mean that you won’t have bad things happen. To live lucky is to see the good luck and the good things that have happened and to hold onto them tightly when things are going sideways. It will ground you. It will keep you going.