Re: Melbourne Story
Posted: Thu Jan 15, 2015 12:47 am
Re: Melbourne Story
by Boss on October 5th, 2013, 10:14 pm
For a long time my mum has wanted to give an account of what G-d means to her and what He has done for her. She feels she has something worthy to offer. And I agree with her. This piece was written by us over five nights. It tells of important times in her life and reflects on how G-d was always there, even in the darkest moments. My mother is a beautiful soul and the most honest, courageous person I know. I trust fellow Cohenites won't mind reading the thoughts of such person. Ta Boss
My Loving God
By Alexandra
In November 1944 WW2 still raged. I remember hiding in the countryside in a town called Mariatal. Even at the young age of five, I believed. I prayed to Boch Pambusko (God) that the war would finish soon. I loved going to church on my own, always on my own. Here I found peace and safety. The atmosphere got me. It inspired, it lifted me. I always wanted to go to Palestine - the holy land. I have yet to get there but still have a burning desire. It fascinates me this land of many cultures and traditions.
In the war years God was the only friend I had. He used to soothe my fears and pain so life was not so hard. No one instructed me in my quest to be with him. My parents were indifferent and my two sisters preferred much less spiritual aspects of life. When WW2 ended, I thanked God for answering my prayers.
We settled back down in Bratislava and I attended school. My favorite subject was Religious Instruction; Music and Art followed. The street Ulica Cervenej Armady is where I lived. Around the corner was a beautiful blue stone church. To this day I still have a photo of it in a frame hanging up. It was only a small church but inside was like discovering another world. Each Sunday I would go alone and pray - listening to Latin and Slovak; just loving the sense of ceremony. I don't quite know why I was so taken with spiritual matters but I do know my early faith helped me so much later down the track.
My parents broke up in 1947. My father migrated to America. I never saw him again. My mother partnered with a Jewish man who lost his wife Rose at Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Stalin's Communism arrived in Czechoslovakia around 1948. Conditions became difficult and we had to move from our family home to squashy living quarters in a factory my mother and partner owned. I was very lucky that opposite the factory were two churches: both Catholic - one was called St Francis. I attended regularly. Wherever I went God went along with me. I used to say a prayer every night before I went to bed. I still say the same prayer every night. The prayer is this: "Angel my guardian, take care of my soul, take care of me day and night and be there in my time of need. Amen." In 1949 my mum married her partner. We left for Australia and were one of the last families to get out. My sisters and I were very upset and I particularly pined for my old life. We saw Genoa, Venice, Vienna and all the famous cathedrals. On the boat Cerenia my mother informed us that she had married and that we were to call him 'Dad'. I was very upset. I objected and ran off crying. I wanted my Dad. The boat trip was exciting and scary - I was afraid we might sink. It took one month. We saw Aden, Port Said, Columbo and Fremantle. We finally docked in Melbourne.
I must admit I did wonder where the kangaroos were when we drove on the streets the first morning. We settled in a quaint suburban home and the five of us celebrated Christmas for the first two years. I said my prayers and became accustomed to very hot summers. At about the age of thirteen my mother informed us that we would follow Judaism. I wasn't very happy but it grew on me as time went by. It was strange having customs like Pesach and Yom Kippur. I was young and starting to think about boys. But I enjoyed matzoh in coffee, I enjoyed the songs and food. It's funny but all the while I still steadfastly talked to God. It didn't seem to matter where I was, or who I was with, I was always talking to God. I would have talked to him regardless of following any religion. In later life that's exactly what I did.
At this time, in 1952 (I was thirteen), I attended a Jewish social night. I danced and talked and had supper. I was introduced to a young man aged sixteen. He had dark hair, slim and was fairly attractive. We danced a few dances; 'La Mere' and 'Jealousy'. He gave me a goodnight kiss on my cheek. He was doing his National Service. That night I told my mother I had met the man I would marry. She laughed.
I started going to synagogue to learn the Jewish way of life but to me the vital aspects of prayer were the same in both religions. I prayed to an honest, compassionate, loving God. It didn't matter if I was in a church or a synagogue or for that matter lying in the sun; God was there, everywhere.
When I was sixteen I spent a night with my friend Sonia. We went to a dance and I re-met Malcolm. We danced rock and roll, we talked. The next morning Mal picked me up and we went to Brighton Beach to get to know one another. We courted for two years and were married in 1958 in a Jewish temple. A few months before we married I officially became a Jewess. After a time of study, the rabbi took me through a service. I had to understand the role of a Jewish woman and I learnt prayers important in a Jewish household. To this day I still recite the Brocchos every Friday as I light the Shabbat candles. So there I was - nineteen, married and a woman who had a good insight into two religions. But always the oneness of God inside and outside of me. Always this oneness.
Mal and I had six children between August 1959 and October 1970. Our eldest was our darling daughter Esther and then followed five sons; all circumcised according to Jewish tradition. Our early family life was not really so different to young families anywhere - there were pregnancies, illnesses, earning a crust, the good times and the bad. But there was this bringing of new life into the world! The six times I gave birth are easily the happiest moments I have ever had. To me childbirth is an act of God. On three or four occasions I remember seeing a rainbow in the sky after I gave birth. These epiphanies contrasted sharply with the gradual decline of our marriage. Mal was very much taken with the Sixties and early Seventies. He believed the dream, he believed in Cohen and Dylan and Ginsberg. He believed it so much he began to dedicate himself and much of his spare time to poetry and philosophy and so on. He started knocking around with other like minded people. I had to keep house. I enjoyed some aspects of hippydom, I liked the emphasis on love - to me love is God. But it was imperative I care for my very young children. As our relationship slid - amid the infidelity and indifference - I found myself struggling like never before. What would happen if he left? How would I support such a family? It was very difficult. Our marriage did break down a few times but we somehow managed to hold things together for the children.
In early April, 1977 my daughter was killed in a car accident. Her boyfriend died too. My entire world fell in. On the way to her funeral I sat in my seat and talked in a monologue to God. I knew it wasn't his fault. It was Peter who had been drinking. Like all of us, he had 'choice'. I never got over my daughter's death - I never will. Even today I don't know how I've held it together. I cry often to try and fill the void. You never can. Somehow you have to keep going.
More was to come. Mal left in early 1979. We had very little. I worked for three years in a cold factory. I asked my family for support - my elder sister helped a little but no one else. They told me to go to Jewish Welfare. My five sons were growing, needing. Their father remarried. Finally I settled with a Czech man who was never really good with kids but he was generous enough to keep us afloat. My Jewishness was wavering. My eldest three boys had been bar mitzvahed. In early 1980 Adam started his studies. He was against it. In fact all my boys had been against it - they went to state schools and hardly mixed with Jews. Adam was stubborn. One night after I picked him up from his studies he said 'I'm not doing it! Everyone does it for the presents, anyway! I'm not doing it!' We agreed. When he was in his early twenties he thought of going back to do it, but to this day he still hasn't done his bar mitzvah.
My faith was being tested all over the place. My partner was Catholic, my daughter was dead - so many dreams were unravelling. I noticed problems with my kids. My youngest Jeremy (Jez) had neurofibromatosis and had to have a few invasive procedures. My boys started smoking and drinking and keeping late hours. My beautiful son Michael dropped out of his final year of school. He was hostile towards his father. He blamed him for so much of the family's misfortune. In July 1986 Michael suicided. He was twenty two. Something inside me died that morning, too. I asked God, 'Why?' He told me I already knew the answer. I stumbled on. In January 1987 Jez had a malignant tumor in his leg removed. This was followed by rigorous chemotherapy. He lost his hair, he lost so much weight. In May Adam was hospitalised for three weeks with depression. In early 1988 I was hospitalised for about two weeks with depression. People ask me where my God was during those horrific years - I tell them that if I didn't have him as my crutch, I would have died. In the depths of depression, in exasperation and despair, there is a noise, a flicker of hope - that is God. The same God I knew as a young girl in Czechoslovakia. It was him then and it is him right now holding me up. Suffering is part of the road. But God is the road. For some reason unbeknown to Man, he put suffering in.
In March 1993 I met Adam in London. We spent five fabulous weeks seeing Britain and Paris. But for me the absolute highlight was visiting family in Prague and Bratislava. I was fifty four and I retraced my childhood steps. I visited my school, our old homes, the old streets and of course my still standing little blue church. In Bratislava, through a stroke of grace, I discovered my first cousin and his family. It was so very special. For me and Adam there was a touch of the divine all over our travels. A time I will never forget.
In April 2001, my darling Jez succumbed to cancer. He had fought a remarkable fight. Twenty seven operations, bouts of radiation and chemo, spinal reconstruction, a partially paralysed leg; so very much pain. He was thirty. Since his passing, my life has been relatively peaceful. I have tended my garden and spent quality time with my family. I do follow world events closely. I am a bit of a recluse and I like it that way. I love our world but am saddened there is so much pain in individuals and in our culture as a whole. I firmly believe faith would bring much needed relief.
I have lost three young-adult children, I have never really been in a stable harmonious relationship. And I had problems with my mother. I have been tested by Life. Still, I love God now more than I ever could. I don't blame him for my pain - he alleviates it, he helps me understand it. With him, I sometimes even transcend it. He is sustenance, he is creation, and he is love.
Today with my three remaining children, my five grandchildren and my three great grandchildren I say to you 'peace and love'.
May God be with you,
Alexandra
by Boss on October 5th, 2013, 10:14 pm
For a long time my mum has wanted to give an account of what G-d means to her and what He has done for her. She feels she has something worthy to offer. And I agree with her. This piece was written by us over five nights. It tells of important times in her life and reflects on how G-d was always there, even in the darkest moments. My mother is a beautiful soul and the most honest, courageous person I know. I trust fellow Cohenites won't mind reading the thoughts of such person. Ta Boss
My Loving God
By Alexandra
In November 1944 WW2 still raged. I remember hiding in the countryside in a town called Mariatal. Even at the young age of five, I believed. I prayed to Boch Pambusko (God) that the war would finish soon. I loved going to church on my own, always on my own. Here I found peace and safety. The atmosphere got me. It inspired, it lifted me. I always wanted to go to Palestine - the holy land. I have yet to get there but still have a burning desire. It fascinates me this land of many cultures and traditions.
In the war years God was the only friend I had. He used to soothe my fears and pain so life was not so hard. No one instructed me in my quest to be with him. My parents were indifferent and my two sisters preferred much less spiritual aspects of life. When WW2 ended, I thanked God for answering my prayers.
We settled back down in Bratislava and I attended school. My favorite subject was Religious Instruction; Music and Art followed. The street Ulica Cervenej Armady is where I lived. Around the corner was a beautiful blue stone church. To this day I still have a photo of it in a frame hanging up. It was only a small church but inside was like discovering another world. Each Sunday I would go alone and pray - listening to Latin and Slovak; just loving the sense of ceremony. I don't quite know why I was so taken with spiritual matters but I do know my early faith helped me so much later down the track.
My parents broke up in 1947. My father migrated to America. I never saw him again. My mother partnered with a Jewish man who lost his wife Rose at Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Stalin's Communism arrived in Czechoslovakia around 1948. Conditions became difficult and we had to move from our family home to squashy living quarters in a factory my mother and partner owned. I was very lucky that opposite the factory were two churches: both Catholic - one was called St Francis. I attended regularly. Wherever I went God went along with me. I used to say a prayer every night before I went to bed. I still say the same prayer every night. The prayer is this: "Angel my guardian, take care of my soul, take care of me day and night and be there in my time of need. Amen." In 1949 my mum married her partner. We left for Australia and were one of the last families to get out. My sisters and I were very upset and I particularly pined for my old life. We saw Genoa, Venice, Vienna and all the famous cathedrals. On the boat Cerenia my mother informed us that she had married and that we were to call him 'Dad'. I was very upset. I objected and ran off crying. I wanted my Dad. The boat trip was exciting and scary - I was afraid we might sink. It took one month. We saw Aden, Port Said, Columbo and Fremantle. We finally docked in Melbourne.
I must admit I did wonder where the kangaroos were when we drove on the streets the first morning. We settled in a quaint suburban home and the five of us celebrated Christmas for the first two years. I said my prayers and became accustomed to very hot summers. At about the age of thirteen my mother informed us that we would follow Judaism. I wasn't very happy but it grew on me as time went by. It was strange having customs like Pesach and Yom Kippur. I was young and starting to think about boys. But I enjoyed matzoh in coffee, I enjoyed the songs and food. It's funny but all the while I still steadfastly talked to God. It didn't seem to matter where I was, or who I was with, I was always talking to God. I would have talked to him regardless of following any religion. In later life that's exactly what I did.
At this time, in 1952 (I was thirteen), I attended a Jewish social night. I danced and talked and had supper. I was introduced to a young man aged sixteen. He had dark hair, slim and was fairly attractive. We danced a few dances; 'La Mere' and 'Jealousy'. He gave me a goodnight kiss on my cheek. He was doing his National Service. That night I told my mother I had met the man I would marry. She laughed.
I started going to synagogue to learn the Jewish way of life but to me the vital aspects of prayer were the same in both religions. I prayed to an honest, compassionate, loving God. It didn't matter if I was in a church or a synagogue or for that matter lying in the sun; God was there, everywhere.
When I was sixteen I spent a night with my friend Sonia. We went to a dance and I re-met Malcolm. We danced rock and roll, we talked. The next morning Mal picked me up and we went to Brighton Beach to get to know one another. We courted for two years and were married in 1958 in a Jewish temple. A few months before we married I officially became a Jewess. After a time of study, the rabbi took me through a service. I had to understand the role of a Jewish woman and I learnt prayers important in a Jewish household. To this day I still recite the Brocchos every Friday as I light the Shabbat candles. So there I was - nineteen, married and a woman who had a good insight into two religions. But always the oneness of God inside and outside of me. Always this oneness.
Mal and I had six children between August 1959 and October 1970. Our eldest was our darling daughter Esther and then followed five sons; all circumcised according to Jewish tradition. Our early family life was not really so different to young families anywhere - there were pregnancies, illnesses, earning a crust, the good times and the bad. But there was this bringing of new life into the world! The six times I gave birth are easily the happiest moments I have ever had. To me childbirth is an act of God. On three or four occasions I remember seeing a rainbow in the sky after I gave birth. These epiphanies contrasted sharply with the gradual decline of our marriage. Mal was very much taken with the Sixties and early Seventies. He believed the dream, he believed in Cohen and Dylan and Ginsberg. He believed it so much he began to dedicate himself and much of his spare time to poetry and philosophy and so on. He started knocking around with other like minded people. I had to keep house. I enjoyed some aspects of hippydom, I liked the emphasis on love - to me love is God. But it was imperative I care for my very young children. As our relationship slid - amid the infidelity and indifference - I found myself struggling like never before. What would happen if he left? How would I support such a family? It was very difficult. Our marriage did break down a few times but we somehow managed to hold things together for the children.
In early April, 1977 my daughter was killed in a car accident. Her boyfriend died too. My entire world fell in. On the way to her funeral I sat in my seat and talked in a monologue to God. I knew it wasn't his fault. It was Peter who had been drinking. Like all of us, he had 'choice'. I never got over my daughter's death - I never will. Even today I don't know how I've held it together. I cry often to try and fill the void. You never can. Somehow you have to keep going.
More was to come. Mal left in early 1979. We had very little. I worked for three years in a cold factory. I asked my family for support - my elder sister helped a little but no one else. They told me to go to Jewish Welfare. My five sons were growing, needing. Their father remarried. Finally I settled with a Czech man who was never really good with kids but he was generous enough to keep us afloat. My Jewishness was wavering. My eldest three boys had been bar mitzvahed. In early 1980 Adam started his studies. He was against it. In fact all my boys had been against it - they went to state schools and hardly mixed with Jews. Adam was stubborn. One night after I picked him up from his studies he said 'I'm not doing it! Everyone does it for the presents, anyway! I'm not doing it!' We agreed. When he was in his early twenties he thought of going back to do it, but to this day he still hasn't done his bar mitzvah.
My faith was being tested all over the place. My partner was Catholic, my daughter was dead - so many dreams were unravelling. I noticed problems with my kids. My youngest Jeremy (Jez) had neurofibromatosis and had to have a few invasive procedures. My boys started smoking and drinking and keeping late hours. My beautiful son Michael dropped out of his final year of school. He was hostile towards his father. He blamed him for so much of the family's misfortune. In July 1986 Michael suicided. He was twenty two. Something inside me died that morning, too. I asked God, 'Why?' He told me I already knew the answer. I stumbled on. In January 1987 Jez had a malignant tumor in his leg removed. This was followed by rigorous chemotherapy. He lost his hair, he lost so much weight. In May Adam was hospitalised for three weeks with depression. In early 1988 I was hospitalised for about two weeks with depression. People ask me where my God was during those horrific years - I tell them that if I didn't have him as my crutch, I would have died. In the depths of depression, in exasperation and despair, there is a noise, a flicker of hope - that is God. The same God I knew as a young girl in Czechoslovakia. It was him then and it is him right now holding me up. Suffering is part of the road. But God is the road. For some reason unbeknown to Man, he put suffering in.
In March 1993 I met Adam in London. We spent five fabulous weeks seeing Britain and Paris. But for me the absolute highlight was visiting family in Prague and Bratislava. I was fifty four and I retraced my childhood steps. I visited my school, our old homes, the old streets and of course my still standing little blue church. In Bratislava, through a stroke of grace, I discovered my first cousin and his family. It was so very special. For me and Adam there was a touch of the divine all over our travels. A time I will never forget.
In April 2001, my darling Jez succumbed to cancer. He had fought a remarkable fight. Twenty seven operations, bouts of radiation and chemo, spinal reconstruction, a partially paralysed leg; so very much pain. He was thirty. Since his passing, my life has been relatively peaceful. I have tended my garden and spent quality time with my family. I do follow world events closely. I am a bit of a recluse and I like it that way. I love our world but am saddened there is so much pain in individuals and in our culture as a whole. I firmly believe faith would bring much needed relief.
I have lost three young-adult children, I have never really been in a stable harmonious relationship. And I had problems with my mother. I have been tested by Life. Still, I love God now more than I ever could. I don't blame him for my pain - he alleviates it, he helps me understand it. With him, I sometimes even transcend it. He is sustenance, he is creation, and he is love.
Today with my three remaining children, my five grandchildren and my three great grandchildren I say to you 'peace and love'.
May God be with you,
Alexandra