Centenary, and Remembrance

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January 27,2024- The grief-stricken woman told me, and bar staff, what had happened to a beloved family member, and relayed the seemingly nonchalant reaction of someone who had once told her that he was dependable. I shared with her about my own experiences, and the current state of my life. She was heartened by both what I had experienced taking care of my late wife, Penny, and by the present state of a new love in my life. As she broke down, and needed reassurance, I hugged her, and she wished me well with the rest of my life. When she left, we briefly discussed our own reactions to her story; D’s daughter agreeing with me that an undependable friend is no friend at all. I paid for my meal, and coffee, then headed back to Home Base 1.

I thought of Penny, and how no matter the level of difficulty with her condition, I would never have left her alone, or dismissed her pain. I stayed with her, until the end of her life, and would do so again and again. I think of the new love that has appeared in my life, and know that if she needed me to be by her side, post haste, I would be there, across the ocean, as quickly as humanly possible-and stay with her, for the duration.

Today, one of the most influential men I’ve ever had the honour of knowing would have turned 100 years of age. That he was the father of my first true love as an adult, and the treasured grandfather of our son was a bonus. Norman David Fellman was, more than these, much more. He was the living symbol of the Holocaust survivors-a Jewish soldier in the U.S. Army, in the final year of World War II. He was captured by the German Army, in the southern flank of the Battle of the Bulge, kept prisoner in Berga, in a special POW unit of Jewish-, Mexican- and Romani-Americans. He survived, and when found by the U.S. Army, 97 pounds clung to his 6’1″ frame. He thrived, attended college, decided to open his own shoe business, married his life-long sweetheart, sired Penny and adopted twin girls-raising all three to be strong women. He and my mother-in-law, Ruth, were married for 65 years, until his death in 2014. (Ruth survived him by four years.) They owned and ran a farm, which tided them over, when he sold his shoe business. They raised and rode Arabian horses, teaching all three girls-and me, how to ride, and care for, those wondrous beasts. Norm was a fixture in Veterans organizations, and even made a video of his experiences, which at one point aired on national television. It must have come very hard, but he made it his mission, to ensure that the experiences of those who kept freedom alive were not forgotten.

Likewise, International Holocaust Remembrance Day was established, in 1996, on this, the day of Norm’s birth. It was a fact that gave him great satisfaction, though like the gentleman he was, IHRD became more important to the day, than his own birthday. That this remembrance has continued, despite the noise and hasty judgement heaped upon all Jews, for the actions of a relative few among them, would be a point of pride, for Norm, Ruth and Penny, were they here among us still. He would fulminate, as only he could, against all those he saw as perpetrators of injustice.

I was all too glad to have been able to help a stranger in distress, to help finish a good friend’s move, earlier in the day and to give due homage to a great man. Let us never forget the Shoah!

The Road to 65, Mile 210: Oregon’s Multivariate “Big East”

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June 26, 2015, Lakeview, OR- This day started in the sere brownness of Ontario, in the heart of the Great Basin, above the Snake River.  It was not too hot, as I made my way over to Gandolfi’s New York-style Deli, the closest thing in the Riverside area of Ontario, to a coffee shop.  The fare was satisfying, though the atmosphere was more motel breakfast room than comfy cafe.

This is an irrigated agricultural area, and the landscape thus shows a striking contrast of colours.003 004

The small village of Vale, southwest of Ontario, is the seat of Malheur County, of which Ontario is the commercial hub.  Vale has a small historical museum, which was not open when I passed through, but was worth a look at the exterior. Eastern Oregon still has an Old West ambiance, in many places.

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The Malheur River waters the area, gathering its tributaries, west of Vale, then heading towards the Snake River, south of Ontario.

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After going through a barren section, once past the Malheur, there is a scrub pine forest that leads the way south, towards Burns.  This area reminded me a lot of central Arizona, just as the Snake River near Ontario resembles the Colorado, in western Arizona.014

Burns, named for the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns, is a quiet, but charming little town, about two hours east of Bend. I was warmly welcomed at Broadway Deli, a bustling local hangout with freshly-made soups and sandwiches.  The ranchers also say it has great breakfasts.  All I know is, I could have stayed all day.

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Once south of Burns, and its smaller sister city, Hines, the desert takes over again.  Ninety minutes later, I was in awe of the sere beauty of shrinking Lake Abert.  This alkaline lake is inhabited mostly by brine shrimp.

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There are numerous iron-oxide infused basalt boulders on its eastern shore, which the Oregon Outback Highway passes.

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Just as Oregon and California meet, the Warner Mountains look over Lakeview.  As I was coming into town, I spotted an Arabian horse, at the roadside fence, nervously shuffling on his back right haunch. Fearing he might be stuck, I went back to the driveway, where the owner went with me over to the pasture, and determined it was the beast’s arthritis acting up.  He was grateful for my concern, and hopefully tended to the poor creature.

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A section of California took me through the rest of the afternoon.  Alturas is a small gateway community, with an Ag-Inspection Station, a dusty main street and Hotel Niles, an early 20th Century railroad stop.

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I continued on, getting gas at the village of Standish and settling in for the night in Susanville, so named for the nearby Susan River.  Both are named for Susan Roop, the daughter of an early settler.  “Susan” was fairly lively when I first got there, as there was a country music festival at Lassen County Fairgrounds.  It wrapped up at 9 P.M., though, and most of the people there were my age or older.  It had been a lengthy drive today, and the car needed a good rest, so before checking out the tail-end of the hoedown, I had some fish fry at Kopper Kettle and took a room at nearby Frontier Inn.  Tomorrow, I will head over to Reno, for a day or so, and catch up with the Nevada Family.