A Miracle Remembered

I had a surprise telephone call from my granddaughter in New York this evening. She was excited to tell me that a co-worker in the medical field had come across my article published on March 27, 2016, “Miracle on Dan Bus # 4”, which related the sudden reunion of a bus driver and his mother, both having thought the other was killed in Poland during the war.

It was one of the most emotional scenes of my youth, never to be forgotten.

My granddaughter told me her friend had just read the article which, according to her, had 46,000 readers’ replies, and asked my granddaughter if the author with the same last name was related to her.

My granddaughter could not wait to pick up her phone to share a miracle remembered.

I am always pleased to hear comments from readers. Today I received one of the very few nasty ones in nasty language from a reader named “Moke”. I attempted to reply to him but it was returned with the expected announcement “address not known” and once again “not known by that name”. No great loss!

After 840 articles of mine have been published, I can count on the fingers of less than two hands the number of negative or unrefined responses I have received.

Even when a once faithful American Yankee from Connecticut, Jonah, wrote me lengthy messages disagreeing with something I had written, every one of them was polite and written in a cultured manner. We enjoyed tete-a-tete e-mail conversations for a few years, each message courteous in spite of serious disagreements.

“Moke” is simply a joke. A strange name for a strange person who is not able to disagree politely. He (or she) is not an individual I would enjoy talking with over a steaming cup of Aroma or Cup O’ Joe. One never can know what may happen if a coffee cup “accidentally” overturns.

A miracle remembered from a female reader in New York amazes me. It was article # 349 out of # 840… 491 articles in years past.

My granddaughter was elated to share the news with me via telephone tonight. And I was equally elated to learn that someone had discovered me after such a long ago time.

Prior to my wife’s death in September 2016 she urged me and encouraged me to continue my writing which had begun 55 years ago.

She felt that writing would take my mind away from the sting of grief. How wrong she was! The grief is as fresh today as it was on the day when her body was lowered into the grave.

It warms me from the coldness and emptiness that envelops me. And in the midst of writing this message a second phone call from my granddaughter corrected her numbers and updated them to 48,000 responses… everyone positive.

It must surely irk the “Moke”.

Notwithstanding his accusation that my writing is, in his words, “pure bullshit” (is there any impure bullshit and full of lies which he failed to identify)?

I hope to have the energy to continue what is important to me and hopefully of interest to our readers.

Mr. (or Ms.) “Moke” would do Bibi well in a Likud coalition. It contains so much of the “bullshit” which he/she reads. His/her chosen user name befits him/her.

In the British Isles and in Australia the word “moke” is common slang used to describe a “donkey or a horse of inferior quality”. Americans and Canadians simply use the word “jackass”, appropriate to reader “Moke”.

I am grateful to my granddaughter’s co-worker in the pace-making department of open-heart procedures.

It is, for me, a miracle well and lovingly remembered.