The Worst Part Of The Trip --And That's Really Saying Something

My in laws have endured so much in their lives, which is an understatement. They were both taken from their families as young teens, and imprisoned by the Nazis in concentration and slave labor camps -- emerging years later to learn that most of their families were killed. They're difficult people, also to say the least, but as Dr. Barry always reminds me, what they have gone through really gives them a life time pass for any social or other faux pas. Over the three decades I've known them, they've shared pieces of their stories, and much of the fill ins were provided by their few surviving relatives and friends. But yesterday we learned a previously untold chapter: their voyage from Germany, after the War, to Israel. Wifey and I made our weekly trip to Miami Jewish Home, taking with us the strange rescue dog. We met my mother in law in my father in law's room, and schlepped them outside -- it was a lovely, breezy afternoon. Our usual stop, the aviary, was a non starter -- the staff had placed tarps over the cages because of a coming cold front -- so we walked a bit farther to the site of the old gazebo -- my Mom's favorite spot. They removed the roof of the old gazebo a few weeks after my Mom died, but a nice circular deck remains there, with tables and chairs, and in the late afternoon it was pleasantly shady. My mother in law held forth: after a time in a Displaced Persons camp called Feldafing, she was taken to Munich, and placed on a transport ship. These trips were of course dramatized in the Paul Newman movie "Exodus," and according to my MIL, the movie was mostly accurate. Her trip took 12 long days, on a crowded Greek ship, whose name she now forgets. The water was "bad," and she came down with an awful "gastritis acute," which brought her weight below 80 lbs. She said the trip was awful -- worse than her time in the camps -- probably because she and the other refugees figured that once the War was over, and Hitler was dead, things would get better. They didn't -- at least not right away. She remembered my father in law's ship -- the Pan York, which Wifey promptly googled, and learned of its history. Anyway, after arriving at Haifa, as an "illegal" -- they took her for rehab at a hospital, where she regained her health. She said she gained 30 pounds in less than a month -- and grew strong as she got nursing training for the military. She recalls eating "ten slices of bread for breakfast." Ironically, the time set in motion a lifetime battle with zaftigness that continues even now, as she approaches 90. The day ended, as we wheeled my father in law back to his room, and Stephen, the happy Jamaican driver Wifey found for her Mom, loaded the old lady into his front seat and left for Pembroke Pines. As I drove home, Wifey read about the "Pan York" from her smartphone. I wasn't really listening, though. I was thinking about how hard my in laws had it compared to my family, whose struggles, during and after WW II, were essentially only financial. As we left the gazebo, my mother in law remarked that there was a reason the German government still paid reparations all these years later. It wasn't just a bad thing they did -- it was the ruination, or attempted ruination, of an entire people. The pain continues 7 decades later. So we all have our challenges and struggles. But I'd like to think that my Ds, grandchildren of true Survivors, in the purest sense of the word, have inherited that strength. I revel in making life easy for them, but I hope they have some inherent vitality to get them through the hard times as well.