A brave man

This is one of the saddest things I've ever heard and it's been haunting my thoughts lately. I wrote this after hearing a Holocast survivor speak last year. He's such a courageous man and just remembering him makes me want to cry all over again. He made me promise never to forget his words, and I ask that you remember too.



Rolling up his sleeve, Philip Riteman, an Auschwitz survivor, showed a permanent reminder of the hell he lived through as a Nazi prisoner. The number 98,706 has been burned onto his flesh and into his memory.

Yesterday at the University of Regina, Riteman teared up when speaking of his experiences during the Holocaust. His father, mother, brothers and sisters were all killed.

He was just 14 years old when he was herded off to the notorious concentration camp where 125,000 men were kept prisoners. He witnessed countless murders and was forced to burn the resulting stacks of bodies.

Riteman had to watch as men in groups of seven were lined up and shot in front of mass graves. When their bodies fell into the pit, dirt was thrown on to cover them. Then the next seven men were brought forward to die. And so it continued.

Even his best friend was murdered.

Riteman told of how Nazis picked on the young blond boy and threw him into a water trough. The boy had freckles and the Nazi’s scrubbed his body with steel wool to remove them. Riteman heard his friend screaming and dying as his skin was scraped off.

Then he had to help carry the body to be burned.

Even 59 years after being freed, Riteman is haunted every day by what he lived through. “I couldn’t believe it was happening and I still dream about it,” he said. Struggling to hold back tears, he wondered why he was the one who survived.

Although it is hard for him to talk of what he witnessed, Riteman feels he must. “Maybe I survived to talk to you today,” he said.

Riteman wants younger generations to remember the atrocities that took place to make sure it never happens again. “Millions and millions of souls are listening to me speak,” he said in reference to the 6,000,000 Jews who were murdered by the Nazis.

“Teach your children to love,” he said. “ I always tell the younger generations to be good to each other.”

Riteman reminded his audience how fortunate they are to be free. “You’re all living here in heaven but really you don’t know,” he said.

Wardrobe functions and malfunctions

Today I had one of those days where all the bad and good circumstances cancel each other out.

This morning I got an e-mail about a major lecture happening on campus tonight and decided to skip going to the gym in order to get a good seat. Well as it turned out, I had a little spare time and decided to go for a walk and enjoy the beautiful melting weather.

I hadn't been walking 10 minutes when I came across a puddle too deep to walk through and just narrow enough that jumping over it seemed like a good idea. That is, it seemed like a good idea during the leap and the first part of the landing.... but then my foot slipped in the squishy grass and suddenly jumping didn't seem like such a great idea. I tumbled backwards and ended up sitting in the middle of the puddle, covered in mud and clumps of dead grass.

I couldn't stop laughing while walking back to school past rush-hour traffic and students staring at the new pattern on my full-length denim skirt. Really, something like that is too funny be embarrassing.

Needless to say, I was quite glad to remember I had my gym shorts in my backpack. Once I had them on and still had time before the lecture, I decided since I was already dressed, I might as well head to the gym.

By now, you may be wondering what I was planning to wear to the big seminar. Certainly gym shorts or a muddy-bum skirt are out of the question....

Fortunately, on Monday night I had given a class presentation in a strikingly professional pinstriped skirt suit. And fortunately I had been to lazy to take it home afterwards. So I looked fabulous, albeit slightly sweaty and wrinkly-suited, when meeting a former assistant to the United Nations secretary general who is now the current president and CEO for Unicef Canada.

Social shortcomings

In my class presentation earlier this week, a classmate and I offended our professor.

We were talking about political cartoons and how the media have to come to some sort of balance between social responsibility and freedom of the press. In particular, we looked at the case of the Danish newspaper that ran 12 cartoons making fun of Islam and the prophet Mohammed.

For those who don't know, foreign embassies were evacuated, people were killed and there was mass rioting across the Muslim world. All this rage poured out because the religion forbids any attempt to draw or portray Mohammed. In printing the cartoons, the paper intentionally attacked Islam and even showed Mohammed himself as a terrorist.

Now on to my mistake...

During my research, I found the anti-Muslim cartoons and we decided to include them in the presentation on powerpoint to illustrate what we were talking about.

The only problem is that my professor is Muslim.

He was so offended by the pictures, he looked at the ground while asking us to skip to the next part of the presentation.

Oops.

This reminds me of the time I confronted a classmate for skipping out on a presentation and (I thought) taking advantage of our sweet old professor. Turns out he was doing his presentation after class because he couldn't do it without his special BRAILLE computer.

Maybe it's time to stop talking.

Bad date catalogue

The guy who planned a romantic hike up a mountain with a picnic lunch including dried pinapple pieces and other such delicacies ruined the date early on trying to prove his sense of humour.

"I'm kind of a goofy guy," he said early into the all-day climb. A few seconds later he cracked his skull against mine. "Bonk," he said. "I told you I was kinda goofy."

Then there was the cute scruffy one I really liked -- until our first date. He spent a good 15 minutes describing how he battered his chicken the night before. He went into this monologue while helping me finish off my vegan special of the day.

And I can't forget about the date I had promised to pay for since my poor date was spending entirely too much money on me. We had eaten and I was trying to pay when I realized I had forgotten my bank card. The waiter thought he'd try to get a better tip by making rude comments while my date paid the tab.

I have to admit I was attracted to the idea of dating a wrongfully-convicted felon. (The fact he was absolutely gorgeous didn't hurt his case either.) But as it turned out, he wasn't quite as innocent as he claimed. After a party, I found some of our mutual friends' things (cologne, sunglasses) in my bag. And all sorts of mini-crimes seemd to happen wherever he had been.

Then there were the guys who lured my friend and I to their cabin when they said we could use their hot tub. By "hot tub" they meant an old-fashioned -- or possibly homemade -- pool of freezing water that can be heated by a wood-burning stove. My friend and I shivered in the pool until we realized it would take hours to warm up. Maybe that was my lesson not to leave parties with strange guys... hmmm.

One of my all-time most annoying dates was with the guy that took me to see "The Wedding Planner" years ago. He liked the movie. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was his pick. That's reason enough for it to show up on my list.

Free is better

After working as a professional writer, I've learned it's much more fun to write for free.

For one thing, there are no editors hiding out on the internet waiting to insert cheesy puns into your carefully-crafted story.

For another, there are no deadlines and no mandatory word counts.

Also, when you repeat something controversial someone else told you, it's much nicer to know they probably won't ever come across what you've written, much less threaten to sue you or your company for it.

There's no sitting in creaky wheely chairs for hours staring at a blank screen.

No interviews are required.

If I make a mistake, it's much easier to edit it out than to print a retraction.

And I never have to come back after coffee breaks.

Shopping cart of illness

Lately I've been sleeping more than my 2 month old nephews. After eating, showering or one trip downstairs, I need to go back to sleep.

So I went to the doctor to find out what was wrong. The diagnosis: upper and lower throat infections, right and left ear infections, and, to top it all off, a fever.

With five sicknesses all at once, I think I'll take advantage of this misery and skip a few classes.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's past my naptime.

My true calling

Last night, I became a murderer.

In a fit of rage, I killed my millionaire lover. As head housekeeper, I had been looking after his home for years and, after proving my loyalties to him, I believed we would be married and I would share his fortune.

When he announded his relationship with a young, beautiful secretary, I was devestated. And later, when I asked him if he did not love me, he laughed in my face. I was so furious that I grabbed the dagger (which was conviently on hand) and killed him.

Murder mystery games are always fun, particularly for the murderer.

One of my character flaws...

Whenever I eat a big heaping of something particularly delicious and full of sugary fat, I feel a compulsion to make someone else eat more than I just did. For years I pretended to be a kind, generous hostess, while really secretly plotting to load my friends and family up with calories.

This took the form of making cookies much larger than necessary so recipients would feel like they only had one or two and keep eating, using extra large cups for excessively chocolatey hot chocolate, and squishing cake down when mixing it with ice cream to make the treat seem less monsterous.

The only time this rule doesn't apply is when it comes to cheese. Somethings are just too sacred for sharing in more than modest portions.

Romance

I think the word "divorce" is romantic. It has such a lyrical sound and is full of heartbreakingly-beautiful sadness. I think it sounds deep, thoughful, poignant, vivid. Profound. And it has such strength.

It's beautiful in the same way winding rivers, sunsets and glistening tears are -- full of life, realness, pain and growth.

(I am not divorced or married or even remotely interested in being married. Too bad I can't just skip straight to the divorce part.)

On my own

So it looks like my sisters won't write any posts for my blog. This way I can keep them from writing anything too embarrasing about me.

Actually, I've decided someone needs to make comments so my poor blog doesn't look so forlorn. (This is a hint, J and J.)

my culinary failures

I love cake. White cake, chocolate cake, carrot cake, pudding cake, ice cream cake: I love them all. Tonight I was desperately in need of some sugary moist softness, and was feeling confident that I could easily whip up a delicious treat. Soon the smell of chocolate home-made goodness was filling the house and all seemed well. Until I tasted it, that is. It's so mushy and not even half cooked.

It kind of reminds me of the time I worked at a coffee shop and after seeing the cookies I made (which were excellent, according to my standards) my boss told me to stick to mixing drinks.

And then there was the time when I filled all the salt containers with sugar and all the sugar jars with salt to play a joke on my family. It wasn't until I made some cookies -- if you can call them that -- that I realized how badly my trick had backfired.

Maybe I should stick with eating chocolate chips straight out of the bag.