Leggings - Out on a Branch.
Posted by maisie on Wed, 23 Jan 2019
Some days are like climbing a tree on a windy day. The branches shake, the world below trembles, your limbs refuse to co-operate. You know it's the experience of a life time, only... why don't you enjoy it?
I live my life in "Interesting Times" as a passerby on the bus informed me this morning. That phrase has always fascinated me, from my earliest years here in Norfolk. Why interesting particularly, this phrase means sudden death, or starvation or bad government or some such less than interesting fate!
I stretched out in my tree the other day, I decided to co-operate with the World Jewish Congress and send in my picture to appear on their site. I haven't heard much or anything from the Jews that I used to know since my last guardian refused to let them speak to me, and said I wasn't Jewish anyway, so since Mabel was employed to do the radio work, for me... and why?
because I was unable to speak after the operation, and because of memory loss, and family losses, and being put somewhere else, and being a different color scheme, etc, I refused to speak for at least two years to anyone!
They had their revenge, they put me back into primary school, and made me grow up again! I was nearly qualified as a Doctor, although I had the body of a six year old, and was an all ages certified teacher. The shock was total, through a fog of not being right, no memory at all, and a feeling that it was all wrong!
So here's the link to my post or their post as they screen all entries
and here is the right site to go for further information, and to see similar survivors in their video presentation. They are very like to me, touched by light.
I hope you have enjoyed leggings, and although I'm not much to look at, and don't have much in life, never accepted any money from the Jewish organizations as I earned enough... from my early work. With no memory later even my bank accounts were taken perhaps by the last guardians? Who can know now? They rejected me again some years ago, its embarrassing knowing that money meant more to them than me... It's kind of like to the camp, who will let you down for a scrap of food? At that level they usually kept their last scrap for their child who was taken to the ward, and hadn't been seen again. They were human in extraordinary circumstances. I prefer to be without family of my own age now, knowing that mine were lost in the war, my children remain as mine of course, and I hope I've taught them about loyalty and about love.
I hope you will appreciate that writing my story over the years as finally given me a kind of peace... Thank you all.