Survivor

Quite often, I am tired when I write. Frequently, the demands of a day, be they work, or home management, or parenthood, take a great deal of energy. By the time I am writing, it is either the end of a long day or the very early start to a new one, and often I wish I could be in a warm cozy bed, not a care in the world.

Today, I heard a 96 year old man speak. More specifically, a 96 year old Holocaust survivor, who spent years of his young life hiding in factory stalls and forests, not eating for days, and escaping from multiple concentration camps. He told his story with clarity and with details I wouldn't remember for a week, much less 70 years. You could have believed it was an adventure novel, except you knew it was real.

As his talk ended, I couldn't help but wonder how I, or any of us, who tire from everyday life and who long for our cozy beds, would have handled such a situation. At every turn, this man realized he needed to act in order to survive. At every turn, he did what needed to be done, both for himself and, when possible, for his family. I pictured him walking for miles without food when I have a hard time even moving in the morning without breakfast and coffee. I pictured him thinking constantly about his next strategy, safeguarding possessions by burying them, safeguarding relatives by teaching them codes. There was no time for relaxing on the couch or lounging with a newspaper.

Obviously, we are lucky to live in a very different time. But perspective, whether it is from a survivor of extreme things or from a neighbor whose life is just a bit more complicated than our own, is something that we need, no matter what our time and place. It might not keep us from being tired or craving the comforts that surround us, but it is a reminder that we too can survive. In a way much less heroic than this 96 year old speaker, but survive nonetheless.