The second snow of the season is on the ground now, having arrived overnight. Unlike the first snow, this snow is sticking to sidewalks and roads. It’s quite wet, which means it’s also bringing down the last, stalwart leaves still clinging to trees. Rascal’s and my morning walk today took us past a house whose maple, like one of our maples, had been hanging on almost all of its brilliant orange leaves.
There was a little girl standing very straight under the tree, letting all the letting-go-now leaves fall on her and around her. As the dog and I walked past on the other side of the street, the girl’s big brother came outside to stand with her under the tree in the fountain of leaves.
When the dog and I passed their way again later, sister and brother were still outside and had discovered that the snow was packing snow. They had each made a modest snowball and placed it carefully on the strip of lawn near the curb. Now they were packing the balls firmly into their positions, perhaps planning bigger creations. That’s not the standard technique for building snow people, but we’ll see what they made, the next time we pass their way.
Daughter Number One came from Wyoming for Thanksgiving. We have so enjoyed having her here. By prior arrangement, she arrived on Sunday evening, brought her luggage into the house, and went with us to a wine-and-cheese gathering, a couple doors over. She also minimized down time on her trip east, seeking out the geocaches in the airport during her layover in Minneapolis.
She ran errands with me on Monday, including to the laundromat to wash some sleeping bags, the lighting shop for porch lights, and the grocery store for Thanksgiving supplies. Activities at the house kept us busy till it was time to head to church for an evening lecture.
The speaker was Irene Butter, who spoke of her life as a Jew in Berlin. She had a happy life with her mother and father and brother until her early teens, when the Nazis placed more and more constraints on Jews. Her family escaped to Amsterdam, believing they would be safe there, but the Nazis took over the Netherlands, too. They rounded up Jewish families in house-to-house searches, packed them, standing,
into cattle cars, and sent them to concentration camps.
It was a harrowing experience, one that Dr. Butter did not speak of it for forty years. Her daughter persuaded her to break her silence, though, and she’s since written a memoir, Shores Beyond Shores. She’s done much more than that, as well, including co-founding the Raoul Wallenberg Medal and Lecture at the University of Michigan. The motto of that program is “One person can make a difference in building a better world,” and honorees have included such luminaries as Elie Weisel, Archbishop Edmond Tutu, and the Dalai Lama.
On Wednesday, nephew Jack and his husband B.J. arrived from New York. Such an infusion of energy from all these willing hands! And arms—the New York contingent arrived with arms full of home-canned preserves they’ve put up since moving into their house. Concord grape jam, carrots. marinara sauce, dill pickles, salsa, green hatch salsa: such bounty!
And such bounty for Thanksgiving! We were a group of ten for the feast. We oohed and ahhed at each other’s contributions. And, from my chair at one end of the long table, I thought of the bounty of fellowship we shared. All the faces there were faces I love. Some of our number came from distances, some from houses whose yards border ours. This year, everyone was well enough to get there.
As I write this, we’ve just learned of the death of a friend of ours. Carole called to tell us Mitch has died. The funeral will be at the synagogue on Tuesday. My husband and Mitch had been friends since they were undergraduates together at Michigan. Mitch lived a long and productive life, full of curiosity and zest. The world is better for his having lived in it. He and Carole were married for sixty-seven years. We will miss him.
Jack and B.J. are fixing dinner for us tonight, and heading home in the morning, their car laden with lovely, useful things culled in our continuing campaign to downsize. They’re happy to have them, and I’m happy not to have them. Some pieces date back three and four generations. I’m delighted that a family member wants them and will take pleasure in them.
All our guests will all be gone tomorrow. They made Thanksgiving extra happy.
29 November 2024