January 20th was the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. It's been the day celebrated as International Holocaust Remembrance Day.For years since finding my mother’s story after she passed away, going on six years, I’ve shared it on or around this day. It's about a little teapot left behind when the Jewish family it made tea for, had to flee from the Nazi's and were killed in a concentration camp.
Just this last Sunday Athena asked me to tell her again the story of the little teapot. I could see her little eyes get wide with wonder and questions. I told her one day when she learns to read and write, she can help me tell all these stories because it's the stories we live that are important.
Then yesterday in listening to the Impeachment Trial I heard Alan Dershowitz try and explain away President Trump’s abuse of power and why it wasn’t impeachable. I was shocked, in hearing how he could manipulate the law, say, that if asking a foreign power for dirt on your opponent to win a second term was in the eyes of Trump for the good of the people, then it wasn’t impeachable because it wasn’t done for his personal gain but for those he governed.
What?
My mother’s story came to mind, having just told it to a five year old, who still knows right from wrong, who understands childlike versus childish, whose mind has yet to be manipulated. Whose future I care about, who I write for because she’s yet to learn the art! Who I want to teach that the pen is mightier than the sword.
Mr. Dershowitz, shame on you, shame on you. How can you look those who suffered in the Holocaust and put forth a defense like that, shame on you. It was like listening to how Hitler came to absolute power with no one to put brakes on his madness, those that enabled him.
Shame on you! You should know better.
The Story of the Old Teapot
I was created in the mid nineteenth century, about 1850. My craftsman lived in Wiesbaden Germany and sold me to a young family by the name of Isakson, who lived in a large fine house with rooms that were richly paneled in wood, the 12 foot ceilings had ledges all around them. I stayed in the home making tea for three generations of Isakson’s. My brass sides were kept polished to a brilliant sheen. In the early twentieth century I was getting tired and did not have to make tea for the family any longer but was kept beautiful in remembrance of Grandpa and Grandma Isakson.
In the late 1930’s a few Germans, called Nazi’s began to persecute my family and others who practiced Judaism as their religious belief. These few Germans did not understand that Judaism was a religion not a nationality and that all the practicing Jews were Germans like themselves.
My family became very worried, there were rumors of Jews disappearing and not being able to buy food in the marketplace. My family started to make plans to leave Germany, Frau Muhler who had worked for them since she was a young girl and loved them very much helped them hide some of their things in the attic and the basement, so when they came back, they would be there, treasures from generations before. I being a lowly teapot was put high up on the ledge in a corner which was quite dark and hence, I no longer got polished.
The year was between 1939 and 1940. One day I heard my family say we must go away, the Nazi’s will come for us soon. So they deeded our beautiful home over to Frau Muhler, who said she would keep it for them until they could return. On the night my family left our home, Frau Muhler sewed money and jewels in their clothes so they could buy food and pay to get away.
By 1941 the whole world was fighting, country against country, cousin against cousin! In Wiesbaden the Nazi’s came to our home and told Frau Muhler she must rent out rooms, they took the fine china, crystal and paintings off the wall. They said the Jews owed it to the state and the things did not belong to her, but she could keep the house as she had a deed and was a good German.
I stayed high up on my ledge, but by now I was green and dirty. The war ended but my family did not return, they had died in a concentration camp during the war.
From 1945 to 1956 many people rented the apartments from Frau Muhler. She was growing old and had long forgotten I was there.
One day in 1956, on a very cold December day, a young American family moved into the apartment where I had been hiding all these years, a mama, papa and two, small baby girls. The papa traveled for an American firm. He was gone all week, leaving mama and the babies in the little apartment with only Frau Muhler to advise mama on where to buy milk and food in the shops. Frau Muller and mama became good friends.
Frau Muhler loved the babies and came every day to visit mama. She would tell stories of the war years, and what happened to the Jews. She was so ashamed of some of her countrymen.
One day the mama looked up at the high ceiling, in what had been the dining room, in the corner she saw me, looking very sad and dirty. My color was green and black by now, cob webs hung all over me. She asked Frau Muhler what I was, Frau Muhler looked at me and quietly said, “that is a teapot belonging to the family who owned the house before me, I forgot it was there.”
The mama and Frau Muhler got a ladder and brought me down. Frau Muhler said to mama, “there is a story behind this old teapot!” then she told the mama my story! The mama felt very sad about what had happened to my family.
A few months later the mama, papa and little girls found a large modern apartment and moved away to a new neighborhood, not far from our big house.
One day Frau Muhler called the mama and said, “I have something I want to give you!”
The mama came to our house and Frau Muhler brought out a newspaper wrapped package and handed it to the mama! She said, “I want you to have this to remember me by, you are very kind and special.”
The mama un-wrapped the gift and there I was, all shinning and beautiful again. The mama was deeply touched by the gift of me.
In 1960 my new family and I came back to the United States and I sat in a prominent place in their living room. By now two more children filled their home, a little girl born in Germany and a son born in Washington State.
The mama began to wonder why we had wars, why religions did not agree on one God, why there were such prejudices amongst human beings. She tried to bring up her children to accept all peoples of the world, to work for peace and to respect other people’s religious beliefs.
The mama is aging and has grandchildren. I still sit in the living room.
One day she looked at me and said, “You have been instrumental in helping me to arrive at a clear understanding of who I am as a human being, now it is time you go to a new home!”
The mama’s son-in-law’s religious heritage and beliefs are Jewish. She felt I should again be placed in a home that is loving and where the family will not forget what cruelties human beings perpetuate against their fellow man because of different religions, race and or nationalities.
The mama said, “You belong in a Jewish home. The last Jewish family you belonged to died in a concentration camp in Germany in 1943.”
I know my story will continue for another hundred years.
Yes, but what about this republic, will we continue this experiment in democracy for another hundred years?
