Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Meet me in Miami

I was reading a news article today about two brothers who met by chance after 30 some odd years.  One recognized the US east coast accent of the other and started listing off names from a particular town to see if they knew anyone in common when they realized  they were brothers who were separated at a very young age.  Here is a link to the story

It reminded me of a chance meeting a man I worked with told me.

Meyer was born in Poland and when he was very young  his father died.   He and his 6 brothers and sisters all worked to keep their mother and family fed and housed.  Meyer worked for a shoe cobbler until, at the age of 14,  was taken to a concentration camp along with the rest of his family.  At the end of the war Meyer and his brothers were the only surviving members of the family.  He came to Winnipeg and his brother went to New York.  He married, had a son and worked long hard hours in his own clothing manufacturing business.  He sold the business at the age of 68 when his wife was taken ill with cancer but still managed to come in to work every day (this is the point at which I met him).  After his Sadie passed away his friends tried year after year to get him to go to Miami with them, where they all wintered, but Meyer felt it wasn't a place for him.  One year, after much perstering by his friends, he gave in and off he went. 

By this time he was in his late seventies and was not happy to be in Miami.  He didn't like the activities, didn't care for hotel living and felt "third wheel" in the midst of couples.  One early morning, 5 or 5:30, he decided to go for a walk on the beach "when it wasn't covered with half naked bodies"  and saw an elderly man struggling to get back up the beach to the sidewalk. The slope of the beach and the looseness of the sand where making progress for this gentleman impossible.  Meyer decided to help him .   The old man was annoyed when Meyer tried to take his arm to assist and let fly a few words. 
Meyer said "I recognize that accent, where are you from?"  The old man said Kielce, in Poland.  Meyer said,  "Thats were I lived.  I worked for a cobbler there, maybe you know him?'  The old man looked at Meyer and said "I am him"

So keep your accent - you never know when your world will collide with someone from your past.

And wear your sun screen.


The Moerks said...

What a great story. Small world isn't it.

Gary's third pottery blog said...