Item Left By Distant Relative

Christmas is the only time I see my extended family during the year.  December 25th is not as exciting for me as it is to every other child in America.  Presents are great, (cash is even better), but my weird great aunt and uncle always stay with us for a few days.  It is not as if I live in a vacation destination so I really do not understand why they make the long drive from Harrison County, Texas to Mission Hills, Kansas.  I try to avoid them as much as possible when they stay with us.  My great Uncle Robert is ancient.  I think he looks prehistoric, but in reality he is only 93.  Although he is deaf in his left ear, he is very with it.  I have always considered him a kooky old man, but my mother hates when I say bad things about him.  

My brother hates being around me during this time.  Max is four years my senior and is expected to be more mature and social than me.  He also is always bitter because he thinks he should get more expensive gifts from relatives since he is older, but that never happens.  After the holidays ended, Max found something on the nightstand in our guest room.  It was torn and ragged, something I would most likely would have thrown away.  He brought it to my parents attention and the called me downstairs for a “family meeting,” a thing my Mom is really into lately because of the new parenting book she has been reading.  Needless to say, I was pissed that I had to be there and gave Max a death stare for causing this gathering.

My father looked at us with sad eyes and a gentle smile.  He revealed a darkened yellow piece of cloth with six points.  I knew exactly what is was, but had no idea why it was found in my house.  “Jude” was written in black letters across the star.  My dad began to tell a story about Uncle Robert.  He lived in Germany as a tailor before and during WWII.  His favorite seamstress, Ester, was a young Jew.  After the Nazis came to power and began to send Jews to concentration camps, Robert knew he needed to do something to protect her.  He agreed to let her stay in his basement as long as she stayed there at all times.  As the Nazi party became more powerful and dominant, Ester knew she would need to flee the country if she had any hope of survival.  One night she took off in the cloak of darkness and took all of her remaining possessions.  She left only an army green pea coat behind, an item Robert has since held near and dear to his heart.  Sewn just above the left breast was a yellow Star of David with bold black letters that read “Jude.”

I never knew Uncle Robert hid a person during the Holocaust.  I wanted to know what became of Ester, but my father said Robert never heard from her after she left.  I am going to ask him about it next year for sure.  I never realized all of the historical events he could have been a part of.  The real question is: how did he end up in Texas?

In Memory of Robert Schuster

Bus Stop Outside Apartment Window

I live in a walkup.  My apartment is small and contains little more than a toilet, sink, bed and a minor few possessions.  The bed has only a thin mattress covering a concrete slab, which for an old guy like me, does not do much to help my back.  A red fleece blanket neatly covers it.  The room is simple, but it is not like I have many options, everyone has to make do with the accommodations.  My neighbors are loud and at night can get rowdy.  Sometimes during the day I get together with a few of them downstairs at the indoor courtyard to play cards, or on rare occasions watch a movie.  

I wake up before dawn every day and look out of my window.  My view is obstructed by two vertical metal poles and although they can be distracting, at times they have become invisible to me.  Today I see something unusual.  A white school bus comes to a stop just outside the entrance of our building.  I count as each man steps off the bus.  They all are wearing the same brightly colored jumpsuits and have their hands held behind their backs.  Some are short; some are tall.  Some are heavily tattooed with skin acting like a canvas.  All of the men mean the same thing: more crime, more wrongdoings, more neighbors for me.  

After spotting the bus, men in uniforms came around to do a count at five thirty this morning.  No one was missing so we were allowed to prepare for the day ahead.  I dressed in a fresh set of clothes and combed my hair back.  All of our doors were opened and we left our rooms.  Breakfast this morning consisted of deep yellow scrambled eggs, two tender sausage patties, and buttery stone ground grits.  Morning meals are my favorite because they rarely involve any produce.  The only vegetables I like are corn and potatoes because healthy foods are nasty.  I ate by myself this morning because on every Monday, I eat alone.  My Momma worked all day on Mondays when I was a kid and would not come home until after I was asleep.  She said everybody needed a day to reflect so Mondays were my day.  

My job is in the laundry room.  I was supposed to report there after breakfast, but a female approached me and instructed me to follow her.  She led me into the landlord’s office and he instructed me to take a seat.  He told me something unusual had happened.  I began thinking about what I possibly could have done wrong, but no big incident came to mind.  I was told the detectives who had been working with the police chief on my case had withheld vital evidence that would prove my innocence in court because they needed to reach certain quotas.  I sat in shock and tears started streaming down my face.  Aside from my mother’s funeral, I have never remembered crying.  I gave up the thought of being able to leave this place after my second court appeal failed.  I accepted the idea that this would be my home for life.

My conviction was overturned.  I am a free man.  I gathered my belongings and was lead into a room where I stripped my clothes and put on the outfit I wore here 11 years ago.  I walked out the door knowing I would never return to prison again.