The Man on the Curb

A young man has a short encounter with a Holocaust survivor

There was an old man on the street corner selling toys for a charity. He had a benign but firm manner. The wrinkles on his face were in stark contrast to the torn down building behind him. The juxtaposition of these two images was eerie. He looked as if he was narcoleptic ; his eyes having a far-way look in them. He told me of a genocide long ago with concentration camps and gas chambers. But, I was half-listening. In all honesty, he was just another one of those “patriots” who now old and worn had no one to talk to so they talked to themselves. I gave a cheeky smile and began to walk towards my home. The last words of the man struck me as I was walking home “Bread, soup - these were my whole life.. Perhaps less than that even: a starved stomach. The stomach alone was the only thing that made me aware of the passage of time.” As I rushed back to the curb I remembered my favorite author’s words “To forget the Holocaust is to kill twice.” However, he was long gone. 

Author's Note

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