Published August 12, 2004

    In working with Lisa on her column, there’s been a parallel process with her writing and her physical rehab. Getting her words, sentences and paragraphs back, has been a lot like taking those first "baby steps". Our first shared outing a few weeks back was mostly me, but as her spirits and strength return, she’s increasingly back at the helm. And while the words at times are mine, the stories and the courage are hers. Last week I gave her a topic, "Do something on Reminiscence," I said, and was delighted to return and find the following--CA

When you have lived on this planet for more than 85 years, you cannot help but notice the changes that have taken place during all that time. Often, it seems like a dream—where you find it hard to differentiate between reality and what appears to be a figment of your imagination.

As I lie in bed, recuperating from an "event", as my doctor referred to it, I begin my journey through the past century and the beginning of this new one. Pictures of people who have crossed my path, countries I have visited and inventions that shook the world appear in front of my eyes. They compete with each other, like contestants at a game show, each vying for attention. And I need to pick what’s important and what’s not.

In my time—how strange that sounds, but each of us does have their own time—there was a certain pattern rooted in my childhood, that had to be adhered to and that formed the cornerstone for my future existence.

I am grateful for those rules, as you may call them, a mixture that consisted of a lot of love, combined with discipline. They have stood me in good stead and have helped me to become the person I am today.

Even though my formal education was cut short by the Nazis, whatever I learned during my brief stay at school has stuck with me to the present. I can still recite pages and pages of "The Happy Prince" or "Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans", as if I had read them yesterday. And, when I once traveled to France, my two years of school French allowed me to manage quite well in that language. The discipline and the drills I was exposed to paid off.

Images of a teacher come into view. Dr. Gertrude Jauer was her name and I had a big crush on her. I used to make all kinds of presents for her, like crocheting an outfit for a Kewpie doll, underneath whose white skirt six egg warmers were hidden to keep boiled eggs hot at breakfast time.

My parents would invite her to our home for coffee and I’d be so proud that she was my friend. Then she withdrew and no longer accepted our hospitality. She was afraid to have any association with Jews, a fact that could be held against her and ruin her career—or worse. We never mentioned her anymore, but I was deeply hurt. Thinking back, I believe it was my first disappointment in human nature.

I close my eyes, and let my life flash by like a slide show, each frame disconnected from the next, yet strangely interwoven by a common thread. You should try it, like looking through forgotten photo albums.

I hear the roar of the V1 and the V2 bombers overhead, the whistling of bombs, the anti-aircraft mortar. I see buildings collapse that, only moments ago, had protected those who lived within their solid walls, now a heap of broken bricks and ashes. Now I’m running through the streets wearing a helmet, my boarding house blown to bits, trying to find safety, to find the man I was falling in love with.

And I see the Statue of Liberty that bids me welcome and a promise for a new beginning, after the nightmare has ended.

There follow years of good times and hard times, of relationships that would last till the present day and those that proved to be disappointing. I had a book published and also got "the big break" when my writing abilities were finally recognized and I became the US correspondent of "Schweizer Illustrierte", the largest magazine in Switzerland.

This led me to countries and to meeting all kinds of interesting people. Since then, I have interviewed so many celebrities—it’s difficult to keep count. Hundreds? Thousands perhaps? [only my hairdresser knows for sure]

Among them there have been such personalities as Marlene Dietrich—not a nice person, Salvador Dali—interviewed in a men’s room, Henny Youngman—I could tell you stories, Clint Eastwood—so handsome, Geraldine Fitzgerald—her interview got me connected with Andy Warhol, Walter Matthau, Cary Grant, Harry Belafonte, Alfred Hitchcock, Goldie Hawn, Kirk Douglas—such a gentleman, Charlton Heston, Otto Preminger, George Burns, Henry Kissinger, Jane Fonda, Jacqueline Susanne, Francois Gilot [Picasso’s mistress who bore him two children—Paloma and Claude—I once collaborated with Claude on a story, "The Woman with the Most Furs". I wrote the text and he took the pictures].

I attended Leopold Stokowski’s 90^th birthday party, which took place at the Metropolitan museum. I met him again at a party given in his honor at the animal talent scout agency and photographed him with Llinda Llee the Llama, after he’d conducted Carnival des Animaux at Carnegie Hall with live animals walking across the stage while he conducted.

Talking about 90^th birthdays; I also was a guest at Eubie Blake’s celebration and treasure the records he autographed for me. I could go on and on with my Odyssey through the years and the wonderful people I’ve encountered along the way, but I’m getting sleepy. As my lids grow heavy I hear Henny Youngman, "Take my wife please," and somewhere in the distance Dietrich sings, "Falling in Love Again."

[ Home ] [ Up ]