A day of celebrations

We take a brief respite from tales of war and deprivation to mark some happy occasions.

Harry was born on January 13, 1924.

Helene’s memories of life in Vienna were happy ones, recalling being with family and celebrating important occasions like birthdays and holidays. This is something passed down to my generation and beyond. Harry’s wife coined a term for these gatherings – “Furry events”, FUR standing for Family Unification Ritual – the first such named event came with a stuffed animal for each family member. Gifts were usually creative, silly, fun, and inexpensive. Often wrapped in deceptive ways.

Here is his mother’s note on his 40th birthday (clearly a paraphrase): 

January 13, 1968.

Where shall I turn,
When the sorrow and grief weigh upon me?
To whom can I express my delight
When my heart is beating faster?
To you, to you my Harry,
I come in sorrow & joy.
You share my joys,
And you heal every pain.

Your mother.

German Mass - Franz Schubert.

Here is Harry wearing a hat my mother brought him back from Russia for his 60th birthday:

My parents got married on January 13 - perhaps they chose the same day as Harry’s birthday because it was a Saturday and they were not working that day. They wed in 1945 while Harry was a soldier in the South Pacific and her parents were interned in the camps. I’ve always wondered whether she would have married so early had she not felt so alone in the world.

One of the curious coincidences that occurred recently is that last week I needed a blank notebook. Harry always kept oodles of blank paper and after he died I discovered a stack of blank notebooks. I thought I had used them all up but a few days ago I pulled out a notebook and on the first page in Harry’s handwriting it said “Happy Birthday!” along with a cryptic message that would have gone with whatever eccentric gift he was giving that year. I felt that he was making sure I wouldn’t forget his birthday this year. Happy Birthday, Harry!