Photo of my dad,
black & white,
In Nissen Hut
During his National Service in the 50’s.
Looking straight to the camera,
Unblinking,
Unusual for him who always seemed off-centre,
on the periphery;
From the light
I assume it was evening,
Although, inside those places,
there was likely never was much illumination.
Two stripes on his shoulder,
I don’t know the meaning*,
nor the significance,
nor the year.
Thick hair,
slicked-back,
Pen in hand,
he was always an adroit, meticulous writer.
And, piles of papers to his left and right
and in front;
I can’t imagine their subject matter,
for the stories he related were few.
The only two,
I heard more than once
Was his experience of jumping out of a plane at 15,000 feet (fear)
and the other,
Taking a fellow soldier
From the barracks, who for whatever misdemeanour was in handcuffs,
to the synagogue for New Year prayers. (Dad un-cuffed him)
Seems timely
Given there is only a fortnight to go until
Rosh Hashanah
Then, Yom Kippur.
* Corporal
He jumped out of a plane…! Didn’t know that one.
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Amazed you didn’t hear that story?!
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and, also wondering how many stories you know that i dont…
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