Recent Posts



Saturday, 28 February 2009

by Nidra Poller (March 2009)

July 2007
A grandmother of my vintage—I was born in 1935—is the receptacle of so many additions…so many subtractions…such intricate juxtapositions…
…a woman my age is the accumulation of so many times and places, the junction of generation upon generation and, today, a person in her own right acting in the world with the full force of her individuality. A little old lady-- bubbe, babushka, granny—sits in a rocking chair deep in the heart, chewing her teeth, worrying a handkerchief. Who will accompany my generations as they skirt dangerous neighborhoods? Are the airplanes safe, the highways patrolled, the doors locked; are the young ladies fertile and the young men good providers, are the schools good, the teachers smart, the grades fair; is the future bright?  The young reply: Not to worry, grand-mère. T’inquiètes. Meaning ne t’inquiètes pas.  more>>>
Posted on 02/28/2009 5:05 PM by NER
1 Mar 2009

 *That* was brilliant!

It reminded me of the scene toward the end of the final 'Harry Potter' book, when Mrs Weasley steps forward to dispose of the evil Bellatrix:

"You - will - never- touch - our- children - again!!" screamed Mrs Weasley.  Bellatrix laughed...Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix' outstretched arm and hit her squarely on the chest, directly over her heart".

Nidra and all the other mothers and grandmothers of the West, or of the wider non-Muslim world facing the soulless killers of the Third Jihad, is Mrs Weasley.

Nidra's words also made me think of a powerful essay by Denis McEoin, which begins with his reflections upon a photograph out of the Shoah: a Jewish mother crouching over her child as both are about to be shot.  The essay ends with these words: