Scene 40
Scene Forty...Purple Heart
Time: Suppertime, Sunday, May 19, 1946
Place: Doris's home
Storyteller: Janet
"Janet, set the table!" Betty calls from the kitchen.
I pull the buffet drawer to get out "Grandma's good silver." A small box bumps into the spoons. I open it. It looks like a purple heart, with a gold profile of George Washington in the center. "William, what's this? Do you know?"
He whispers, "The Purple Heart. Doris must have been wounded in the war."
Doris enters the dining room and sees what we're up to. "It was nothing really," she says, then takes the medal and puts it away.
I'm crying. "That scar on your leg?"
"My hospital ship was bombed. My leg got burnt, but it healed quickly."
Betty heard everything. She's standing beside me, crying.
Doris says, "Let's eat."
We obey. Dinner is quiet.
She speaks, "You might as well know the rest of my history. I can't forget the dates."
"My father, Walter, was a colleague of Albert Einstein at the Berlin Academy of Science."
"My mother, Naomi, took my brother and me to Miami to visit Grandma in the summer of '32. In July a letter came from Papa, telling Mama to stay in Florida because of the Nazi build-up. She didn't listen. She left her half-Jewish children with her mother, but returned to her husband.
They wrote to us often."
"1933. Hitler became Chancellor. Einstein was visiting the U.S., and being Jewish, he didn't return to Germany.
"1935. German Jews were deprived of their citizenship.
My parents continued to write."
"March 11, 1938. Hitler invaded Austria.
My parents continued to write."
"March 15, 1939. Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia.
My parents continued to write."
"September 1, 1939. Hitler invaded Poland.
The letters stopped."
Silence.
Betty brings a tray of ice water.
William breaks the silence. "I know what it's like to never have a biological family, but to have one, and then they're gone...Doris...it's unimaginable."
She replies, "Why did I bring this up? Nothing can be done and now we all feel terrible. I'm sorry."
"Nonsense. It's unhealthy to keep pain locked up inside you, right?" Betty looks at William.
"Some people drink themselves to death because they can't handle grief. It's better to talk about it with someone you trust," he says.
"You can talk with me anytime, Doris. I'm even jealous because Dad likes you more than he likes me, but you're still my very best friend in the world." I say this in all sincerity.
Doris shakes her head. "Janet, you're wrong about your Dad. He just has a hard time expressing his true feelings. He's a complex man."
Time: Suppertime, Sunday, May 19, 1946
Place: Doris's home
Storyteller: Janet
"Janet, set the table!" Betty calls from the kitchen.
I pull the buffet drawer to get out "Grandma's good silver." A small box bumps into the spoons. I open it. It looks like a purple heart, with a gold profile of George Washington in the center. "William, what's this? Do you know?"
He whispers, "The Purple Heart. Doris must have been wounded in the war."
Doris enters the dining room and sees what we're up to. "It was nothing really," she says, then takes the medal and puts it away.
I'm crying. "That scar on your leg?"
"My hospital ship was bombed. My leg got burnt, but it healed quickly."
Betty heard everything. She's standing beside me, crying.
Doris says, "Let's eat."
We obey. Dinner is quiet.
She speaks, "You might as well know the rest of my history. I can't forget the dates."
"My father, Walter, was a colleague of Albert Einstein at the Berlin Academy of Science."
"My mother, Naomi, took my brother and me to Miami to visit Grandma in the summer of '32. In July a letter came from Papa, telling Mama to stay in Florida because of the Nazi build-up. She didn't listen. She left her half-Jewish children with her mother, but returned to her husband.
They wrote to us often."
"1933. Hitler became Chancellor. Einstein was visiting the U.S., and being Jewish, he didn't return to Germany.
"1935. German Jews were deprived of their citizenship.
My parents continued to write."
"March 11, 1938. Hitler invaded Austria.
My parents continued to write."
"March 15, 1939. Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia.
My parents continued to write."
"September 1, 1939. Hitler invaded Poland.
The letters stopped."
Silence.
Betty brings a tray of ice water.
William breaks the silence. "I know what it's like to never have a biological family, but to have one, and then they're gone...Doris...it's unimaginable."
She replies, "Why did I bring this up? Nothing can be done and now we all feel terrible. I'm sorry."
"Nonsense. It's unhealthy to keep pain locked up inside you, right?" Betty looks at William.
"Some people drink themselves to death because they can't handle grief. It's better to talk about it with someone you trust," he says.
"You can talk with me anytime, Doris. I'm even jealous because Dad likes you more than he likes me, but you're still my very best friend in the world." I say this in all sincerity.
Doris shakes her head. "Janet, you're wrong about your Dad. He just has a hard time expressing his true feelings. He's a complex man."