My Buried Boat From time to time, wrecked ships surface on Cape Cod’s Nauset Beach. They work their way up, a single plank pickled by the sea or the whole spine and ribcage of a boat that ran aground a hundred years before. Some are excavated and, when possible, they are identified. Then they typically remain where they are, too fragile or too incomplete to relocate. Jewish identity has been my buried boat. I didn’t know it was there and then I did and then, decades later, I wanted to excavate the vessel. I wanted to know what it was. And I wanted to understand why that excavation mattered so much to me.
This is an amazing story. I shared it with my life-long friend (our fathers were high school best friends in the Bronx in the 1930's). Sandy was brought up (with no religious practice) in California, married a man from Holland and has lived there since 1968, bringing up her two children and now helping to nurture their six grandchildren. She would like to be in touch with you Andrea. What is the best way to connect you guys?
My Buried Boat
Very interesting
This is an amazing story. I shared it with my life-long friend (our fathers were high school best friends in the Bronx in the 1930's). Sandy was brought up (with no religious practice) in California, married a man from Holland and has lived there since 1968, bringing up her two children and now helping to nurture their six grandchildren. She would like to be in touch with you Andrea. What is the best way to connect you guys?
Beautiful story. Very touching.
Thank you for sharing.
So interesting and we’ll written, Andrea! I’ve written about assimilation as well -and that spark that just won’t be assimilated.
An absolutely lovely story. Finally, something to cheer me during these rather dark days,
Beautiful story, beautifully written...