Thursday, June 03, 2010
Boiled Half Potato
I am in my forty plus days 0f fasting. I have barricaded the kitchen so I am less tempted. Yesterday I opened the fridge for cool diluted coffee and saw a small half boiled potato in PE wrapping. My dear wife always keeps food remains for ages wrapped in several layers of plastic, till they start smelling, but this was fresh. I stole and ate it. I think never food tasted so sweet, so good. Heavenly.
It reminded me of my Father z"l. He told me his forced labor regiment were retiring back into Hungary from Bor, the copper mine in Serbia where they have been working (some ten thousand Jewish forced labor slaves had been loaned to the Germans) and they were starving but for the Serbian farmers that allowed them to collect potatoes from their fields. My Father said it was very very good. He had sweet memories of baking those potatoes on campfire. He also said that they all the time felt as Yom Kippur.
My Mother also had intimate knowledge of prolonged starvation but I cant ask her. I miss her.