I will not tolerate anti-semitism anywhere!
My beloved husband was Jewish.
The family he came from was the finest...cultured, devout, happy, funny Ashkenazi Jews.
Brilliant, educated, successful, good citizens, wore the U.S. Army uniform proudly.
Uncle Abe even rode horseback into Mexico, with Pershing, chasing Santa Ana. Abe was an Orthodox boy from the Lower East Side!
He sat next to me one day on a bench in a Boston Subway Station, as we waited for the train. He saw one of my books. It was a French Bible. I was studying French and a few Divinity Courses. He started speaking with me in French.
It was quite unusual, but we chatted. Turns out that he was a Rabbi. He spoke 7 languages. I later used to visit him in his little store near Downtown Boston regularly. We became good friends. He liked me because of a lot of reasons, but one thing for sure was that he appreciated was that I am a big Dude, and I walked with him to the bank where he made his deposits when I could. He felt safe around me.
He always toyed with me, wanted to circumcise me, as if he knew my status. Wanted me to become a Jew. He was a great guy and I loved him.
I was about 20 when I met him. He was 74 or so in those days.
I went off to Europe, for the Army. I never saw him again after that. I figure that he would be about a hundred and ten now, so likely he passed, but I truly liked him a lot.
There is more to the story, but I ain't telling all out here.
Correction: It was Pancho Villa, not Santa Anna.
A senior moment.