WHAT ELSA TOLD ME

Dear Elsa,

When I saw you on the subway platform, I thought you were a ghost, all wrapped cocoon-like in that chiffon scarf and chic pale pink outfit, your skin transparent and milky smooth, your soft eyes and hair blending like tulle into the background.

I could sense that you had been looking at me for awhile. And when the train arrived I watched you approach me. Saying that I reminded you of someone famous was a clever and safe way to open a conversation. I knew what you were doing though. Already. And I went with it, guiding you gently to a seat where we could sit together. You were so fascinating to look at.

When you told me about the man that you had once loved, how much he had meant to you, I could see the tears glisten in your eyes and even though it happened so many years ago, it was as if it was yesterday and I understood that he was your soul mate. And when you discovered he was married already, you wondered how could he have kept this secret for so long knowing about your past and what had happened to you. It was heartbreaking. I asked what had happened to you and you seemed surprised, as if I should have known it all along, that you are Jewish and had barely escaped the holocaust as a child. You heard me gasp.

‍ ‍

You told me how you left your native Poland, fleeing into a forest, three young children, you and your brothers, how you lived in that forest all winter with no shoes or winter clothes, how you ate bark from the trees and dug under the snow for roots. How you and brothers built a little place to huddle and hide and that you were so very, very frightened and I could still see so much deep suffering in those memories. How you knew parents were gone, even then you knew and you were only six years old. But you also knew that you had to survive and look... you did survive Elsa. You survived and you lived. How you lived! Even though you were only able to recover some of that life back. Something stayed in the forest like a ghost and never came out.

The reason I gasped, Elsa was because the night before you and I met, I had a dream about the Holocaust. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to interrupt your story but I was truly astonished that you were telling me this on a train that afternoon. In the dream, I was in Europe somewhere and was trying to convince some teachers that their children were in great danger, that the Nazis were coming for them. I was begging them to stop singing and to hide but the teachers were reluctant, not grasping the urgency of the situation. I woke up in a panic and couldn’t go back to sleep even though it was only four in the morning. I didn’t tell you this Elsa even though you were sitting right there telling me about your childhood and the nightmare you went through, how you barely came out alive - the miracle of how you and your brothers survived this ordeal.

I felt the urgency to tell this important story, that you were trying to get as much as you could into our exchange. You sensed that your days were numbered and you were hoping that I might be a witness to this story before your generation of survivors are gone and all those memories would fade from us forever.

We rode together on the subway train from the bottom of the city to the top. When we arrived at your stop, I watched you reluctantly rise and as the doors closed I knew I would not see you again. Thank you for that lovely fragile wave as the train pulled away. I will cherish that memory.

Later on that day I remembered having an obsession with the Holocaust that had come upon me in my twelve year old fever, activated by a story told to my grade six class about children being hidden by families in the countryside of Poland. Remembering how I went out and tried to find every book on the subject to understand what had happened there. I had forgotten this shadowy piece of my childhood when libraries in Pointe Claire Quebec were overturned for materials to feed my need to understand. It is with regret that I did not learn more about your life before the subway doors closed and you passed out of my life forever.

But I will not fail you Elsa. I will tell your story.

Sincerely,

Jody Terio

September 2017


Sep
24

VERA

VERA

Vera and I grew up together in a small town in Northern Ontario and I followed her into the city of Sault Ste. Marie to go to college. She chased strategically after a Ministry of Resources guy, while I went to Cambrian College and became a nurse. Vera’s mother was a native French speaker and even though Vera’s last name was Scottish, she spoke the two languages flawlessly and worked as a French court interpreter.

Vera and I stayed friends while we raised our families. We didn’t see each other daily or even weekly but attended many of the same social events, sharing circles of friends and leaning on our shopping carts and gossiping in the aisles of Walmart and No Frills. She would wave her arms like a dancer, to articulate the wonders of life and laugh heartily, while I smiled demurely at her jokes, her stories about the family dog, the unforgettable trip to the dentist, the kids’ schoolteachers, the incompetence of the PTA.

Vera was the picture of handsome with her tall frame, straight dark hair always wrapped carefully around her neck, earrings, pearl necklaces, the whole deal. I would wonder how she found time to do all this, even when her kids were small. I admired Vera’s generosity and her ability to express her love to everyone she knew. I was nowhere near as generous by nature and constantly struggled with work, home, a social life and personal care. Then she told me that her husband Stan participated fully in their lives together, cooking dinners and even taking the kids on holidays in summer while Vera went off on her own adventures. I admired Stan for that. My husband was not so..... participatory.

Once our children were old enough to go to school we played bridge together at the community centre every 3rd Wednesday evening of the month. Large swaths of ladies, young and old would meet, switching tables after each game. Vera and always made a point of playing at least one hand together.

It was standing in a store talking to Vera one day that I noticed that Vera’s eyes were darting around nervously. I think then we were both in our late sixties, our kids were out in the world on their own and our jobs were winding down. Shortly afterwards I noticed while playing bridge that she uncharacteristically stumbled over words then threw in french words haphazardly into the sentence. I wondered if she was under an unusual amount of stress.

Next month I noticed that she stumbled again. Then I saw her temper rise and a bunch of french swear words come tumbling out. Everyone at the table was shocked and a bit amused. Words, she said she seemed to be always searching for words. After the bridge game, I asked Vera how she was doing. Her hands flailed, her eyes darted around and she said. ‘I just don`t know what’s wrong with me Joan, I feel fine but I keep losing my temper. Suddenly. I don`t expect it. It just happens. Without my knowing it...oh....I don’t know....’ and her voice trailed off. ‘Stress at work?’ I asked carefully. She shrugged and flailed her hands again and looked at her watch. ‘Oh no, I have to be somewhere.’ And scuttled out. Quickly. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

She didn’t come to bridge for a few months and I wondered if she was ill. I kept meaning to call but other things took over. Then some months later I ran into her at the No Frills in the parking lot. I was so happy to see her.

“Vera!”

She looked disheveled and stared at me blankly.

“What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t find my car. I don’t know which one is mine?’

I sat her down on a bench outside the store. ‘Let’s just think about it.’ Then Vera cried. It was this quiet uncontrolled shaking.

‘I’m going to drive you and your groceries home. The car can sit here for the night. No one will take it. In the morning you can come back and get it.’ I ushered her into my car and drove her home.

She was quiet, sullen, and despondent. I walked her to the house and she said, ‘I’m alright now. Thank you Joan. I love you.’ She stroked my cheek.

The next day I called Stan at work to let him know that Vera’s car was in the parking lot of the No Frills.

‘Stan, I think something is up with her. She seems very stressed.’

Silence.

‘Has she seen see someone?’

Stan seemed irritated. ‘Who?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe a doctor?’

Silence.

‘Stan, I think something’s going on her memory?’

‘Its nothing Joan. Thank you for your concern. I’ll go and get the car.’

He hung up. Not even goodbye.

I didn’t see Vera for a long time and was loathe to interfere as Stan had been so abrupt. It was probably months and being winter in the north, it is not unusual for people to disappear into their houses. She had stopped coming to bridge and although some ladies asked about her, no one seemed to know anything.

I called her house in the early spring and got an answering machine. I left a message but she didn’t return my call. I kept thinking about her, wondering how she was. I bumped into Stan at the grocery story and asked, he said ‘She’s fine.’ Quickly and moved on.

But Vera was on my mind. One day in late spring, I dropped by the house on a Sunday afternoon. I figured she might be around, it was warm, she liked to garden, perhaps she was outside. I went around the back and there she was, sitting quietly in a chair. When I said hello, she looked at me strangely and smiled.

‘Vera, how are you?’ Her eyes were fixed towards the garden.

‘Isn’t it lovely out here today?’ she spoke softly.

‘Vera, it’s me, Joan’.

‘The roses are going to bloom soon.’ Pause. ‘I love roses.’

It was that eureka moment when the light goes on. Vera had early onset dementia. A deep wave of sadness came over me. She stroked my cheek. ‘I love you’ she said. And I knew it was true. But also that she didn’t quite remember who I was other then that I seemed familiar.

I left her sitting there on that late May afternoon. How could this happen to my lovely friend? And what was to be her future? Fortunately her kids were grown up enough now to manage on their own. That gave me some relief.

I dropped in to see her at home a few times that summer and fall and she was always happy to see me. I took her shopping in my car and she was grateful. She was not dressed beautifully anymore. Her clothes looked worn out and wrinkled.

That winter Stan called me. ‘I just wanted you to know, you were ...well... are a good friend of Vera. She is in long term care at Mapleview.’ I knew where that was.

Stan was apologetic. ‘I just couldn’t look after her. She kept leaving the house when I was out and getting lost. If you want to visit her, she’s on the fourth floor.’ He hung up abruptly.

She was sitting in the common room staring at the TV. Her hair was graying quickly and hung in ever so limply on her shoulders. I saw the pictures of her beside the door of her room, and remembered how handsome she was, how carefully she put her clothes together, how coiffed her hair was. Now I saw a woman in track pants, a worn out tea shirt and tangled hair, the perfect mirror of her tangled brain.

I called Stan and asked him to bring some of Vera’s clothes. I even offered to come and get them if he was busy but he dismissed me. Finally, I went out to the thrift store and bought her some colourful sweaters that she wears all the time.

That was three years ago. I go and see Vera a few times a month. I asked at the nurses station a few months ago if Stan or her kids were visiting. The nurse said she hardly ever had visitors and they had never met her husband.

She still flails her arms in lovely patterns when she talks. She always tells me how much she loves me. She can’t count or read and struggles repeatedly with words. Mostly when I ask her questions, she says ‘I don’t know’ and shrugs her shoulders. She is 78 years old.

Jody Terio

September 2015

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Wednesday at 9:30 am (Restorative & Pranayama)

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
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LOCATION: ONLINE

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www.julesthaimassage.com

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PO IYENGAR YOGA: IGNITE THE SPARK


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Wednesdays at 9:30 am (Restorative & Pranayama)

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
https://online.studiopoyoga.com/calendar

The 3 Po’s

At Studio Po, we are committed to nourishing power, possibility, and poise - individually and collectively.

Power.

Power is about physical strength but also mental, emotional, & spiritual fortitude. It’s about the transformative experience of practice and the joyful nourishment of community.

Possibility.

Possibility is about trying something new but also redefining what is familiar. It’s about the courage to sit with discomfort for the sake of growth. It’s about recognizing, honouring and celebrating what makes each one of us, unique.

Poise.

Poise is about self-confidence and composure but also balanced relationships. It values discernment and accountability and cultivates respect, compassion, and empathy - for ourselves, others, and our surroundings.

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LOCATION: ONLINE

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LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
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Ready for something different?

These mindful movement classes are for any age and ability.

Feldenkrais classes may be the best move you will make.

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https://www.boomerangpilates.ca/schedule.html

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Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
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WHEN:
Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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You don't need a large space to dance for this class.

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juliaray@rogers.com

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TO REGISTER: https://www.martharandall.com

LOCATION: ONLINE

Martha Randall began teaching Nia in 1996. One class was all it took to create a resounding ‘Yes!’ in body/mind/spirit connection and start her on her way to complete the Nia Training curriculum – White, Blue, Brown, Black, Green & 1st Degree Black. She became a White Belt trainer in 2002 and Green Belt trainer in 2009 and continues to be inspired by and dedicated to this practice.

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Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

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www.julesthaimassage.com

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Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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THAI YOGA with Jules Lawrence

WHEN:
Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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WHEN:
Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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THAI YOGA with Jules Lawrence

WHEN:
Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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IYENGAR PO YOGA;IGNITE THE SPARK


Sundays at 10:00 am (Ignite the Spark)

Wednesdays at 9:30 am (Restorative & Pranayama)

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
https://online.studiopoyoga.com/calendar

The 3 Po’s

At Studio Po, we are committed to nourishing power, possibility, and poise - individually and collectively.

Power.

Power is about physical strength but also mental, emotional, & spiritual fortitude. It’s about the transformative experience of practice and the joyful nourishment of community.

Possibility.

Possibility is about trying something new but also redefining what is familiar. It’s about the courage to sit with discomfort for the sake of growth. It’s about recognizing, honouring and celebrating what makes each one of us, unique.

Poise.

Poise is about self-confidence and composure but also balanced relationships. It values discernment and accountability and cultivates respect, compassion, and empathy - for ourselves, others, and our surroundings.

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Slow Flow - Tuesdays at 6:00-7:15PM
Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

LOCATION: ONLINE

TO REGISTER:
www.julesthaimassage.com

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WHEN:
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Rest & Restore - Thursdays 7:00-8:15PM

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YOGA/PILATES FUSION


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