Autumnal Reflections

I wandered into the Pawtucket Tax Assessor’s office because I’d been told that they will tell you the history of your house. “Sure,” said the nice lady. “What’s your address?” I told her and she looked something up in one book and then went to another and within minutes she had the page with the ownership record of my home.

I knew we’d bought the house from Betsy Joslin, a widow, shortly before her re-marriage, and once I’d met a man named Rosenfield who’d sold it to the Joslins, but I’d buried that information somewhere deep in my shallow sub-conscience. But now, looking at the list of owners of Lot 547, Plat 66 dating back to 1914, it suddenly hit me that there are an awful lot of people who also said, “this is my home” as they entered my front door and slept in my bedroom, cooked their meals in my kitchen, ate those meals in my breakfast room. I knew that the Joslins had two children who I imagine played and whooped and screamed as they tore through the house, as did mine, but how many other children have there been who felt that the walls that protect my family, protected them? Did Rosenfield (1963-1970) have children sleeping in my sons’ rooms? Or Sherlee Gershman (1954-1963) or Samuel and Edna Orenstein (1952-1954) or Esther Halpert (1941-1952)? Who was Frederick R. Marquis, Jr (1938-1941)? Is he still alive, did he love this house the way we do? Why was he only here for three years? Or Thomas and Muriel Mitchell (1929-1938)? Did they have children who played in the same backyard ours did? Were they the ones who switched from coal to oil, and who was it who then switched from oil to gas? Conrad Paris lived in my house from 1925-1929. Was he forced to sell by the coming of the Great Depression, or had he seen the house as a starter home? In 1924 there were two owners, and I don’t know why. Rosalun C. O’Brien sold to Thomas and Catherine Gill, but why did Thomas Gill buy the house when he (or someone who had the same name) owned it in 1918—or was it a house in 1918, or just an empty lot waiting to be developed? I don’t know. Gill bought the house (or the lot) from the Oak Hill Lawn Company who had bought it in 1916 from M. Jenckes and E. H. Thornton (if I decipher the handwriting correctly) who were the first listed owners, in 1914.

Sometimes, not often, I think I see a shadow, or sometimes a flash of light, or hear a peep of sound and then it’s gone and I wonder if the shade of a previous owner ever comes back to check on us, and then I remind myself that I’m an enlightened rationalist. Still, I wonder who these people were? Who will be the next people, and the next who won’t even know of our existence, of our joys and sorrows, of what we did to improve the house they will think of as theirs? We’ve had the house the longest, since October 1977, but I know we are really only caretakers.

I’d gone to City Hall to get a dog license for Emma who has lived with us for a year and a half. She knows nothing of Morgan whose home this was for ten years and she had no idea that Wordsworth had lived here for 17 ½ years. Wordsworth had no inkling that he was dog number two, that Jonathan had been first. In time no one will know of any of those animals who gave us such joy.

At the university where I’ve been on faculty since 1969 people who have been teaching for decades retire, and then in four years, no student on campus remembers them. Only we somewhat younger old geezers recall the ancient days, the long gone people. Someday, I suppose nobody will know I was there either, just as nobody knew until I went to the Pawtucket tax assessor’s office that while I was a kid growing up in Brooklyn, Sherlee Gershman lived my house, thinking it hers. Who were her friends? Who came to visit? Why did she sell? And what of those shadows caught in the corner of my eye, that vague flash of light, that peep of a sound?

A lesson from History

The ancient Roman historian Titus Livius (59 BCE – 17 CE) reminds his readers in every age that “in history you have a record of the infinite variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see; and in that record you can find for yourself and your country examples and warnings; fine things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to avoid.”
The ancient Roman philosopher/statesman Cicero (106-43 BCE) tells the story of consul Marcus Atilius Regulus who was taken prisoner by the Carthaginians during the First Punic War. (Consuls were the chief civil and military officers in the Roman Republic. To get an idea of someone with equal status and authority combine General Eisenhower in 1944 with President Eisenhower in 1954.) The Carthaginians thought this provided them a great opportunity—one consul could be exchanged for hundreds of prisoners. So Regulus was sent back to Rome on parole, sworn to return if Carthage’s prisoners of war were not released. He came to the senate and stated his mission; but he then advised against the deal; for they were young men and officers who would make war on Rome, while he was only one man, already bowed with age. In the end Rome kept the prisoners, and Regulus returned to captivity in Carthage.
What do we learn from this? If nothing else it’s that before the exchange of prisoners the prudent thing is to win the war. Giving back over a thousand Palestinians, a goodly number with Jewish civilian blood on their hands, in exchange for one kidnapped Israeli soldier was inopportune. Doesn’t anyone over there read history? The Regulus story may be in the preserve of a few fussy scholars but ask this—during the First World War, how many prisoners were exchanged (answer: None before the Armistice). During World War II did we send back any Germans, Italians or Japanese in exchange for American POWs? (Hint: “No”.)
I know the rationale. Israel makes a commitment to the families of its conscripts (pretty much all age appropriate Israelis minus those in Yeshivas) to bring them back—alive if possible, if not, at least for burial. I understand. But when are they brought back, that’s the question. Three years ago Israel gave up a multiple murderer, Samir Kuntar who in 1979 killed a police officer then took a 28-year-old man and his 4-year-old daughter hostage. He shot the father dead in front of his little girl and then smashed her head in, killing her. Kuntar was sentenced to 542 years in prison. But in 2008 Israel arranged a swap. It received the cadavers of 1st Sgt. Ehud "Udi" Goldwasser and Sgt. 1st Class Eldad Regev in exchange for this sadistic murder who upon his return to Lebanon was hailed as a hero by Hezbollah. And now the returning heroes of Hamas have been greeted in Gaza with cries from the crowd to kidnap more Israelis, to get back more prisoners. Sergeants Goldwasser and Regev were spared what Gilad Shalit may soon suffer. Can you imagine the young man’s anguish when the first of the terrorists released to get him back blows up a pizzeria, or a bus, or a Seder, or a pedestrian mall?
Israel prides itself on the return of conscripts but has forgotten the other part of the social contract, the part that says we will protect the civilians of Israel from terrorists. Israel, any government, must remember to do no harm to its population. It’s bad enough that despite seeking peace Israel has been in a state of perpetual war for its entire existence; it’s worse that it gives enemies fresh soldiers to make war on it. Hamas is strengthened; Israel has handed it potentially returning terrorists or if not them, has encouraged another generation to take the risk. After all, if they are captured before or after their assaults on civilians, all they have to do is wait a few years in jail and then come home to a hero’s welcome.
This edition of the Jewish Voce & Herald is due out on November 11, 2011, 11/11/11 for you numerologists. On November 11, 1918 at 11:00 AM, the First World War came to an end and then prisoners were exchanged, no longer a danger to the countries that had held them in captivity. I’m glad that Shalit is home, but the price was too high. Wait until after victory. Remember the lesson of Regulus, that honorable man.