Reflections on Ukraine
When I was a little kid growing up in Far Rockaway, Queens, there was a war raging in Europe. As a toddler, of course I was too little to understand the gravity of what was going on. Or was I? Something about Ukraine brought me back some eighty years to a reoccurring scene in my childhood living room. My parents were clustered around a large mahogany radio. They sat silently and listened. Their faces were grim. Sounds of gun fire were audible. The mood was serious and somber. Somehow, I knew this was not a movie. Yesterday, my daughter called. “Mom,“ she said. “I can’t believe we are watching a war on television.” That is when I remembered watching a war on the radio.
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