It’s amazing how little moments in the middle of the day can surprise us and alter the way we look at the world.  I am a guy who needs his snacks in the mid-afternoon. . . usually a cup of turkey chili from Einstein’s (that’s a snack, you ask?  Yes, that’s a snack!)  But there was a big line and I had no time to wait before it was time for another lesson, so I rounded the corner to visit the vending machines and decided to buy a bag of Snyder’s Pretzels – as snacks go, a fairly benign choice for someone trying to lose weight.  (235 and counting, by the way.)  So I feed in my dollar bill, press C3 . . . and watch as the little corkscrew apparatus slowly rotates, so it might drop the last bag of pretzels. .  . I said drop the last bag of pretzels!   But no, the bag in question had other ideas and refused to fall.   There it hung, as though stubbornly clinging to life.  I glanced over at the lounge to see if any faculty colleagues were lurking, but saw only students- so I turned back to the machine, grabbed it as though firmly grabbing someone by the shoulders,  and gave it a titanic shake.  Neither the machine itself nor the bag of pretzels would budge- not one little quiver.   So I did the only thing I could think of- I put in another dollar, watched the thing rotate, watched my now TWO-dollar bag of pretzels fall obediently to the bottom tray, and retrieved it with a sour sense of “how come the world has to throw wrenches right into the middle of a previously lovely day?”

And then,  just as I was about to stomp away,  I found myself looking at the machine and looking at all of the items available. . . most of it terrible for you but most of it delicious and relatively inexpensive. . .   and then for some reason, I thought of the interview which had aired earlier in the day on the Morning Show.  It was with a guy named Nate Taffel  who was born and raised in Poland and now lives in Mequon, WI – but whose life history includes time in five different concentration camps – and who was on a march towards Dachau when he was finally liberated by the invading allies.  I had recorded the interview with him last Thursday, and it really haunted me that night and all the next day – – – and even for some of the weekend.  But I guess by Monday afternoon other pressing matters like snacks and uncooperative vending machines had crowded Mr. Taffel’s story aside.   And what brought it right back to the center of my mind was realizing how absurd it was for me to feel deprived that I’d lost a dollar in a vending machine…  as though it were some sort of mild, modern day version of Suffering.  If you want to know what real suffering is, you need to hear the story of Nate Taffel – who, amazingly,  despite being torn from his home- torn from his parents (without even getting to say goodbye to them)- and subjected to all manner of degradation and deprivation for five years- – – is one of the lucky ones.

He was a young teen in the camps – 17 years old when he was liberated – and for many years he did not share his story, even with his family except on very rare occasions.  But when it came to his attention that adult survivors of the Holocaust are now almost all gone, he decided that he needed to begin speaking out.  (In a sense, it’s especially essential because Holocaust survivors much younger than him probably have very few clear memories of the nightmare.  He is part of the last group of survivors who are in a position to tell the story with full clarity.   So he speaks to groups= kids especially –  and he said at the interview that what keeps him going is the letters he receives from children and teachers “and nuns” . . . appreciative letters which make him cry.  And he says that’s what keeps him going-  and that he’ll keep telling his story “as long as I can talk.”

I am done complaining about vending machines. . .  if not forever,  I hope for a very very very long time.