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Now For The Whole Story
“ FINISHED ”
siast will readily recognize the dive
known as the half gainer and the wres-
tling hold called the half nelson. Yes,
there are full gainers and full nelsons
and they each require specific approach-
es. Those who race will have specific
knowledge of the half-mile. Who can
deny the wonderful shows that may be
seen during halftime (unless overtime
is involved and then you may be half-
asleep).
Be cautious with someone who does
not think things out fully and may wish
to have you join in a scheme that is
easily noted as half-baked. He may go
off half-cocked and may prove to be a
half-wit. Though the offer may involve
something at half-price, you’ll get
sucked in if you are only half-hearted,
so beware.
The next time you spot a half-track
doing work in your yard, get out your
half-glasses, read over the contract you
signed and make sure that the space
being dug out for your new half bath is
where you intended and will not be part
of a half-rate job.
Be alert to the entreaty at your place
of employment to work faster. The
implication may be that your work of
late has been only half-fast or some-
thing that sounds like that.
Colored Stones, YG
W
e have all been cautioned
not to do anything halfway.
But if doing anything by
half is so negative, give attention to the
importance of half in our conversations;
we are falling short quite often.
Items can be mea-
sured by half and this
is not bad; sometimes
we do not need a
whole entity. Consider
the half-cup, the half-
dozen, the half-gallon
and the half dollar.
OK, with the latter the
Sy Manello
whole would be better,
Editorial
but let’s take what we
Assistant
can get.
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I
n the 1980s, I had the chance to drive
Elie Wiesel from a talk at the University
of Michigan to a small college an hour
away where he was also speaking. By then,
I had been interviewing and writing about
Holocaust survivors for a decade. The
chance to have a private hour with Elie
Wiesel was an enormous opportunity.
My car at that time was a white Honda
wagon that had more
rust than paint. It was
not suitable for Elie
Wiesel. It was barely
suitable at all.
I called a girlfriend
who had a large
Mustang convertible. I
thought that was a good
Henry
choice. She let me bor-
Greenspan
row it for the occasion.
I met Elie at the rear
door of the Rackham auditorium where he
had spoken. I had been so nervous antici-
pating our ride that I had no memory of
anything he said. But I had a supply of
questions — deep, existential, quintessen-
tial questions — that I had been saving up
after reading and rereading him for years.
I thought I was ready.
I was not. He seemed to approve of the
car, which was good. But immediately
after I turned the key, I lost all sense of
direction. I had known the route well,
but it vanished. I had no idea what road I
should take to get to the highway to get to
the small college.
Luckily, I still had the presence of mind
to realize that if I kept mak-
his “down time.” It was not
ing left turns we would not
Ultimacy Hour.
get entirely lost. And so left,
And so I learned that
left, left, left. I put us into
Elie Wiesel was a funny,
orbit around the Rackham
charming, far-from-always-
Building. After the fifth
ultimate kind of guy. We
time we passed the same
talked about weather and
bus stop, Elie turned to me
football and Michigan stuff
Elie Wiesel, who died ear-
and smiled. He had the
(which was still exotic to me
lier this month at the age
kindness not to ask if I was
as a native New Yorker). We
of 87.
lost. The smile was query
shared teaching stories. We
enough.
relaxed. We shmoozed. He was no longer
Summoning my remaining courage, I
Night incarnate.
fired the retro rockets. We broke out of
After what is now 40 years of teach-
orbit, heading in a direction in which I
ing and writing about survivors and the
had only wistful confidence. It seemed
Holocaust, I tell this story to my students
a better gamble than another circle to
before survivors visit our class. Even the
nowhere.
most outgoing among them tend to go
Whether reflecting luck or surviving
quiet in the presence of an “actual survi-
instinct, my guess was right. We were
vor”— even a not-famous one.
on the road that led to the highway that
Elie and I became something between
would lead to the small college — the
acquaintances and friends — which is why
name of which I
had entirely for-
gotten beyond St.
Something.
I had also forgotten
the deep, existential,
quintessential ques-
tions that I had hoped
to discuss during
our drive. Fragments
remained, but Elie
seemed a bit tired —
perhaps of my anxi-
ety — and I realized
that this was, indeed,
continued on page 8
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July 14 • 2016
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