by Herbert Munshine (Great Neck, NY)
It’s too late now, far too late. Both my parents and
both my sisters are gone. My wellspring of family
knowledge has faded into the mysteries of history.
I was smart with books and sports, but I am ignorant
of my own history, full of regrets and a desire to know
but missing the precious resources that would have
filled the holes, the chasms in my consciousness.
When did they arrive in the U. S.? Why did they leave
Poland and Latvia? What was life there like for Jews?
How did they meet? Was the meeting accidental,
spontaneous, arranged? How long did they date before
he proposed? Where did they get married? How long
were they married before she had my older sister?
What did he help build as a carpenter (besides the
Museum of the City of New York?). What was her
favorite color? Flower? Song? Pre-TV radio show?
Which members of my family were lost during the
Holocaust? During the pogroms? Did any of them
make the Aliyah to Israel? Who were my living relatives?
Where did they live? What did they do? Why were we
and they so distant?
Why did she have me 10 years after my second sister?
Was she happy when I was born? Did she feel too old
to care for a baby again? Is it true that she almost
aborted me but changed her mind literally at the final
moment?
Then there are the closer queries to my toddler self:
What did her voice sound like? What did her touch
feel like? Her scent? Her presence? Beliefs: Did she
light Shabbas candles? Did he attend synagogue
regularly when he was much younger and she was
still a vital presence in our lives? Afterthoughts:
What was his favorite opera? Why did he switch from
being a builder to owning a store? The ethereal gems:
What would they feel about the man I have become,
the woman I married, the children and grandchildren
I had – – – and how little my progeny know about them?
One final question: Why did I wait too late to ask?
Herbert Munshine grew up in the Bronx and graduated from C.C.N.Y. with both a B.S. in Education and a Master’s Degree in English. You can find his baseball poetry on Baseball Bard where he has had more than 160 poems published, and where he was recently inducted into that site’s Hall of Fame. He lives with his wife in Great Neck, NY.
The Jewish Writing Project 
Reading this as a mountain traveler, the poem’s pain of lost family and unanswered questions really hits home. On Everest treks, you see the cost—the climbers who never return, the families left behind. It’s a harsh reminder that behind every mountain, there are real lives, stories, and regrets that we should never forget.