When the Second World War ended, I mean we were extremely optimistic.

That was still even before we heard terrible things that happened in the camps.

But we thought that mankind had suffered so much

that they would understand that war was not the answer.

We had lived to see miracles happen on the sea.

And you know you were with me.

When I'm standing there at the beach, looking at that water,

I see myself on the button of that see and I think of these thousands of people who try to come over the Mediterranean today and who are at the bottom of the sea.

And it is a shame upon our time that we let this catastrophe happen.

I don't know how that should be forgiven.

In most ways, my grandmother lived in ordinary life. She had three kids, divorced once, married twice.

She was a custodian, then a nurse, then a teacher. When her kids graduated high school she rented out their rooms for

extra income. She swam in any water she could no matter how cold and she ate fire.

She'd do this magic trick or she'd take a match or a birthday candle,

light it, and then stick the flame in her mouth to put it out.

As a grandmother... flame in her mouth to put it out.

As a grandmother, she let all us grandchildren make her these disgusting concoctions that

she would promise to drink.

Turkey fat, milk, hot sauce, orange juice, juice of herring, we pour it all in.

Then we'd run over to her, drop a little garnish on top, and in front of all our parents,

present her with our cocktail.

She take the glass and chug it, the whole thing, then hand it back,

...