Merle R. Saferstein's Blog

Searching for Treasures

When I arrived at the beach this morning, I noticed a man walking toward the Broadwalk wearing a hat with a light shining down on the sand and gently but purposefully swinging a metal detector with his right arm. He stopped, stooped down, scooped up something, carefully examined it, tossed it back onto the beach, and moved on. I began to think about his possible motives and what it was he might be hoping to find.

Maybe he was out there anticipating the thrill of an adventure. Perhaps he was hoping to gather enough coins for a cup of coffee, or maybe he was in search of a buried treasure. I stood watching him for a moment and then made my way down to the shore.

Unlike most mornings, the ocean was lined with an unusual number of boats of all sizes. Red and white flags bobbed along the sea signaling divers below. At first I was surprised to see so much activity on the ocean, well before the sun had even risen. As I passed someone carrying a bag with two large lobsters, it occurred to me why they were all out there. Today begins the short, two-day mini-lobster season in Florida. People were hunting for their dinner. Because the still sea resembled a gigantic bathtub, I imagine that they were having no trouble locating their delectable treasures.

With my head bent, I meandered down the deserted shore in a meditative state, collecting jewels from the sea. There is little I enjoy more than ambling along the sand with my toes in the surf searching for shells. Because the waters were calm and the tide was low, looking for my favorite treasures was at its best.

At some point, I realized that I was softly singing “Eli, Eli,” a song written by Hannah Szenes, a Hungarian who parachuted into Yugoslavia during World War II to assist in the rescue of Hungarian Jews who were about to be deported to Auschwitz. This song, a prayer hoping that the sand and the sea and the rush of the water never ends, has been a favorite of mine since I first heard it many decades ago. Inevitably when I hear or sing it, I am reminded of the many wonderful, natural treasures that surround me in my life. Luckily, I don’t have to go far to find them.

Full Circle

FULL CIRCLE

In the mid ‘80s, I began working at the Holocaust Documentation and Education Center. For all the years that I was the director of educational outreach at the Center, I was immersed in helping survivors pass along their legacies of remembrance to students of all ages–from elementary school through college. The work was especially meaningful because it was an important reminder to everyone about the danger of prejudice and how, in fact, it can lead to genocide.

The Center was located on Florida International University’s Biscayne Bay Campus for many years. During that time, I would go down by the bay on my lunch hour and would write in my journal. On October 8, 1988, I wrote the following: One of my goals is to become a published author. I hope that at some point it will come true.

Yesterday, as I drove down the long entry way to FIU to participate in the Southeast Florida Librarians Information Network Conference (SEFLIN), I had a flashback of those many years ago when I was working on that campus and was filling my journals with my thoughts, feelings, and dreams. Besides wanting to be an author, I also hoped that one day in the future I would have the opportunity to speak on college campuses.

When I walked into the Cal Kovens Conference Center yesterday, all kinds of memories immediately came flooding back to me. I remembered the numerous prejudice reduction programs entitled Student Awareness Days that we held there where Holocaust survivors sat at tables with ten university students and had the opportunity to share with them their painful experiences during the Holocaust. I thought about the Task Force meeting with the then Commissioner of Education, Frank Brogan, when we presented him with the State of Florida Resource Manual on Holocaust Education. That thrilling moment in the Center’s history had taken place in the very same room where, in just a few hours, I would be speaking. I recalled the meeting we held for Holocaust survivors with the Florida Commissioner of Insurance to discuss the possibility of them obtaining home health care through reparation monies.

All that happened many years ago and while those vivid memories remain, my life has moved forward to the next chapter. At the 1:15 breakout session of the conference, I gave a presentation on Authoring, Self-Publishing, and What Comes After to a room filled with librarians. As the person who introduced me began to bring in more chairs for the overflowing crowd, I couldn’t help but smile. My dream was coming true right in that moment! My life had come full circle and in all this time, I never had lost sight of my vision. I am now the published author I had one day hoped I would be speaking on the same college campus where those dreams first came down on the pages of my journal.

The Project of a Lifetime: My Journals

Since completing the writing and publishing of Room 732, people often ask me what I will write next. At first, I thought I might jump right in and get started on another book. I have the concept for it all ready to go. In fact, it has been percolating for years.

Then one day two weeks ago as I was walking along the beach, it occurred to me that I want to work on my writing project, which I began eight years ago but put on hold to write Room 732. My thoughts immediately began to drift off to my journals. I knew that that’s where my attention needed to be focused.

Aside from the diaries which I kept as a teenager and which accidentally were thrown out in a move long ago, I had not written in journals until 1974. Ever since I started again, I haven’t stopped.

In 1986, I began to question why I was filling journals at such a rapid pace, what I would do with them someday, and what my journal writing meant. No matter how much I pondered these questions, I steadily continued to commit my thoughts, feelings, and experiences onto the blank pages of one journal after another.

As I approached turning fifty, I decided to go back and read some of my journals. I left home for three months, rented a studio apartment on Hollywood Beach, and began to review my life as I extracted excerpts from about thirty-two volumes. These ended up compiled into a book entitled A Necklace of Pearls, which I shared with others but never published.

On my sixtieth birthday in my 298th journal, I wrote the following: I want to tackle my journal project again and make it a priority. It’s something that looms ahead and will until I make a concerted effort to get started. I think the reason I haven’t is because it feels overwhelming. By doing it, though, I will gain insight and wisdom as well as a perspective on my life that I might not have had before.

I thought I would start this project at the age of sixty-five, but since it is so huge, I shouldn’t wait to get started–and so I will begin. My journals are my life’s work.

I worked steadily at this for the next seven years, taking excerpts in approximately fifty different topics, such as parenting, marriage, the beach, spirituality, work, people I know, who I am, etc. I completed culling through 190 volumes and stopped when I began writing Room 732.

I have now resumed this daunting project knowing that there are approximately 160 journals left to read. As I sit here revisiting my life, I am struck by the tremendous amount I have committed to paper and the incredible gift I have given myself by doing so.

Synchronicity plays a huge role in all of this. Just last week, I picked up a volume that I had written many years ago when my close friend had gone to Vanderbilt for a bone marrow transplant. I spent four days at her bedside while she was recuperating from this difficult procedure which she hoped would save her life. While she slept on and off, I wrote and finished an entire journal.

Unfortunately, months later she passed away. I am left with a detailed record of our meaningful and intense conversations as well as my thoughts and feelings during those days at her bedside. They came flooding back as I read the pages in that journal.

The day after I finished taking excerpts from that volume, I called Temple Sinai, my synagogue, to reserve a room for my next “Living and Leaving Your Legacy” class that I plan to teach in the fall. As I was talking to Susan, the temple administrator, she mentioned that she had just received a letter from someone referring to the bone marrow screening the synagogue had done a few years ago. She explained that while it didn’t end up saving the life of the man for whom they were hoping to find a matching donor, just last week a match from the screening had been found for an eight-month-old child. Chills ran through my body at that news.

Susan told me that they are planning to organize another bone marrow screening in the fall. She then asked if I would be willing to help. It was one of those serendipitous moments. What were the chances that I would have just experienced remembering back to my dear friend and her bone marrow transplant? How could I say no?

It is times like this one when I know that taking excerpts from my journals is exactly what I need to be doing. Where it will take me is unknown in this moment. Yet, while I’m clear that I wrote these journals for me alone, what I know now is that someday in some form, they will be my legacy for my loved ones.

Sedona Serendipity

Sometimes in life we have to forego plans and be open to the magic that waits us around the bend. For many years, Sedona has been on my bucket list of places to visit. Its spiritual mystique has always intrigued me, so when I arrived there earlier last week and saw the red rock formations, I immediately was filled with wonder and awe. Of course, meeting my daughter Rebecca from Atlanta, my close friend Lois from San Diego, and her daughter Lauren from Chicago fueled my excitement.

We all had our hearts set on a weekend of adventure: a hot air balloon ride over the red rocks, a scenic drive to the Grand Canyon, and a guided yoga hike through the picturesque mountains. When we began the trip, the magnificent blue skies and sunny, warm weather was perfect for hiking. However, after two days, a rainstorm moved in, followed by a dropping of temperatures and snow. The universe had a different plan for us.

With the unseasonably cold weather, the four of us decided to enjoy an hour in the hot tub. The man next to me and I began to talk, and it wasn’t long before my book, Room 732, came up. I learned that he was in the printing business in Pennsylvania, which took us to Lauren’s fiancé’s specialty paper company in Chicago. We were all astounded when the man told us that his company bought all of his paper from them!

The magic continued the next night when we ate dinner at Cucina Rustica Dahl and DiLuca, a wonderful Italian restaurant. As we were leaving, Rebecca spotted a woman sitting at the bar reading. Her intention, she later admitted, was to tell the lady about Room 732. Within a short time, we were all engaged in conversation with Marilyn, the woman who had been a stranger just minutes before.

The day after, while shopping in the rain in downtown Sedona, we stopped at a Starbucks. Sitting at a table was our new friend Marilyn, whom we had met the night before. When she saw me, she flagged me over and immediately began to share with me about her dream to someday write a book.

Later, we went into the Hike House to check out their hiking gear. As soon as we walked in, the salesman remarked about the nasty weather and how it reminded him of Atlanta, where he was raised. I told him that that’s where my daughter lives. A woman standing near us piped in and said she grew up there but now lived in Detroit. Lois then joined in and said that she grew up in Detroit, and so it went.

While the others shopped, Debra, the woman from Detroit, and I began to talk. Within minutes, I learned that she had written two books. That led us to talk about our writing and publishing. We quickly discovered an amazing number of commonalities and shared interests. By the time we left the store, I had made a new friend. As we exchanged email addresses and said our goodbyes, Debra quietly said, “Sedona serendipity.”

Days later as I sit on the plane heading home, I’m left with the wonder of it all – feeling tremendous gratitude that while the best of plans can sometimes go awry, oftentimes they lead to new, meaningful opportunities. By opening ourselves up to the magic of possibility, we often find a connection to others in ways we never before dreamed possible.

Honoring Martin Luther King

January 20, 2013

This morning when I was reading the newspaper, I was struck by an article about Martin Luther King, Jr. Several South Florida residents recalled the moments when they had the good fortune to meet Dr. King or to hear him give his “I Have a Dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Not all that long ago during the ‘60s, we were a nation which was divided – a country where some were not permitted the same rights as others because of the color of their skin.

When I was doing research for my book, Room 732, I was reminded of the many prejudices that existed throughout the years. When the Hollywood Beach Hotel was first built in 1926, Jews were not permitted to stay there. During World War II, “Negroes” could wait on the sailors but were not allowed to join the ranks. Up until the ‘60s, Blacks and whites often had to drink from separate public drinking fountains and enter different doors in some restaurants. As late as the ‘70s, our country was still debating about the issue of the Equal Rights Amendment, which never did pass.

Fortunately, much has changed, but much still remains the same. People continue to be discriminated against because of skin color, race, religion, gender, age, sexual preference, and countless other categories.

As we commemorate Martin Luther King Day, it is my hope that we as a nation will put down our guns and hatred of others different from us and instead embrace Dr. King’s message of non-violence. Please let’s join together to honor his legacy and recommit to keeping his dream alive.

Let the Conversation Begin

December 24, 2012

Last Friday at 5:00 a.m., I received notification that Room 732 was ready to be submitted for publication. The moment I had been waiting for had finally arrived! My baby was making its way out into the world.

Immediately, a sense of excitement washed over me. The edits and back-and-forth dealings with the publisher were over. My book was suddenly out of my hands and was now ready for its own adventure. Where it will take me is unknown at this point, but I intend to go along for the ride.

That morning as I walked along the beach while the sun was rising over the ocean, I thought about the journey so far. Almost eleven months ago to the day, I had put my first thoughts down on paper. While I felt sure that the book would be a series of eight short stories about individuals who stayed at the Hollywood Beach Hotel over a span of many decades, I knew little else. I had no idea how the book would take shape. In fact, just days later, I sat wondering if I would ever be able to write a complete story, let alone eight of them.

Through the process of writing Room 732, I came to understand that there is no forcing the creative spirit. There were moments when I would sit and try to will myself to write – to think of a plot – to imagine the characters. That never worked. What I learned was that when I least expected it, an idea would come to me – mostly as I walked along the beach searching for the perfect shells or gazing out at the vast ocean.

When a thought was sparked, I would take out my small notepad and pen and record it for fear of otherwise losing it before I arrived home. Always I was reminded that there is a creative flow that must be honored and acknowledged.

Looking back on the creation of Room 732, I am reminded of my original intention for writing this book. For years, I have wanted to write something that would lead to a connection with others. I am now hopeful that as people read my book, something in it will resonate with them. I am looking forward to hearing just what that is. Let the conversation begin!

Waiting, Dreaming, and Anticipating

Sometimes waiting for my book to be published reminds me a little of how I felt when I was pregnant with my first child. I was filled with eager anticipation, and yet, at the same time, I was fearful of the unknown. Lots of questions and concerns swirled around in my mind. I wondered what it would be like to give birth and to have a child. Many times I would catch myself daydreaming about my new role and tried to imagine in what ways my life would change.

These days I find myself with many of the same thoughts. My book will soon be released. Up until now, I could count on my hands the number of people who have read Room 732. Soon it will be out there; my baby will no longer be sheltered. Instead, I will officially be an author with a published book. My thoughts and words will be at the mercy of my readers.

I’ve paid close attention to those of my family and friends who have emerged into the public with their published books. Still until it is my turn, I don’t know how I will feel. I only know that I am excited to share my creation and am looking forward to the experience of speaking about the process of writing Room 732 as well as the many topics that are woven throughout the book.

In the months to come, I plan to take you along on my journey as I venture out into the world as an author.