Michael Stands Up For His Racial Heritage and Humanity As Well
Some of my stories about Michael are not pretty. In fact, for 11 years he had few pleasant stories to bring home with him. He was seeing what people are capable of doing to each other when they lose their homes, sometimes their children, through the forces of nature.
Everybody remembers Hurricane Katrina. Michael went south to act as a medic–he had his EMT license at the time–with the Red Cross. Red Cross volunteers are allowed to stay for three weeks maximum before they must leave a disaster scene.
I was happy about this, as any parent will understand. Three weeks dealing with the situation in the south was quite enough, thank you very much!
Michael was given a tent, a table, penicillin, and very basic medical supplies, such as thread to sew up wounds. It was a bit like “MASH,” except that Michael had a lot less to work with than those medical TV heroes. He was paired up with an African-American nurse from Chicago who came to volunteer.
One day a man stumbled into the tent; he was a southern man, half out of his senses, disoriented. This does not make up for what follows.
He had a huge gash across his chest and was bleeding heavily. The nurse approached him. This wounded man recoiled and said that “no n****r woman is gonna touch me!”
Michael took the man by his collar, practically lifted him off his feet, then pushed him up against the table. He said: “Would a Jew be OK with you? Now. You are going to let this lady sew up your wound or you can bleed to death for all I care.” The hurt man quietly allowed the nurse to clean and then sew up the chest wound.
Did we cry upon hearing this? Oh yes. Were we miserable about this state of affairs? Yes to that also. Were we proud of our son? All I can say is that I felt my grandfather somewhere, crying along with us, proud that his great-grandson was not afraid to stand up for all Jews and all people.
lgmwriting 