Monkey Brain

Most of my husband’s ancestors perished in the Holocaust; his grandparents were each the only surviving members of their family. My family history, or what I know of it, is a Nazi’s eugenic dream: protestant, corn fed blue-eyed blonds from Sweden, Germany and the UK.

My aunt recently made a photo book of my paternal family history, rich with stories about the first president of Michigan University, and my great-grandmother, brave enough to risk God knows what to dress up like a boy to be with her husband on a field visit to Syria at the beginning of the 20th century. It makes me sad to know that Josh (and our children) does not have as much of a reach back into his past because much of it was snuffed out by a megalomaniac sociopath intent on wiping out a group of people simply because they existed.

It brings me much pleasure to think of my boy, my ginger-blond boy with deep blue eyes, ski jump nose and 50 percent Ashkenazi Jew blood as a big fuck you to Adolf Hitler. I’m so happy to be expecting another child who would make the Fuhrer roll over in his grave.