Posts Tagged ‘concentration camp’

Charles Winecoff

A-holes and Insects – or Mother Nature Doesn’t Care If You’re a Good Liberal

by Charles Winecoff

Decades before George Clooney began using “Darfur” to swat away the unfashionable nuisance of “Iraq,” the hollow eyes and distended stomachs of starving Biafran children gave America’s impressionable “me generation” a reality check during commercial breaks.  Parents shook their heads and wrote checks.  “We have so much,” went the refrain.  “The world is so unfair.”

My pretty fourth-grade teacher, who taught us everything from math and history to a dash of entomology (study of insects), didn’t think so.  One day, unprompted, she told her class of 10-year-olds that she wasn’t really concerned about the Biafran babies because mass starvation was just nature’s way of controlling overpopulation.  (My parents were mortified.)


Margaret Sanger

Hard to fathom how, less than three decades after the Holocaust, any educated person could harbor such cold acceptance of the cruel suffering of fellow human beings - much less voice it (and to children, no less).  But whoever said the human race is on a one-way path to progress?

It’s widely assumed that, in every moment we’re alive, we’ve reached a new pinnacle – of modernity, experience, knowledge, enlightenment – that we always move forward, never back.  But what if we don’t?  What if we’re fated to make the same mistakes (disguised with innocuous new names) over and over again? (more…)

Charles Winecoff

Confessions of a Recovering Anti-Semite

by Charles Winecoff

Whenever someone asks me if I’m religious, I always say I’m Jewish by osmosis.  Back in Manhattan, my mother was known to order in Chinese food seven nights a week - even for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner.  For an Anglo-centric WASP worshipper who idolized Jackie O, she was very Mama Rose.

But there was always that awkward moment when she had to give the Chinese restaurant our name over the phone: “Winecoff.  W-I-N-E-C-O-F-F.  And it’s not Jewish.”


Orson Welles “The Stranger”

People usually just assumed we were Jewish.  Sometimes they even refused to believe it when we said we weren’t – “Oh, come on.  You’re kidding, right?” – which made me mad.  But this was New York City, and we were surrounded, outnumbered.

We were supposed to be Episcopalian – or as my mom occasionally put it, Protestant.  I had no idea what that meant.  We never “protested” anything.  We never took communion at the landmark church we went to now and then.  My mother, who was really more of a frustrated pagan, thought the symbolic eating the body/drinking the blood of Christ was akin to cannibalism. (more…)