The second thing I learned had to do with Eric Schindler, some facts about him and his family that he probably would have preferred kept hidden. As I mentioned a while back, I was invited to a wedding in Jerusalem. That event took place at the end of October, not long after Eric had come to visit me with news that the Bukh we were all so desperately seeking had been destroyed by Maria.
The person getting married was a very distant cousin on my mother’s side. I’d never been to Israel before and used the wedding as an excuse to travel there, but it was a quick trip, just a few days, and I didn’t have the wild experiences I’d had in Romania, such as encountering a dublura and being stared at wherever I went. Instead, I was one of many guests at a rooftop wedding that overlooked the city of Jerusalem.
I was traveling with my husband, a daughter and cousin, and all of us were upset we didn’t have more time to explore the country, but it is what it is.
Despite bad press, I felt completely at home and safe in Israel, far safer than in the US with its gun violence and increasing number of mass shootings.
And safer than in my own life in Austin where for months I’d felt as if I was being watched and followed.
But enough of that. Let me get back to the wedding and its many guests, one of whom had the key to the puzzle of where exactly Eric Schindler fit in the story of A Secret Grave.