War and fate seem to work in tandem, and for me it happened during World War II. I was a divorcee with a two-year old daughter, trying to keep body and soul together. Circumstances forced me to move back in with my parents and start looking for a job. It was at this time of my life that I got a invitation to go on a blind date with a a GI who was on a two day pass before shipping overseas to Nazi controlled Europe.
All the other guys had dates except Max, so another GI friend told him to call Ethel Kurzfeld to see if she would accept one. My response, a strong rejection of “I don’t go out on blind dates,” stimulated his insistence and succeeded in changing my mind, never realizing how this one decision would change both our lives. If at first you do not succeed, try –try – try again and he did. The next time he called I was not home so he left a message with my mother telling her he would be by at 5:30 to pick me up. I have no idea to this day what made me eventually say yes, instead of throwing him out but I did not and we had a lovely time.
As it turned out the ship he was to take him to Europe sank on its way back to the United States sank and his one-day pass turned into three days and our one day blind date turned into several. When a new ship came to take him to the war, I never expected to hear from him again but I was wrong. Before he even arrived in Europe, I received a letter from him:
Dear Ethel: When I return if we still feel the same way I will ask you to marry me. Love, Max.
He returned eleven months later, asked me that very question, and our wedding was the beginning of a 47-year successful, creative, productive marriage. Max and my daughter Gail responded to him just as I had and their relationship was another kind of love affair.
During our marriage, Max wrote five books, his first one, JEWS, GOD AND HISTORY, became a classic, selling over millions of copies. I helped edit and typed the manuscript at least 20 times which is why it was error proof when it was purchased. The popularity of this book led to invitations to meet heads of state in Europe and the newly formed Jewish country of Israel where we met personally David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first Prime Minister, Martin Buber, the internationally recognized philosopher, and Menahim Begin, who is most noted for signing a peace treaty with Egypt in 1979. Max was invited to lecture at the Weizmann Institute, a high honor.
Along with the four or five trips to Israel, I travelled whenever he was invited to Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Norway, Denmark, Holland, Germany, and the United States. Travelling helped us get the feel for different areas where we found ourselves collecting local art. The walls of our home were not only lined with art work, but kept our memories alive about where we obtained them.
Max died in 1992 from a heart condition. Losing him made it difficult to read the notes he had been accumulating about his life over the years. Finally the day came when I felt strong enough to read his personal comments about himself. Imagine my surprise when I read:
“It only took three dates with Ethel, a NJG (nice Jewish girl) to know she was the one. It must have been destiny because it was about this time I too was becoming subtly aware of my need for a basic change, but unable to know how or what to do to make it happen. One date told me I would marry her if she would have me, never allowing myself the luxury of hoping she too might feel the same way.”
We both needed each other. Had he known I would have said yes if he had asked me before he left for Europe, he would have. It is of no matter. There is no way to paraphrase the rich full life we had together. Forty seven years was not long enough to know the full Max, there was so much to learn about him.
Today, at the age of 92, I have been without Max for 17 years. I am thankful for the memories I have of them because they help soften being alone. Without them life would be less lighthearted.
Who would have known that by accepting a blind date fate would orchestrate such a fruitful and wonderful life.
