Unfinished Business: One night at dinner a man, who had spent many summers in Maine, fascinated his companions by telling of his experiences in a little town named Flagstaff. The town was to be flooded, as part of a large lake for which a dam was being built. In the months before it was to be flooded, all improvements and repairs in the whole town were stopped. What was the use of painting a house if it were to be covered with water in six months? Why repair anything when the whole village was to be wiped out? So, week by week, the whole town became more and more bedraggled, more gone to seed, more woebegone.
For a while he and his father shared a barrack.
In spite of the unspeakable horror, oppression and hardship, many Jews held onto what scraps of Jewish religious observance they could.
One year, the inmates became aware of the fact that it was the first night of Hanukkah, the festival of lights, and Hugo’s father constructed a little Hanukkah menorah out of scrap metal.
For a wick, he took some threads from his prison uniform and for oil, he had saved up some of the meagre rations of margarine.
Hugo’s father secretly gathered little Hugo and others to celebrate this first night of Hanukkah and light the candles.
On streets where Jews live around the world, there is a display in windows or on doorsteps that is at once familiar and glorious. It is the Hanukkah menorah, celebrating a holiday that began at sundown Thursday.