Numbers 199,888 and 202,499
By Mike Marino
Before, during and after I had dropped out of school after 7th grade I had various odd jobs to fill the Mikey treasury. I was a paid part time under the table employee at a pancake house, worked at a carwash manning the steam hose and in summer mowed lawns and shoveled snow for neighbors, addition to my chores at home...yep...moving the lawn a large corner lot tract...shoveled snow on said same large tract and of course washed the cars, took out garbage on Wednesdays.

One of houses I shoveled and mowed when I first began when I was 12 or 13 belonged to an older couple by the name of Lahksur. Not sure of the spelling now as I wasn’t then either. Pronounced Luck-Sir. They were the nicest couple you could ever hope to meet. Mrs. L would always have fresh baked cookies or pies she would feed me when done with the job, along with hot cocoa in winter and cold lemonade in the heat of summer.

Mr. L was alway smiling and his love of life was infectious….Mrs. L was a bit on the serious side. I noticed they had what then to me as a kid was a “funny accent”, maybe German or Polish. Something European I was sure.

One day while weeding their garden Mr. L came out to help me and with him that long tall glass of lemonade. As he was digging weeds out I noticed something strange about him. He had numbers tatoo’d on his inner forearm. Being naive and curious I asked about it.

He got very quiet and somber and said something to the effect, “you will know someday,” He got very quiet. That night my parents received a call from Mr. L and went down to see him and Mrs. L a few houses away. Only one other house stood between the two.

Mr. L told them I was curious about the tattoo and didn’t want to tell me about it unless my parents said it was OK. My parents heard the whole story and before that knew both had been in a concentration camp during the war, but never pried.

I found out when sitting in their backyard a few days later when Mr. L laid out the story for me. Both he and Mrs. L were married to different people at the time both were picked up by the Nazi’s in 1942 and both spouses were killed in the gas chambers along with Mr. L’s youngest daughter and son, and Mrs. L’s daughter all of 12 years old.

I knew about the war, but not the camps, my curiosity hadn’t taken me that far yet at my age. I was in near tears after hearing about life in the camps which now I am sure Mr. L tempered for my young ears and mind. Mrs. L had to leave the backyard and go inside as tears were flowing from her...silent tears...painful tears.

I was near speechless and from then on read everything I could about the war and the atrocitie. Playing flashlight tag with my friends was different now. No more did I want to be a German soldier, (we’d switch off, German, GI, etc.)

It also began a lifetime hatred for Nazs, skinheads and those who want to kiss or destroy others over religion or race. How one monster of a man could conduct a symphony of unimaginable horror engulfing the world was beyond comprehension.

Both Mr. and Mrs. L met in the camps and after liberation began to reconstruct their lives and yep...got married and eventually had children together and they all resettled in the United States where Mr. L who was an engineer in Poland as the war began furthered his studies and went to work at Ford Motor Company as an electrical engineer for auto systems.

Now that I knew the story, I’d still have my baked goods and lemonade with them but I was quieter now. Noticeably. They treated me like a son and spoiled me at Christmas (I also that year found out what Hannukah was!)

Soon I left home for years of travel and journeys. When I finally did return the Lahksurs had moved They left behind a lasting impression on me. I felt I was wearing an invisible tattoo in honor of them. I was also confused….

Did my presence around them bring them joy or sadness? Did I remind them of the children who died in the camps? A rebirth so to speak, a feeling of hope and joy they must have clung to everyday in that hell on Earth...or was I reminder of their children who died at the hands of butchers and monsters and pure evil that walked the Earth until it was destroyed.

I like to think it was hope and joy and not a daily reminder of great sadness. Both are long gone by now, passed away and if there is a heaven...I know they are there...and when I die I know Mrs. L will have a large plate of fresh baked cookies waiting for me and I’ll hear Mr. L’s booming laughter as he plays with the children he and Mrs. lost so long ago….