A Late Friendship That Is Encouraging

"Roommate", a term that evokes associations - but rarely does one think of two old men scarred by life. Even in nursing homes, especially in the Frankfurt Budge Foundation, there are still encounters that are encouraging, far beyond the private sphere.

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Mark Horovitz and Heinz Brockmeyer, my father, were completely different people. In the Book of Life, this encounter in the twilight of life has certainly not been predetermined. One the grandsons of the last rabbi of Frankfurt's B?rneplatz Synagogue, who was spared the fate of many of his generation through his parents' foresight to bring him out of the country in time; the other indoctrinated by the Nazis during childhood and puberty, who never reflected on the past, at least never perceptible to me. As a child, and even more so later, I heard little from my father about experiences in the 3rd Reich. Prejudices ran deep, especially against Poland. He met several Poles in his life, "great guys", as he then judged, not recognizing any contradiction. That's how he was.

***On July 2, 2023, the Stumbling Stone for the Horovitz family will be unveiled in Frankfurt.***

Now, these two opposites lived together in one room, one, separated from his family in the USA and abandoned, dependent on permanent help due to a stroke, the other, who never wanted to leave his house in Darmstadt until the onset of dementia, his increasing need for care and his son forcing him to do so. He resented me for a long time, but circumstances left no other choice. An insufficiently treated abscess, the subsequent emergency surgery and the follow-up treatment including three general anesthesias in just one week, even someone much younger than the 91-year-old would have had a hard time. But that's a story of its own. In any case, he could no longer stay home alone and we, my wife and I, wanted to have him close by so that we could visit him as often as possible. That we came across the Frankfurt Budge Foundation was mere luck.

The Henry and Emma Budge Foundation is very special: founded in the 1920s to encourage exchange between Christians and Jews, it was "aryanized" by the Nazis and only revived in the 1950s, with the original purpose, which, of course, now has a much greater meaning. Since then, Jews and Christians in Frankfurt have been able to live side by side again in the last phase of their lives. That, too, is a story of its own, one that is both tragic and hopeful.?

Coincidence brought my father and Mark into a shared room. At that time, we didn't know if my father might be able to return home after a period of convalescence. When it became clear that this was not the case, we applied for a single room for him. Very quickly, however, we realized how good the close association with Mark Horowitz was and withdrew the application for a single room. My father simply needed to be addressed at all times and Mark also became noticeably more lively.

Mark's life story has it all: Mark and his sister were brought out of Germany to London as children, and his parents also managed to leave the country shortly afterwards. The family lived in Canada, Mark later had a scientific career at the University of California at Berkeley, married and adopted two children. Even though I haven't seen this documented anywhere, he is said to be one of the fathers of the Burning Man Festival. At the age of around 80 he "returned" to Germany. He had met a woman from Germany and appeared as a contemporary witness in schools. But then came the stroke. He was at odds with the children in California and they ignored him. The Budge Foundation became his last refuge... So much for the story as it had been told to me.

Mark was not bitter in spite of this tragedy. Although he was confined to a wheelchair, which he could not operate on his own, he had to be dressed and fed and was significantly limited in communication. But he seemed satisfied and gladly accepted any attention. This led to "frightening moments" when, for example, my father drove him through the ward, using the wheelchair as a walker, and then staggered back to his seat unsupported. I also remember how we had been in the café of the foundation with my father, and he took a piece of cream cake back to the ward. Not for himself, but for his roommate, who had just been redressed by the nurses. Father had forgotten the fork and by the time he had fetched it, Mark had already grabbed the sweet mass with his hands and shoved it into his mouth. Of course, the nurses had to dress him once again afterwards.

For my father, there were really new impulses in his old days. He, who had never in his life seen anything but a Catholic church was happy to accompany Mark to the Shabbat celebrations in the foundation's own synagogue, although Catholic service was available, but somewhat less present and during week-days. The Shabbat meal with the small parish also gave my father a lot of pleasure, even though he and Mark tired quickly and usually did not stay until the end. My father also developed a close bond with the parish's rabbi, Andy Steiman, who undoubtedly is a pastor in the best sense of the word and is fully committed to interreligious dialogue. “It is good that such a coexistence of religions is possible today”, my father once said. The fact that this post-war reality is now changing again and prejudice is increasing again is something my father no longer noticed.

Mark died a few months before my father who also got along well with his new roommate, but never developed the closeness he had shared with Mark. Although increasingly affected by his dementia, my father dealt with his past. "My grandfather took me to school one morning. That's when I saw how they put them on the trucks," he told me abruptly when we once had lunch together in the foundation's restaurant. That's all he said, but it was the first time he had ever talked about it to me.?