"The Kinder. The Kinder. What About The Kinder?"

My grandfather (maternal) was from Roumania. He barely spoke a word of English; only Yiddish.

Though I loved him dearly, I never had a real conversation with him. Hardly ever, even heard him speak a word that I could understand.

(We needed no language, however, for him to be the first to teach me to garden.)

Still in my mind, I can hear his voice, clear as day, with every inflection of his tone as he would speak in mixed English and Yiddish with a worrisome tone to other family members

"The kinder. The kinder. What about the kinder (children)?"

I don't know what he had in mind at any given time when he posed this question though I believe I heard it repeatedly from him. Almost as a mantra of his.

(Maybe I only think that because it was all I remember ever understanding of what he said.)

However, somehow I knew that question had a statement from him in it that had something inportant that included me with lots and lots of love.

Today I am reminded of my grandfather's concerns for his children and grandchildren (and maybe many other children too), particularly in this new world to which he immigrated, bringing his wife and children with him.

As I sit at my computer watching for news reports on the congressional hearings on the radicalization of American Muslims, my heart and mind are particularly concerned about our children and grandchildren etc. etc., today, pondering as I am how these congressional hearings will bear on them.

Will these hearings be a legacy of healing or further hurt and terrorism, I wonder.

I pray for the healing but wonder at the possibility for it.

After all Congress is professional at holding hearings. Not at successful dialogue and storytelling.

Somehow this brings my grandfather's voice and his words to my mind 

"What about the kinder?"

I hear him say as I am thinking of all of them.

Wherever in the world they are right now.