Before leaving for work this morning, my wife dropped a bag of garbage into the dumpster. The routine had begun, so it first seemed. But then I saw her. She was pale and looked nervous “What’s wrong, Marie?” I asked. “Nothing.” She insisted stubbornly, kissed me goodbye, and drove off to work. Later that day just before dinner, she entered my studio and asked me to put my paintbrush down. Her eyes immediately gave her away. She had something important to say. “This morning when I was throwing out the trash, I saw Karl. He was throwing out a bundle of plant clippings that he had gathered from his vegetable garden. I told him that my father always had a wonderful garden too. We really ate well back in those days, I said. We always had fresh corn, tomatoes, string beans - just about everything you can grow. On Sundays we even had fresh duck or rabbit that he had killed out east on Long Island, where he hunted. Then Karl replied casually.” “I thought they only hunted Jews out east on Long Island.” “I was speechless at first. I told him that we are Jewish and walked away. I didn’t want to upset you. I know you’re heart has been acting up. But, I can‘t hide this kind of thing from you. Karl is the new president of the condominium board and he interviews prospective buyers. I think we must speak out now and let the other homeowners know. What do you think?” “I know we will not be silent,” I answered her. That was a few days ago and I continue to think about it. I know what it is to be a survivor. Like a remnant of cloth on a barb of wire, we are shining in the darkness.