I’ve heard Ted is not well. Prostate cancer. I will most likely take his book, Herr Krupp’s Berthawerk, with me to Peru. It’s an historical novel based on his experiences living in, working in, and escaping from, Nazi concentration camps.
Ted was not only my favorite adult when I was a child, he was the first person to treat me as an adult as I grew older. I spent one of the best days of my life with him visiting Honolulu. He called me a tourist for wanting to see the Arizona memorial, but I caught him crying during the film about WWII before the ferry ride to the memorial. He then took me to every roof-top hotel bar on the island of Oahu for fruity, frozen drinks with umbrellas and pineapple garnishes. He paid me what was perhaps the greatest compliment of my life when he told me I was OK. It was one of the most genuine things anyone had ever said to me. This was right after he said, “I know who your mother is. In the camps, we would have had to kill her to survive.”
