What a beautiful and poignant article. A lot of us have family that made the real march. No one looks after us. That is why we must look after ourselves. To hell with everyone else.

Her name later became Palestine.......any way God bless the souls of the Holocaust victims regardless of their religion or their race or color

at 41 my grandfather the blind and a poet was travelling in a bus from near nablus to jerusalem to visit his son family at that time my oldest brother was born in this bus one of the travellers put a pot of kooging food on the upper shelfe it was dropped on the head of the passengers spoiled their clothes .. my grand father wrote a poem about this incidense .he died in 44 at this time my mother had a new girl baby my grandmother asked to be named as fatima the name of baba grandmothe after six years i was borned in jerusalem i knew this story from my mother and she told the poet about the food pot .i like it ..sometimes we nees ears only to see