Mind you, as a Scot born early in the 20th century, I’m quite honored to be a guest blogger. My, my, what a lot of change I’ve seen.
Blogging is amazing, to be sure, but it’s not the most worthwhile or even the most thrilling of my life’s experiences. Certainly not. My work with the Monuments Men–now, that was work that made me proud. One would say I was a Monuments Woman, although we women did not get the credit we deserved. Yet another recurring theme in the story of my life. Yet, living the life has made up for it.
There were many things I knew about Rena. She was born in Shanghai to parents who had come there from Russia about the time my grandmother came to the US and for the same reason–to escape pogroms. Her family, like most of the Russian community, lived in Shanghai’s French Concession, and she and her sister attended the French School, where she began to learn the seven languages she eventually spoke. Their father was a writer, magazine editor, and active Zionist; the mother owned a children’s shop. The family left China and went to Israel in 1949. There Rena met and married Hannan, whose business led them to temporary homes in Korea, the Philippines, and Japan before retirement to the 