WILL I SEE YOU TOMORROW? , livre ebook

WILL I SEE YOU TOMORROW?
Published by Gatekeeper Press
2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109
Columbus, OH 43123-2989
www.GatekeeperPress.com
Front Cover: Photo by Meryl Lederman Verstandig,
Edited by Ashlea Verstandig Lahat.
Back Cover: Photo and editing by Ashlea Verstandig Lahat.
Book edited by Joseph Walker ( joseph.walker56@outlook.com )
Copyright Colin Lederman 2021
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the publishers prior permission.
The sale of this book is subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The cover design and editorial work for this book are entirely the product of the author. Gatekeeper Press did not participate in and is not responsible for any aspect of these elements.
ISBN (paperback): 9781662914577
eISBN: 9781662914584
TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR S BIOGRAPHY
INTRODUCTION
AUTHOR S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PART ONE
THE BEGINNING
THE VERDICT
ROBBEN ISLAND
THE VISIT
FATHER
MOTHER
THE ESCAPE
KRISTALLNACHT
ME
ARREST AND TRIAL
PART TWO
THE ADVENTURES
GAP YEAR
LONDON
CAPE TOWN
LOVE AND MARRIAGE
THE IN-BETWEEN YEARS
PART THREE
THE LATER YEARS
SECOND CHANCE
ROUND TRIP
THE YEARS ROLL BY
TRAGEDY
NEW BEGINNINGS
THE FINAL YEARS
PART FOUR
APPENDIX
1. WORLD WAR I
2. SHECHITA
3. WORLD WAR II.
4. GREYSHIRTS
5. TOURETTE SYNDROME
6. CARMEL, CALIFORNIA
7. MADONNA INN
8. ROUTE 66
9. NYMPHOMANIA
10. SIX-DAY WAR
AUTHOR S BIOGRAPHY

Colin Lederman (also known as Lord of Ashton) was born in London, England, in 1937.
(Lord of Ashton is a Manorial Title. It relates to a village in Northamptonshire, England. The title has been in existence since the Magna Carter in 1066.)
He is a retired Fellow of the Institute of Chartered Accountants in England and Wales, having practised assiduously for almost 60 years in London, England, and Netanya, Israel.
He has a doctorate in Business Administration, and at the age of 70, he obtained a bachelor s degree in Metaphysical Science.
This book is his first novel, written at the mature age of 84 during the raging Covid-19 epidemic. His chief hobbies include oil and acrylic painting, writing song lyrics and rhyming verses for family occasions.
A family man, married for sixty years to his dear wife Jill, both of whom enjoy their two children, nine grandchildren and twelve great-granddaughters - so far.
INTRODUCTION

My name now is Max Fine. My parents named me Maxwell so for many years I was known as Maxwell Feinstein.
Whilst sitting on my balcony, observing the sun slip away slowly below the horizon, I ruminate about my past life and how much longer I have in this world.
I was born in South Africa to German Jewish parents after the family escaped from Germany in 1936.
I am writing this book as my ultimate legacy. I am dying from a severe case of congenital heart disease for which there is no cure. Only a heart transplant can save me. At my age?
I have my thoughts and memories. Both are fully functional but maybe somewhat fanciful.
The story is about my family and me. I retell some events that happened (or at least that I believe happened) over several generations. Naturally, I was not present at every event so, to that extent, these are either hearsay or my interpretational memories.
Some words or phrases in the book may not be politically correct currently, but were normal when spoken at the time.
I make no apology for spending time on my gap year before attending university since it was one of my most enjoyable times, if not the best. I was a na ve 17-year-old, seeing the world for the first time. In those few months, I became a man.
The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either remain products of my imagination or used fictitiously. Every so often, I refer to factual historical events, places, or medical matters. There is an appendix at the end of the book, so my reader can gain more information about those subject matters, should you wish to.
AUTHOR S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I want to thank my eldest granddaughter, Chloe Verstandig Nagar. She undertook to read the initial draft and gave me constructive comments. During the rewriting of the book, I frequently gave her reworked drafts of various chapters. She read them and commented on them without complaining (at least not to me).
I wish to acknowledge the comments and advice given to me by my brother Joe Lederman, some of which I have incorporated into the book.
My gratitude to Sarah Linn. I have taken extracts from Sarah Linn s article entitled Think Pink: The Madonna Inn, San Luis Obispo s Kitsch Castle.
(At the time of writing this book, Sarah Linn was the arts and entertainment editor of The Tribune in San Luis Obispo, California. She shares her insights on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram at @SheLikestoWatch .)
Finally, I dedicate this book to my wife Jill, for allowing me to ignore her for extended periods while writing this book.
PART ONE
THE BEGINNING
THE VERDICT

I t was 10 a.m. Wednesday, 23 November 1955. The sky was cloudless. The sun shone through a stained glass window casting a kaleidoscope of colours onto the courtroom floor. It was oppressive, a freak heatwave threatening to be one of the year s most scorching days. Just the day to avoid sitting in court.
I was 17 years old, and the school term had ended the previous day. It was the first time I had been in a courtroom in Cape Town, South Africa. It was the first time I had been in any courtroom.
Beechwood panelling covered all four walls. Even the doors were of beech wood. Looking around, I felt as if I were in an enormous wooden box. Two over-sized fans suspended from the vaulted ceiling were slowly revolving, one at the room s front and the other behind where we were sitting. Three black padded leather chairs stood on a raised wooden platform located at the courtroom s front. The centre chair was larger than the other two and trimmed with gold. The judge would sit on the middle chair flanked by two assessors. Space between counsels table and the bench, where the courtroom clerk and reporter sit, are out of bounds to both lawyers and the public.
In severe criminal cases before the High Court (like murder), the judge may select two assessors to assist him. Assessors are typically advocates or retired lawyers. They sit with the judge during the court case and listen to all the evidence presented to the court. At the end of the case, they offer the judge their opinion. Judges do not have to accept the assessors views, but it usually aids them to come to a decision. The assessors may comment solely on facts, not on the law, which remains the judge s responsibility. Neither attorney nor defendants go near the bench unless they ask for and receive the judge s permission. I recognise these facts since I have been studying court procedures at school. I want to enter into the judicial profession, and if I get to university, I will study law.
My eyes focused on a door behind the podium. I had read the judge s chambers are behind it. A judge and the attorneys may arrange a conference in those rooms during a trial or other procedure. A large South African flag hung on the wall behind the podium. It included three horizontal bands of orange, white and blue, with three miniature flags - the Union Jack to the left, the vertical version of the flag of the Orange Free State in the centre and the flag of the South African Republic to the right - centred on the white band. There were two rows of seats in a box to the left of the podium. Twelve jurors sit in these rows during a trial. Naturally, the jury box remains empty during nonjury proceedings.
A 1954 amendment to the nation s criminal code established that all trials would occur without a jury unless an accused person was requesting one. It was then the Minister of Justice s decision whether or not to oppose the request. On the advice of Jack Cottrell, the court-appointed lawyer, my father Josef Feinstein had declined the opportunity to request a trial by jury. The majority of a jury in Cape Town would almost certainly have been Afrikaners. That would have been a disaster for my father, as the boy who died was himself an Afrikaner.
At the rear of the courtroom, a partition or bar separated the public area from the rest. My mother was sitting next to me on the hard wooden bench in the front row. As I looked around the room, members of the public, mainly Afrikaners, were crowded behind us. An Afrikaner is a white South African who speaks Afrikaans and is of Dutch descent - known for their love of biltong (dried meat), rugby, and walking around barefoot in summer. You can easily spot Afrikaners because they will be the only ones wearing shorts and flip-flops in winter. They are also relatively substantial compared to South Africans of British descent. I also observed several Jewish men standing in the corner of the room to the left of me. I recognised most of them from our synagogue.
The crowded benches behind me caused such a kafuffle that I could not quite comprehend what they were saying. Afrikaans is a language that I knew very well, but they were unintelligible because the voices echoed in the room. The court clerk went to investigate and try to calm the situation down before the judge and the assessors entered the court. Despite summoning a police officer to assist, it took several minutes for them to do so.
My dear father was in a holding cell overnight following the summing up by his defence