(prompt: 'star' 17 December 2021)
LOOK what I stumbled over in my archives, while contemplating this weekend's prompt word 'star' tucked away in a far corner of the Black Hole my brain often is (luckily, many dear friends shine their torches for me and much is revealed again... but 'owzis?'...this treasure is nearly five years old!! Wow! (Hope you enjoy a re-read as much as I did! And I still shed a tear or two, remembering my adored father-in-law, Harry Larsen. And I find I still cannot resist repeating a small thought I wrote beneath the title (on my Scrivener) back then:-
All Stars are not created equal... some shine MUCH brighter than others.
* * * * * *
As the shadow, impossibly elongated by the early morning sun until it looked as if Don Quixote rode again, fell across the bench, Harry's heart sank. A cold chill seized his spine, locking it into its already ridiculously bent position and an ominous pounding filled his ears.
Always aware of the risk he took every time he slipped out into the night for the clandestine meetings, he had no doubt about the consequences, and though he feared them, and had heard the unimaginable tales of torture of those caught, he had been prepared to risk all for his country.
The worst choice had been facing what the repercussions could – and most probably would – be on his wife and small son, his resolve seriously weakened as he considered their lives. But Wanda was single-minded in her determination to support and uphold anything to oppose their enemy.
"What kind of life could we possibly have under them, Harry?" As she held their small son tightly to her, she looked first at him, then Harry, and continued, "... and him, Harry? Do you want him to be anybody's slave? NO! Better we all die than be under their heels."
Harry was not naturally heroic. Never had needed to be, until that terrible night when the Germans moved in – overnight – and took over his beloved Denmark. Until he decided to join the Resistance and fight – stealthily maybe - but fight, nonetheless. These days he was living on his nerves, trying not to see danger around every corner, spies behind every door, disaster looming constantly.
"Good morning, worthy citizen." Harry's heart started beating again. There was none of the sarcasm he would have expected from the uniformed 'victors'. This was a beautifully smooth, modulated voice, and the tone was warm and friendly. As his glance slid sideways and up the horse's front legs standing right next to him, nothing could have prepared him for who the rider was and what his eyes could not deny.
The King of Denmark? No... it couldn't be? Could it? King Christian X, riding through Copenhagen's Park, by himself on this crisp early Autumn morning? The King greeting him personally? Harry H. Nobody, a most ordinary painter of park benches these days. And the King was lifting his cap in salute and wishing him well before turning the horse and continuing on his way. Harry's heart rose to the heights again and his face flushed with pride as he saw his King defiantly wearing the yellow Star of David on his arm.
Only the day before, the German hierarchy issued the decree that every Jew 'would be issued with a yellow Star of David and must immediately and forthwith wear said cloth star stitched to clothing, both back and front'. The penalty for disobedience would be severe punishment, even death – already proven in Poland where the largest Jewish ghettoes existed.
Sometimes courage emerges in unexpected quarters, as in the case of King Christian X of Denmark. He was not a Jew, but wore the Star of David until this decree and its threat to his people was removed. It was said that Hitler held some strange respect for the Danish King – bolstered no doubt by this ruler's unbending opposition – and this time ensuring the Germans were unable to impose this Draconian regulation in Denmark.
Harry stared in awe as a German soldier on guard duty nearby snapped to attention and saluted the King, whose eyes imperiously swept past him as though he didn't exist.
I would like to end this small anecdote with the same brilliant saying I began:
All Stars are not created equal... some shine MUCH brighter than others.