3. Parents and giving

Let me first tell you about my early life, before I delve into more experiences from my adult life, about my father and mother and the place I grew up in.
My father, Max, grew up in Hanover, Northern Germany, in an Orthodox family. He was quite intellectual, enjoying German poetry and kind of a dreamer. His intentions were to become a lawyer, however, with the rise of the Nazis, it became difficult to find a job or training in law. So, he turned to business, establishing connections with England.
In 1933, as the Nazis gained power, his old school friends began avoiding him, crossing the street to avoid meeting him. Second, he felt that German society lacked humor, and from his connections to England, the English had a wonderful sense of humor. Believing that people with a sense of humor wouldn't harm Jews, he decided to move to England and started a small import-export business.
He was very ethical and valued trust in business. He said that this was why he loved his occupation - the business was truly special to him because it was all based on trust in his word. He often mentioned that shipments from Rotterdam to New York were sent based solely on his word, without any paperwork, because people trusted him. He deeply enjoyed this trust-based relationship in business.
Max's orthodoxy remained strong, and he became the local synagogue gabbai (manager). He saw Judaism as an ethical religion, which brought him great joy and support. He also helped German Jewish refugees settle in England, which is how he met my mother in the 1940s.
My mother grew up in Wuppertal, Middle Germany, in a secular home. Her father was a lawyer, and her family was quite nature oriented. She had two brothers and one sister. Her brothers were known for their eccentric activities, like growing mushrooms in the basement. They had horseshit delivered in from the street so they can use it as a bed for mushrooms, they were full of doing crazy things.
When my father moved to England, he managed to bring his parents with him, but some extended family members were left behind and perished. My mother had a tragic story. In 1939, she and her family managed to get a boat from Rotterdam, but at the last minute, her parents went back to retrieve important papers. They missed the boat and were subsequently unable to leave Germany. They were taken to Theresienstadt and then to Auschwitz, where they perished. My mother arrived in England rather lonely.
My father was very angry about Germany, but my mother wasn't. She had a childhood filled with nature, boating, and walking, and her physically oriented personality really kept her grounded. After the war, she even went back to Germany to visit friends and her old town. My father, however, refused to have anything to do with Germany for most of his life in England. They spoke German at home, but I didn't pick it up because I was an immigrant child, and I wanted a new life.
My mother managed to move to England during the war at the time when there was a quota for refugees. She secured a job at Cambridge University, making fires and beds for students, which allowed her to start her life there. Both my parents were deeply committed to charity and helping others. They were interested in Israel, my mother went to ‘Hakhshara’ in Germany to learn farming with the aim to settle in Israel, but my father was a bit scared of it. He sorts of talked about it, but he never really did anything, so they stayed in England.
First, maybe it's not an accident that I talked about my parents as fundamental givers, as a very strong ethic in the family of giving to others. So maybe that's there in my blood. So, when I was practicing Dharma so much in the 80s, I began to get a sense that this is special.