What about your other brother, the one who died in bed?<\/p>\n

Which brother?<\/span><\/p>\n

The one you watched die in your bed.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ma, you don\u2019t remember telling me last time about the brother who was poisoned and the other one who died in bed after he was beaten up?<\/p>\n

I remember a little bit the one who was poisoned, but not the other one.\u00a0 To be honest, I don\u2019t even remember him so well either.<\/span><\/p>\n

But he definitely existed?<\/p>\n

Yes, yes, yes.\u00a0 He definitely existed.\u00a0 Nischt du gedacht. <\/span>(you shouldn\u2019t know from it) You can ask my sister, Roza.<\/p>\n

Okay, we\u2019ll figure out the other story later.\u00a0 Why don\u2019t you tell me about this one.\u00a0 What was his name?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember.<\/span><\/p>\n

How could you not remember your own brother\u2019s name?<\/p>\n

Stop hocking me.\u00a0 I was very little.\u00a0 Besides, you know I had the nervous breakdown when I came out from the army.\u00a0 I forgot a lot, things came back in pieces, and my parents didn\u2019t want me to remember anyway, and they didn\u2019t talk about it.\u00a0 I know he went to work for a restaurant, and they found out he was a Jew, and they poisoned him with fish.\u00a0 They gave him a poisoned fish, poor thing.<\/span><\/p>\n

Did you ever ask about him?<\/p>\n

Nu, of course, but my parents wouldn\u2019t tell me \u2013 die daftnischt viss\u2019n <\/span>(you don\u2019t need to know).\u00a0 Maybe I also didn\u2019t want to know so much.<\/span><\/p>\n

You know what?\u00a0 Why don\u2019t you just start wherever you want?\u00a0 You just tell me what you remember, and I\u2019ll ask questions when I need clarification, okay?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know why my life should be so interesting for a book, anyway.\u00a0 You\u2019re the one who\u2019s educated.\u00a0 The book is about you, no?<\/span><\/p>\n

Ma, your story is very interesting.\u00a0 The book is about both of us.\u00a0 What I learned from my early life, and also what you learned from yours.<\/p>\n

I prefer to forget it, but I\u2019ll help you the best I can. <\/span><\/p>\n

If you don\u2019t want to talk about it, we can stop.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll tell you, mamaleh.\u00a0 But I can remember only pieces.\u00a0 In between the pieces, you can put the common sense.\u00a0 You ask me the questions, okay? <\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t worry, Ma.\u00a0 I\u2019ve had a lot of practice.<\/p>\n

\n

***********************<\/p>\n

In my mother\u2019s story, all roads lead back to the war.\u00a0 Every event of the previous six years of her life were overshadowed by it.\u00a0\u00a0 Partially, that\u2019s just because of the nature of memory itself \u2013 it takes the first six years for memories to consolidate in our brains.\u00a0 Much of what\u2019s remembered before then is necessarily fragmented.\u00a0 Partially it\u2019s because of the nature of the war, and all that it destroyed.\u00a0 The first thing to go was her national identity.\u00a0 She was born in Bucharest, Romania.\u00a0\u00a0 But she would never step foot there again.<\/p>\n

The second thing it would destroy would be her family.\u00a0 It isn\u2019t clear how many brothers and sisters Clara had.\u00a0 In most of her memories, she\u2019s the youngest of five children; the oldest was her sister Roza, who was a decade older, and there were three boys between them \u2013 Srul, Reuven and Aron.\u00a0 But there was also the poisoned brother whose name she forgets, who was a teenager when she was six.\u00a0 The brother she\u2019d remembered dying in her bed would turn out to be a cousin. There might also have been twins who died in infancy, but that was sketchy too.\u00a0 Clara was the youngest, and her father\u2019s favorite, a fact that didn\u2019t escape her mother Malca\u2019s notice.<\/p>\n

Malca kept a tight rein on her children, and wasn\u2019t above a good beating to keep them in line.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t talk, she smacked.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t ask questions.\u00a0 Bop, and then she asked questions. <\/span><\/p>\n

The one exception was Roza, the beautiful and willful one.\u00a0 As a child, I\u2019d known her only from her pictures.\u00a0 The one I remember most is a large black-and-white photo from early adulthood.\u00a0 She had long thick dark hair pulled back, and was holding a microphone as if it was something she did often.\u00a0 Standing near her was a dark haired man holding a violin to his chin, ready to strike it with his bow.\u00a0\u00a0 I thought I remembered something about her singing in a nightclub or a contest, maybe that\u2019s where the picture was taken.\u00a0 She was smiling a confident and knowing smile to the camera, like a young Gene Tierney.<\/p>\n

Roza did what she wanted.\u00a0 She let my mother talk and she said, \u2019yes, yes,\u2019 and then she just did what she wanted.\u00a0 She used to call me a stupid square.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Roza would be no match for the Legionnaires, the Romanian fascists.\u00a0 A spirited teenager, she ignored the rules against Jews\u2019 working, and went looking with a friend for a job in the city.\u00a0 They were spotted by a green-shirted group of Legionnaires, who demanded to see their papers.\u00a0\u00a0 The two girls either didn\u2019t have them, or else hid them because they would clearly give them away.\u00a0 That night, Roza came home bruised and beaten, and with her head shaved.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t venture out again.<\/p>\n

It was downhill from there.\u00a0 Clara was thrown out of school in the first grade.\u00a0\u00a0 Around the time other children were learning to read and write, she was living in the forest with her mother and brothers.\u00a0 Roza was hidden somewhere else by the Jewish Underground, and separated from the rest of the family.\u00a0 Clara didn\u2019t know where she was.\u00a0 Or whether she\u2019d ever see her pretty sister again.<\/p>\n

Her doting father Avram was soon taken away by the authorities.\u00a0 The family was told he was going to Transnistria, a part of the Soviet Union that the Romanians occupied as the Axis powers expanded.\u00a0 The word alone was enough to instill terror in anyone\u2019s heart.\u00a0 Even the areas of Transnistria that were outside of the concentration camps were known as killing fields.\u00a0 Few Jews ever returned from there.<\/p>\n

Clara and her mother and brothers went into hiding in the woods of Chernowitz, in what is now part of the Ukraine, with scores of other refugees.\u00a0\u00a0 When they were lucky, the terrified refugees could hide in warehouses.\u00a0 They had to sleep on the floor, but at least they were indoors.\u00a0 When they were really lucky, there were non-Jews who would come secretly to bring food, and, with it, the hope that came from knowing that kind and courageous people still existed. \u00a0When they were unlucky, they had to sleep outside in the forest.\u00a0 During the day, Clara and her mother would forage for leaves big enough to cover themselves with at night.<\/p>\n

At first, the Jewish Underground helped Avram escape before he got to Transnistria, but he was recaptured within days.\u00a0 The Romanians weren\u2019t as organized as the Germans, and they held their prisoners in the basement of a house while their captors decided what to do with them.\u00a0 Avram was tortured.\u00a0 I heard from various members of my mother\u2019s family about a broken back, and teeth that were pulled out.\u00a0 He\u2019s bent over in every picture I\u2019ve ever seen of him.<\/p>\n

But he was lucky once again.\u00a0 His childhood friend Misu, a gentile, was now a police chief in Bucharest.\u00a0\u00a0 Misu drove to where Avram was being held and demanded immediate custody of the prisoner.\u00a0 He made a show of roughly throwing my grandfather into the back of a wagon, and rode away with him.<\/p>\n

Wait, what do you mean, wagon?\u00a0 Why weren\u2019t they driving cars? Are you sure?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 Maybe they drove in cars.\u00a0 What I know is Misu brought him in the wagon to us in the forest.\u00a0 I remember he was blue, nebb\u2019ech, very sick.\u00a0 The other men had to carry him in the forest until he could go by himself.\u00a0 Then they took us to a different part of the forest, in another wagon.\u00a0 It was broken down and the horse was wild, oy it was so wild.\u00a0 A woman was crying from the bumps, she screamed, \u2018I didn\u2019t die by the Nazis, so now I can die from the horse!\u2019 and I laughed.\u00a0 My father was so thrilled that I could laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

No matter how hard I try, Clara\u2019s remaining memories of the war come in fragmented flashes.\u00a0\u00a0 Walking across the border — with what country, she doesn\u2019t remember; crawling under a fence with her father crawling over her, so he would take the bullet first in case the sentry shot them.\u00a0 Her father\u2019s soft voice, saying, \u201cClarahleh, stay close to daddy, stay under me.\u201d\u00a0 Falling down the side of a mountain into the snow, and being rescued by one of her brothers.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve spent a lifetime trying to piece together the truth from what I\u2019ve heard from my mother.\u00a0 It\u2019s what drove me to become a clinical psychologist.\u00a0 I don\u2019t necessarily trust all the parts as my mother tells them now either.\u00a0 She\u2019s lied before.\u00a0 She once even made up a friend named Sarah as a cover for her compulsive gambling jaunts.\u00a0 When I surprised her by showing up at one of her alleged rendezvous with Sarah \u2013 to prove the jig was up \u2013 Clara didn\u2019t miss a beat.\u00a0 She feigned surprise that Sarah hadn\u2019t shown up.\u00a0 Later, she would call with the reason why \u2013 the poor woman had suffered a stroke.\u00a0 Clara killed her off within a few days, saying she had to pay Sarah\u2019s family a shiva call.\u00a0 This was the final nail, so to speak \u2013 Clara never went on shiva calls in those days; they gave her panic attacks.\u00a0 Her best friend Masha stopped speaking to her when she didn\u2019t visit during the shiva for Masha\u2019s husband.\u00a0 When I asked my father if he\u2019d be joining her on the visit, he didn\u2019t know what I was talking about.<\/p>\n

But my mother\u2019s lies had a purpose \u2013 to deflect criticism.\u00a0 And yet, it strikes me as I hear these fragments that I\u2019ve never heard them before. All those times she could have used them against me, the times I yelled at her, the times I interrogated her to prove she\u2019d been at the Off-Track-Betting parlor instead of wherever she claimed she\u2019d been, she never once mentioned them, never used them to say, \u201cHow dare you put me through this after all I\u2019ve suffered.\u201d\u00a0 She would say how easy I had it compared to her, yes, but so did everyone\u2019s parents, even the kids with good old American moms and pops. But she would have gotten a lot more mileage out of these stories than she did with the ghost of Sarah.<\/p>\n

Even now, they\u2019re nothing more than jagged pieces until she gets older and the war is behind her.\u00a0 Clara never tries to make a coherent story out of them. She leaves that to me.\u00a0 As she will remind me many times, You\u2019re the educated one.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was younger I devised rules for what could be called clara-fication<\/span>.\u00a0 Less rules, really, than heuristics to help me decide if any given thing she was telling me was a lie or the truth.\u00a0 When I\u2019d ask her to pick up something for me at Waldbaum\u2019s, for instance, say bananas.\u00a0 I\u2019d ask for them when she got home and I could tell from the way she said, \u201cThey didn\u2019t have them,\u201d that she was lying.\u00a0 How could I tell? I\u2019d ask myself, so that in the future, I wouldn\u2019t have to rely on intuition alone.\u00a0 The first rule was \u2013 look for the motivation to lie.\u00a0 In this case, she didn\u2019t want to admit she\u2019d forgotten.\u00a0 This was a good sign that she was lying because her lies were almost always meant to forestall getting into trouble (even if getting into trouble meant nothing more than displeasing her prickly daughter) or to justify her actions.<\/p>\n

The second rule was, if I started interrogating her, she\u2019d have a quick answer for everything, to make sure there were no holes in her story.\u00a0 Unfortunately for her, as the saying goes, – a ligner darf hoben a guten zickorin -<\/span> a liar must have a good memory \u2013 which is why, for all her practice, and seeming shamelessness, she had no great talent for it either, and her answers would contradict each other easily.\u00a0 But she would be shameless about this too, leaving her invulnerable to attack.\u00a0 Though I certainly kept trying.\u00a0 Even now, I try to use the rules sometimes.\u00a0 And I look up Chernowitz and Transnistria, to make sure the information about them matches what little she says about them.\u00a0 It does.<\/p>\n

The first thing I notice now as she tells me these stories, is that she is quick to answer, \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d when I ask her questions, never tries to put the pieces together, and never uses them as excuses.\u00a0 The only justifications I hear are for her mother, my grandmother Malca \u2013 who, my Israeli cousin Sima once told me, had mistreated my mother.\u00a0 Ra<\/span> was the adjective Sima used to describe her treatment.\u00a0 Bad, very bad.\u00a0\u00a0 My mother says it was the war that did that to her, ever since Avram was first taken away.<\/p>\n

Malca didn\u2019t look ra<\/span> in her pictures, but she did look formidable. My grandmother is short like me \u2013 neither of us made it to five feet tall \u2013 with tightly pursed lips stained with dark lipstick \u2013 staring straight into the camera.\u00a0 I suspect I inherited from her my penchant for interrogation \u2013 focused on tiny details meant to trip up my defendant, who was usually Clara.\u00a0 But the only punishment I doled out was a heavy dose of contempt, instead of a beating.\u00a0 Everything about Malca was all tight lines.\u00a0 And neat, not a wrinkle on her clothes, not a thing out of place in her small sparse living room.\u00a0 Not like the messy Clara, or like me.<\/p>\n

I did everything my mother said because if not, I would get a beating.\u00a0 Like Ezer Weitzman said, you know who he is?<\/span><\/p>\n

I know, Ma.\u00a0 He was your commanding officer when you were in the Israeli Air Force later.<\/p>\n

He was the President of Israel too, you know, but later.\u00a0 Then, he was my M\u2019faked.\u00a0 He once told me, \u2018You know, Chaya\u2013 he knew me by my Hebrew name — you\u2019re the most obedient soldier I ever saw.\u00a0 You obey the p\u2019kudot <\/span>(regulations) to the letter.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>\n

I said, \u2018M\u2019faked, I had a sergeant in my home, my mother!\u00a0 You had to do, you know.\u00a0 You had to obey wherever you are.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

He smiled, \u2018 Zeh m\u2019od chamud.\u2019 <\/span>(Hebrew, for that\u2019s very charming<\/span>) <\/span><\/p>\n

My mother, when she said a word, she was like god.\u00a0 You have to remember.\u00a0 My mother wasn\u2019t a bad mother, she had a lot of \u2018tsurris\u2019 <\/span>(trouble) — having children, and not having what to give them to eat, she didn\u2019t have a picnic, she had hardship.\u00a0 And she lost children.\u00a0 She lost twins before I was born.\u00a0 They were sick and she didn\u2019t have what to feed them.<\/span><\/p>\n

How old were they when they died?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know, it was before I was born.\u00a0 I used to know, but after my nervous breakdown, I don\u2019t remember anything.\u00a0 But no matter what happened, my mother was\u00a0 so clean, she was\u00a0 – how you say \u2013 meculous?<\/span><\/p>\n

Do you mean \u201cimmaculate?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yes, meculous clean, I used to wear schmattes, and everyone said those schmattes shined, that\u2019s how meculous she kept me. <\/span><\/p>\n

And when we were in the camp after the war, you should see what she did.\u00a0 They had to disinfect us because some of us had TB.\u00a0 They disinfected all the rooms that we were in.<\/span><\/p>\n

Where?<\/p>\n

In Italy, we were in the camp, after the war.<\/span><\/p>\n

You mean, a displaced persons camp.<\/p>\n

Yeh, like I said.\u00a0 I think we were in Cremona then.\u00a0 Anyway, all the refugees were in a big warehouse, and they gave you a portion.\u00a0 They hang up a rope and put a sheet in between, and this is your portion, like where your family lives, in the warehouse.\u00a0 They took us all out and they disinfected the whole place.\u00a0 And then they sprayed us with some kind of powder all over us.\u00a0 We had to take off the clothes and everything.\u00a0 We were naked, one by one, they put a sheet like in a hospital when they put a sheet between the beds.\u00a0 One by one you had to take the clothes off, and they sprayed the powder.\u00a0 Women sprayed women and men sprayed men.\u00a0 We couldn\u2019t go in our room for hours and hours.\u00a0 And they took away all our clothes and they gave us a robe, like when you go to visit a doctor they give you a robe to put on.\u00a0 And then we went home and we had to put on whatever we had.\u00a0 We didn\u2019t have much.\u00a0 My mother put on me Roza\u2019s things, a skirt from Roza and a blouse.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was ten years old.\u00a0 Roza was twenty, and big.\u00a0 I was little.\u00a0 So her clothes were big, big on me.\u00a0\u00a0 So my mother tied up the blouse in front, and the slip she folded it over and over.\u00a0 She tied a rope around the waist of the skirt.\u00a0 You should see how nice she did it.\u00a0 She was very imaginative, she loved clothes, probably from when she was young, she was a dressmaker for men.\u00a0 She was very talented, my mother. <\/span><\/p>\n

Was your father a sergeant too?<\/p>\n

Oh, my father was very soft-speaking.\u00a0 We weren\u2019t afraid of him.\u00a0 He talked quietly, and we would always do what he said, but from respect.<\/span> <\/span>I had an aunt, Mimmeh Liebe.\u00a0 Mimmeh is like Auntie in English.\u00a0 She was my father\u2019s aunt.\u00a0 Mimmeh Liebe didn\u2019t have children.\u00a0 So she begged me, \u2018make sure when I die, someone will say kaddish after me.\u2019\u00a0 You know, it has to be a man.\u00a0\u00a0 And I used to push my brothers to say kaddish for her.\u00a0 But they didn\u2019t feel like to do it.\u00a0 So, I would say to my father, \u2018it looks like they don\u2019t want to go say kaddish, but I promised Mimmeh Liebe\u2019\u00a0 We weren\u2019t orthodox but one thing they could do was to say kaddish.\u00a0 My father \u2013 oh, they listened to my father \u2013 but he talked quietly to them.\u00a0 He said, \u2018Sruli, Sruli, please go say Kaddish, it takes only two minutes.\u00a0 Do it for daddy, please.\u2019\u00a0 And he would go.\u00a0 Me, they wouldn\u2019t do it for, but for my father, they would go.\u00a0 He already suffered enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

You know how much I love the movies.\u00a0 Well that was starting from Cremona, and then later in Israel too.\u00a0 I used to run away from my life.\u00a0 You know, when you see movies, you don\u2019t think about your life.\u00a0 It\u2019s a different life, you don\u2019t stay and mope on yours. <\/span><\/p>\n

The first movie I saw was \u2018Gilda,\u2019 you remember \u2018Gilda?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

Yeah, with Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford.<\/p>\n

Oy, that was some movie.\u00a0 I was 10.\u00a0 Oy, I got a beating for it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Why?<\/p>\n

My Uncle Marcu, my cousin Dinah\u2019s father, gave me money to go with Dinah.\u00a0 We stayed and watched it again, and again, and again.\u00a0\u00a0 By the time we got back, it was very late.\u00a0 My mother was waiting with Dinah\u2019s mother Mintze by the gate, by the refugee camp.\u00a0 She waited so long, they were worried to death.\u00a0 Mintze was happy to see us,\u00a0 that we were okay.\u00a0 But my mother start to pull me by the hair, and smacked me back and forth, back and forth. <\/span><\/p>\n

She was screaming, \u2018Never again will you do this to me.\u00a0 Never again will you do this.\u2019\u00a0 And I was crying, \u2018No, no, mommy.\u00a0 No.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>\n

We come back to our place in the camp, and I went right away to my father.\u00a0 He never raised his voice, but this time, he yelled at her.\u00a0 \u201cA meshuggena, die hargetz mein baby.\u201d <\/span>(You crazy person, you\u2019re killing my baby.)\u00a0 She went away, and I stayed with him.\u00a0 So, I told him the story from the movie, and I could see my mother had come back.\u00a0 She was hiding in a corner listening while I talked. <\/span>(The adult Clara is laughing as she says this now.) She didn’t move until I finished the story from the whole movie.\u00a0 My father, you know, he was very sick now all the time, but he loved the story, my mother loved the story.\u00a0 It was a gorgeous movie. <\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t have enough money to go to the movies, though, even later, when we were in Israel.\u00a0 My mother gave more money to my brothers.\u00a0 They were her favorites.\u00a0 And she said boys needed more money than girls.\u00a0 I had nothing. So I would ask my brothers for money so I could see movies.\u00a0 I would ask them and they would say \u2018No,\u2019 the stinkers.<\/span><\/p>\n

So how did you get to see so many movies?<\/p>\n

Sruli was always doing something bad.\u00a0 So, I snitched on him and he got a beating.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 After that, he gave me money for movies.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ma, on the phone, you said to remind you to tell me a story.\u00a0 Was that the story you wanted to tell me?<\/p>\n

No, now, I\u2019ll tell you about Sruli and Elena when we were in Israel already.\u00a0 They were supposed to get married one day in 1949.\u00a0 I forget which day exactly. They didn\u2019t have any money \u2013 he was always a vagabond.<\/span><\/p>\n

What do you mean, vagabond<\/span>?<\/p>\n

You know, he didn\u2019t like to work, he wasn\u2019t responsible. He played dice instead.\u00a0\u00a0 Like that. So, it would just be a small affair with a rabbi in my parents\u2019 house.\u00a0 Just a few people.\u00a0 Her father was killed in the war and her mother was far away.\u00a0 Sruli was twenty-three, I was about fifteen.\u00a0 The date came, Elena came to the house wearing her nicest dress.\u00a0 The rabbi came soon after her.\u00a0 My parents were there, and me.\u00a0 But no Sruli. <\/span><\/p>\n

My\u00a0 mother told me to go find Sruli and give him a message for her. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Tell him that if he doesn\u2019t come right now, I\u2019m going to break every bone in his body.\u00a0 Go.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

So I went.\u00a0 I looked in all the places where the vagabonds hung out.\u00a0 There he was, in an empty store, playing dice with the other vagabonds.\u00a0 I told him my mommy\u2019s message.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t budge. Then, I had an idea.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSruli, look, Mommy\u2019s coming down the street!\u00a0 She\u2019ll be here any minute.\u201d\u00a0 Just like that, Sruli ran out from the back of the store, and he ran all the way home, to get away from my \u2018mother.\u2019\u00a0 When he got there, he saw she was there the whole time, and he knew I lied.\u00a0 He waved his arm at me, like to say he would give me a beating.\u00a0 My mother said, \u2018If you touch her, Vagabond, I\u2019ll kill you.\u201d\u00a0 And that\u2019s how they got married.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

How long did their marriage last?<\/p>\n

About fifty years.\u00a0 Until he died a few years ago. <\/span><\/p>\n

You were very clever.<\/p>\n

But not like you. I\u2019m not educated like you.<\/span><\/p>\n

Believe me, Ma, your education is a lot more impressive than mine. <\/span>Should we continue next time?<\/p>\n

Sure, Mamale.\u00a0 Whatever you want. <\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In Between the Pieces<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-825","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-memoirs"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=825"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1293,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825\/revisions\/1293"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=825"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=825"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=825"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}