JOURNAL

As a child everyone lectured me on the proper way to communicate with God. What seemed odd to me was that everyone had a different interpretation of who God really was, and how to reach Him. It would have been really confusing if God was gender nonspecific. Luckily everyone did agree that God was male. I understood He was a loving God, but did not understand why He allowed wars, hate, intolerance and injustice to flourish within His creation. The math did not add up. Thus began my complex quest to find a simple God. 

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Born in Iowa to Danish (Lutheran) immigrants and raised on a farm, Betty Katherine Beck grew up during the Great Depression of the 1930’s. Life in those days were packed with chores, from sunrise till sunset seven days a week. Pictured in this lovely photo, she had just graduated high school in Waterloo Iowa and was about to enter a local business school where she would gain clerical knowledge of how to run a business. In that male-dominated era, the best she could hope for was to be a secretary.  

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This is a photo of the original cover artwork for the novel Exodus written by my father, Leon Uris. Note the handwritten inscription in the upper right corner: A NOVEL OF ISRAEL BY THE AUTHOR OF BATTLE CRY. Exodus became the pinnacle of his early career with a worldwide readership in the hundreds of millions. Since writing his first play at age six, Dad dreamed of becoming a famous author. After serving in the Marine Corps in World War II, had wrote the novel Battle Cry, about his experiences in the Pacific Campaign. BC became a bestseller and was made into a major motion picture. Although his second novel, The Angry Hills was made into a movie, his popularity faltered. Exodus placed him back on the top of the heap. His story of the birth of Israel fulfilled his childhood dream—one that he shared with the world. His novel brought worldwide acceptance to the plight of our Jewish ancestors.

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At age twenty in the early 1970’s, during my employment at the Charles Eames Design Office in Venice California while working as a field representative, I had the opportunity to chauffer Dr. Philip Morrison 1915-2005 around the Los Angeles area. At first glance he appeared to be an odd fellow with a pronounced hunchback who walked off balance. A kind compassionate man, we would talk for hours as I drove him around the Los Angeles area. At the time I had no idea who he was or anything about his infamy. Looking at his smiling face there were no signs of the overwhelming remorse he had endured for decades.

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