A collective shudder shook the Westside in recent days — especially among parents of school children who jump on the school buses that criss-cross town every morning and afternoon.
Julia Siegler, 13, a student at Harvard-Westlake, was struck by two cars as she tried to cross Sunset at the intersection of Cliffwood and Sunset in Brentwood. As everyone knows by now, she was killed.
If you can, pull over and take a look at the shrine of flowers, candles, pictures and written statements that now occupy that corner. Julia was a very special young lady, it is clear.
I never knew Julia but I know the parents, Scott and Jody Siegler. This is so terribly sad. I’m sure nobody can even begin to comprehend their pain. They are wonderful parents, their love for Julia was obvious to all.
They have a terrific son, Matthew, now a second-year law school student at Harvard. He gave my own daughter a tour of Congress once, while he was working for Congressman Henry Waxman.
Somehow they will carry on. I don’t know how, but I know they all will. The community has been amazingly supportive; as the days pass, the mood becomes a little lighter.
Rabbi Morley Feinstein and the rest of the University Synagogue staff has done a terrific job of rallying the faithful. Every day and every night, friends gather at the Siegler’s to offer whatever comfort they can. The services have been just perfect.
Despite the grim circumstances, this has rallied the community like little I have seen over the years. This could have happened to anyone. At some level, we’re all saying a prayer, thanking God it wasn’t us. It wasn’t us, but it was the Sieglers. Let’s all say another prayer, both for Julia and for the rest of the family as they carry on.
I am not Jewish and there is much I don’t know about Jewish traditions. But I must say, I really like the way friends, rabbis, school children, fellow parents and neighbors have kept vigil here. The food that arrives each day could feed an army. People are really connecting over this. This is a great example that “community matters.”
I had the opportunity to speak with Julia’s maternal grandfather, who spent time in the Nazi camps during World War II. This is a man who has seen more than his fair share of grief. He knew many, including a brother, who didn’t make it.
But he did make it.
He said maintaining some kind of sense of humor, no matter how dark, was key.
When the Americans liberated his camp, he was 18. He was first incarcerated at 13. When freed, he was down to 80 pounds — a “laundry” kid. I wasn’t sure what he meant by a “laundry” kid, and I was hesitant to ask.
With almost Seinfeld-like timing, he said his rib cage was the washboard; the cavities between his neck and shoulders is where one could stash the soap bars; and his hips stuck out so far they offered a perfect place to hang laundry to dry.
He said it was humor like this that saw him and fellow survivors through. I guess that offers hope. If so many could live through the Holocaust, the rest of us will somehow figure out a way to get through these current dark days.
In some of the goodbye speeches that have been offered up in Julia’s memory, there have been some smiles and laughter. This is not a time of joy, but something good will come of this. It’s impossible to know what that is, but one can feel it anyway.
