On a cold day in 1942, inside a Nazi concentration camp, a lone young boy looks beyond the barbed wire and sees a young girl pass by.  She, too, is moved by his presence.  In an effort to give expression to her feelings, she throws a red apple over the fence -- a sign of life, hope, and love.  A young boy bends over, picks up the apple.  A ray of light has pierced his darkness.

 The following day, thinking he is crazy for even entertaining the  notion of seeing this young girl again, he looks out beyond the fence, hoping.  On the other side of the barbed wire, the young girl yearns to see again this tragic figure who moves her so.  She comes prepared with apple in hand.  Despite another day of wintry blizzards and chilling air, two hearts are warmed once again as the apple passes over the barbed wire.

The scene is repeated for several days.  The two young spirits on opposite sides of the fence look forward to seeing each other, if only for a moment and if only to exchange a few words.  The interaction is always accompanied by an exchange of inexplicably heartening feelings.

 At the last of these momentary meetings, the young boy greets his  sweet friend with a frown and says, "Tomorrow, don't bring me an apple.  I will not be here.  They are sending me to another camp."  The young boy walks away, too disheartened to look back.

 From that day forward, the calming image of the sweet girl would appear to him in moments of anguish.  Her eyes, her words, her thoughtfulness, her red apple, all were a recurring vision that would break his nighttime sweats.

 His family died in the war.  The life he had known had all but  vanished, but this one memory remained alive and gave him hope.

 In 1957 in the United States, two adults, both immigrants, are set up on a blind date.  "And where were you during the war?" inquires the woman.  "I was in a concentration camp in Germany," the man replies.  "I remember I used to throw apples over the fence to a boy who was in a concentration camp," she recalls.  With a feeling of shock, the man speaks, "And did that boy say to you one day, "'Don't bring an apple anymore because I am being sent to another camp'?"   "Why, yes," she responds, "but how could you possibly know that?

 He looks into her eyes and says, "I was that young boy."

 There is a brief silence, and then he continues, "I was separated  from you then, and I don't ever want to be without you again.  Will you marry me?"  They embrace one another as she says, "Yes."

 On Valentine's Day in 1996, on a national telecast of the Oprah Winfrey show, this same man affirmed his enduring love to his wife of nearly forty years. "You fed me in the concentration camp," he said, "and you fed me throughout all these years.  Now I remain hungry if only for your love.