If you turn on the TV today, if you look at the headlines in the newspapers, or visit your favorite media on the internet, you will find nothing but bad news. From the death toll of the COVID-19 virus to the riots in major US cities, from the rising antisemitism to the blatant racism, it could drive anyone to depression and even desperation.
When General Eisenhower visited a concentration camp, he had the US Army document everything because he foresaw that, in the future, there would be people who deny what happened there. I admire his foresight. Since then countries, groups, and individuals have been denying the Holocaust. They say that the Holocaust has not happened, or the whole thing is exaggerated. They say that the Jews came up with the whole idea to get money. However, if the Holocaust has not happened, why has Germany paid? Germany paid because the Germans knew that the Holocaust happened, and they are responsible for the death of millions and the unimaginable suffering they caused.
We go on with our lives even though everything has changed because of the coronavirus. It has affected our physical connection with the outside world. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, like all the other museums in Washington, DC, has been closed since March. I miss riding on the metro and taking an Uber to give my talks to our visitors, giving tours, going to my Echoes of Memory writing workshops, and attending the survivor meetings. However, in the middle of this dark time in the world, it did not stop the Museum from sending out its message.
About 60 years ago my mother and I arrived in the United States. As we ate breakfast on the SS Rijndam, tears welled up as we had our first long-anticipated view of the Statue of Liberty. To us, America was “The New World,” a country where everyone had the opportunity to thrive, a country that welcomed the stranger, a country with none of the narrow-mindedness and antisemitism that persisted in Europe even after the Holocaust. As we stood at the railing waiting for our turn with the immigration officer, we marveled at the heavy protective gloves worn by dockworkers as they unloaded huge crates, and at the cups of coffee they were served on the loading platforms when it came time for a break. Surely this was the real workers’ paradise!
It’s Wednesday afternoon. As usual, Albert and I are sitting at the Donor and Membership Desk at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. As volunteers, we help visitors fill out membership applications, and we accept donations to the Museum. As survivors, our main responsibility is to hand out copies of our brief biographies and answer questions related to our Holocaust experiences.
The survivors who volunteer at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum were notified about a new project to help younger audiences relate to us and I thought it was a fine idea. We were told that members of the Museum’s marketing team had conceptualized a new video series. They envisioned a casual video conversation with us, focusing on parts of our life beyond the Holocaust, “something you are passionate about—a hobby, a moment in your career, or events or experiences that show a more complete view of who you are as people, as individuals.”
One of my favorite places to visit is Venice, Italy. Perhaps because I lived in Amsterdam for so many years, the water in and around Venice makes me feel connected to the city.
On May 5, 2019, I was one of two speakers at a Yom Hashoah commemoration in Denver, Colorado. The gathering could not have been more timely. When I saw the printed program for the first time the day before, I was glad to see that someone had titled my presentation, “Surviving Mass Genocide. Anti-Semitism; History Repeating Itself.” Great title, although I thought I might have put a question mark at the end, as I was not ready to make such an affirmative statement. I would have raised it as a question: “Is History Repeating Itself?”
On January 27, 2018, International Holocaust Remembrance Day, the Polish government passed a bill that would make it illegal to accuse the Polish nation or Polish people of complicity in Nazi war crimes.
The current stories of migrants around the world remind me of World War II and the millions of Jewish migrants, desperate to escape from Europe, with nowhere to go because no country was willing to accept them. We all know about the Kindertransport (my mother’s cousins were on it in 1938, and I have distant cousins and their descendants who made a home in England).
Watch videos and read articles about the Holocaust and the conditions that made it possible.
