On January 27, 2014, the world commemorated International Holocaust Remembrance Day, marking the day in January 1945 when Soviet troops liberated the Auschwitz camp complex in German-occupied Poland. The names of Jewish men, women, and children were read aloud and honored at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. I read the names of relatives who were murdered during the Holocaust, including my beloved uncle Richard Stein and aunt Elsa Stein, his wife, both pictured below.
I have very fond memories of Richard and Elsa. They would often visit my parents on weekends and always bring me gifts—stuffed animals, clowns, board games, and for my fifth birthday, several records of symphonies by Antonín Dvořák and Bedřich Smetana, two well-known Czech composers.
They had no children of their own and treated me as their son. I found them in many black-and-white family photographs—my parents’ wedding day, family camping trips, a hike in the woods, and at a local swimming pool.
When visiting our apartment, Richard usually wore a gray suit and carried a banker’s attaché case. He was short and stocky and did not participate in football games sometimes organized by my dad. He tended to stay on the sidelines and watch the action. I do remember playing non-contact games with him in my room—setting up small toy soldiers, reading books, and listening to music. His wife, Elsa, was different—she was full of energy, played football with the boys, helped my mom with cooking, and loved to swim. I loved them a lot.
In the spring, summer, and fall of 1942, large numbers of Czech Jews were rounded up and sent to the ghetto of Theresienstadt. This reflected the Nazis’ decision to implement the “Final Solution,” a plan developed by Nazi leaders to kill all of Europe’s Jews.
On September 22, 1942, Richard and Elsa Stein were among the thousand Czech Jews who were packed into railcars headed for Maly Trostenets in occupied Belarus. The trip took three horrible days. When they finally arrived, virtually all of the prisoners were murdered in gas vans or shot dead in the Blagovshchina forest.
My father’s brother and my uncle, Richard Stein, and me. (Prague 1936) Courtesy of Peter Stein
My nurse, Paka, me, and Elsa Stein, my aunt. (Prague 1940) Courtesy of Peter Stein
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