In 1965 Louis Armstrong came to Budapest, and he sang in front of 80,000 people in a soccer stadium. I was among the lucky ones who paid an inordinate amount of money for a ticket in the nosebleed section of the stadium. It was worthwhile to see a legend live. I hardly saw him from the distance of my seat, and the stadium’s sound system did not do justice to his signature raspy voice. Yes, I could have bought ten of his vinyl records (Google it if you are under 40) on the black market with perfect sound quality, but then I would have lost my bragging rights of seeing “Satchmo” in person. The financial sacrifice was worth every penny, in this case every fillér.
A few weeks ago, my wife got a message on Facebook from an unknown sender. Here is her message in her own writing, without corrections, which I have shortened slightly for clarity:
Hello, it’s to my understanding that you are the wife of Peter of whom(sic) I was so delighted to have met in my school trip to Washington D.C.’s holocaust museum. My name is Grace-Elizabeth Riley and I am a Jew who attends Mars Hill Bible School in Florence, Alabama. …. I just wanted to let you know that your husband made a very big change in my life. During our conversation he told me that I was wise beyond my years and asked what I would one day like to do. I told him I had a knack for writing but often found myself uninspired. He encouraged me to keep trying and told me he could tell I’d one day go very far. … I will always remember Peter’s story and his words and will tell his story for many years. … He said he had an obligation to tell his story because people still say that it did not happen … God bless, Grace-Elizabeth Riley age 14
Although Grace-Elizabeth did not trust my memory, I vividly remember her. She came back to the survivor desk at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum at least three times with new questions and observations, and she stayed close to the desk while I was talking to other visitors. Her tenacity to find a way to contact me made her message even more precious.
The two events above are separated by 58 years and 7,000 miles. If you are looking for one common thread linking the two events, look no more. Both stories are about someone’s encounter with a person who made a lasting impact on them. I was inspired to learn more about jazz and gospel music, and my appreciation increased as time went by and I had a chance to see Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, and other great musicians in person. I can only hope that Grace-Elizabeth’s touching words will turn into lasting actions for a long time to come.
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, survivors who volunteer at the Museum were invited by schools, school districts, colleges, private and government institutions for in-person presentations all around the country and even overseas, too. COVID changed everything. We shifted most of our public presentations to the internet (Zoom, Facebook, X/Twitter, Instagram) and through the Museum’s website. We have been reaching more people than ever before, and the feedback is tremendous. But I am not yet convinced that the increase in numbers in cyberspace will also increase the impact of our fight against antisemitism and Holocaust denial. Unfortunately, the reactions to the terrorist attack on Israel on October 7 deepen my pessimism. Demonstrations in the United States and worldwide supporting Hamas, accusing Israel of genocide, peppered with openly antisemitic slogans, make the survivors’ testimonies more relevant than ever.
My fellow survivors and I are grateful for all the opportunities to tell our stories on various forums. My personal preferences are the in-person encounters and volunteering at the survivor desk at the Museum every Friday. Feedback on the spot—handshakes, hugs, thank-you notes, selfies, and sometimes tears—is the tangible proof that our efforts are not in vain. As an encouragement for all who work at the Museum, here is another excerpt from a pre-COVID thank you note:
Your story will always stick with me. It’s amazing my generation can still hear a real life victim of the Holocaust tell his story. … I also keep a diary. The fact that your mother still wrote in her diary during the darkest times, it inspires me unbelievably. I’ll probably even tell your story to my children, if I have any.
Julie
P.S. I was the second to shake your hand, if you remember me.
Yes, Julie, I’ll always remember you.
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