Yom Ha'Shoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

Today is Yom Ha'Shoah, a very somber day in Israel and for Jews all over the world. It has a very special meaning for me, since my father was a Holocaust survivor from Poland. In fact, I was named after my father's mother, Czarna (Charne in Yiddish), and his sister, Ruth, both of whom perished in Treblinka sometime in 1944, along with other members of my family. My brother was named after my father's brother, Artur, who also perished during the war.

My father had been sent by his family to Brussels, Belgium in 1937, at the age of 15, after he was stabbed in the thigh by a gang of Polish youths on his way home from a Hashomer Ha'tzair meeting in Warsaw (the head of his ken -  his meeting place - was Mordechai Anilewicz, who would become the leader of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in April, 1943). My grandfather realized that there would be no safe haven anywhere in Poland.

Sadly, the rest of the family couldn't get out before Poland was attacked on September 1, 1939. In fact, my grandmother was visiting my father when she heard the news, and decided to take the train back to Warsaw immediately, to be with her two younger children (my uncle, Artur, was only 15 at the time, and my aunt, Ruth, was only 9). The only member of the family to survive the war, aside from my father, was my grandfather. He and Artur eventually escaped from the Warsaw Ghetto through the sewer system, just prior to the uprising.  Artur quickly joined a Polish partisan group in the forest outside of Warsaw; after the war, my father learned that he had been shot by the partisans when they found out he was Jewish.

My father eventually made his way to the U.S. near the end of 1944, thanks to an uncle living in New Jersey who sent him money via the Red Cross during the war, surviving a trek alone through Belgium, France, Spain, and Cuba, always one step ahead of being arrested. He joined the U.S. army to obtain immediate citizenship, and when the war ended, was assigned as a civilian to translate at the Nuremberg trials in Germany (my father spoke 7 languages fluently). Once in Europe, he spent many weekends searching for his father, and finally found him, still living in Warsaw with family friends. Within a year, my grandfather was able to join my father in New York.

My father passed away almost three years ago, in June, 2011. He wrote his life story back in the '90's for the sake of his children and grandchildren, and I re-read parts of it every Yom Ha'Shoah.

Yesterday, we observed Yom Ha'Shoah in our Edot classroom. I shared an age-appropriate presentation I prepared several years ago, taking video segments from the "Heritage: Civilization and the Jews" dvd-rom program to share the history and personal stories from that black era. We then joined the rest of the school in the Sanctuary for a Yom Ha'Shoah assembly, during which the teachers lit 7 candles - 6 for the 6 million Jews who perished, and 1 representing non-Jews who were also murdered by the Nazis.

Zichronam lee'v'racha - may their memories be for a blessing