Musings of a Wannabe Writer: Yom Hashoah

On Sunday, April 8, 2018, I attended a Yom Hashoah Ve-Hagevural ceremony at the local synagogue, Congregation of Beth Shalom, in our county. Translated, it means "Day of Remembrance of the Holocaust and the Heroism." It was humbling to be in a room with people who could all name friends and family that perished in the

atrocities perpetrated in WWII. There were a couple of survivors and a woman who lived in Haifa, Israel back when it was under British control. She described in detail seeing the Star of David for the first time. Jews had a place to call their own since God scattered them to the four corners of the earth. She also told the story of her uncle who came to Israel illegally. He had survived the Holocaust, but he was the only one that did. "Shoah" is the Hebrew word for the Holocaust. The literal translation is "sacrifice by fire." They paid for their homeland with the blood of millions, not only from the Holocaust, but from the Crusades, Inquisition, and hundreds of years of cruel anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe that led to ghettos and frequent pogroms.

I had my own experience that made it really important to go to the Remembrance. During the first Gulf War, Iraq fired missiles on Israel and everyone became afraid that they would enter the war or retaliate against Iraq.

Especially my sister, who had a friend in the 82nd Airbourne. Except for my Mom, who was adamant that Israel had every right under God to defend herself. To demonstrate why she bought each of us two books. Leon Uris' Exodus and James Michener's The Source. From that point on I devoured anything I could get on Jewish history.

In 2005, I met a sweet 91-year old man who had strong opinions about Israel giving back Gaza Strip to the Palestinians. He had lived in Israel and was there for the early wars. He got married and had a daughter who stayed in Jerusalem when her parents came to the U.S. He had moved to Israel sometime after he was liberated from Auschwitz.

Harry had a story to tell and he figured out that I wanted to hear it. He was from Poland. I don't know if he lived in the ghetto or not, but if I remember correctly, Germany constructed the ghettos

At Auschwitz

before they started sending people to the death camps. His family was deported - destination Auschwitz. His life was saved by his father, who pushed him out of the boxcar they were in. The last act he did for Harry was one of the pure love a parent has for a child.

Having nowhere to go, he joined the Polish Resistance. Eventually, he was captured and sent to Auschwitz. Sometime after that, he found out his whole family was murdered. Having no home, he made his way to Israel, where he worked hanging wallpaper after liberation.

In the hustle and bustle of life, I lost track of Harry. Something I've kicked myself a thousand times for. He passed away in December 2010 at the age of 96. He was buried in his homeland of Israel, and I was so happy to hear that. His heart was always there.

Harry brought me to that ceremony on Sunday. I fully believe that. It was beautiful. They had a procession of six people who each lighted a candle - one for each million murdered. During an answer and question session, I got up and told my story that I have related here. It was hard to do, but I had too. How I made it through that without sobbing uncontrollably is something I still can't figure out. I couldn't write that sentence without Grammarly lighting up a ton of errors.

Afterward, the woman who had lived in Israel through the war of Independence thanked me for sharing, as did a couple of others. One remembered Harry and we talked a little bit. I found out that he had a girlfriend. That made me so happy to hear because when I knew him, he was lonely.

It is one thing to read that six million Jews were systematically slaughtered because of the whims of a twisted, vile, black-hearted, evil man and the men and women who carried out his wishes and the ones who turned a blind eye to what was happening in their own neighborhoods. It is a whole different experience to sit and speak to a man who actually lived through this. I can't imagine what he saw and went through, and the pain he endured. I can't even fathom what his life was like. But I do know when hearing his story in person, history and the reality that this happened knocks me to Timbuktu.

We are looking down on the day when there will not be any first-

hand accounts to remind us of what happened. The Holocaust survivors are passing away and soon it will be up to us - not just the Jewish people - every single one of us who cares about the sanctity of life - to make sure that this world does not forget that two-thirds of the European Jewry were systemically murdered because simply, they were Jews. We owe it to the Jews, and we owe it to ourselves.

It's a major part of history, yet some schools don't teach it.

It needs to be taught. And not sugar-coated either, like history class was when I was in school. I was relieved to hear that Florida schools teaches it. My memories of school were reading The Diary of a Young Girl; Anne Frank." in English class. There are no memories of being taught anything in History class.

Shoes of the Victims of the Holocaust, U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in D.C. The inscription, written by Yiddish poet Moses Schulstein (1911-1981), says: "We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses. We are the shoes from grandchildren
and grandfathers. From Prague, Paris, and Amsterdam, and because we are only made of fabric and leather, and not of blood and flesh, each one of us survived the hellfire."

We also owe it to the victims that weren't Jewish who perished and for those that liberated them and did their best to keep them alive.

Yom Hashoah is observed from sundown Wednesday, April 11, 2018, to sundown Thursday, April 12, 2018. In Israel, at sunset and at 11:00 am a siren is sounded. At that time, cars (people get out as well) and pedestrians stop for two-minutes for a time of remembrance. Throughout the day, Israeli programming will air appropriate programs, and all public places of entertainment are closed. There are services at synagogues and community centers and special yellow yahrzeit (memorial) candles are lit in honor of the victims.

When the siren goes off in Israel on Yom Hashoah

There is also an International Holocaust Remembrance Day that the United Nations mandated. It is on January 27th, which was the day that Auschwitz/Birkenau (the death camp portion of Auschwitz)

was liberated. It is considered the day that non-Jews observe the Holocaust. Israel does not commemorate this date. The day in April or May is the one that Israel mandated in 1959 but had been observing it since 1951. This the day that the Jewish people set aside for Jews to observe internal reflection and educate as survivors pass the torch of remembrance and recognize and the achievements of the survivors and refugees to the next generation.

So we will not forget.

(There are more pictures below. Too many I've gone through touched me. I hope you take a look *Warning* Some images are graphic in nature. Sometimes the need to never forget atrocities done is to have them hit you in the face.)