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EmailMemory of the Holocaust
Flora Hogman, Ph.D.
New York, U.S.A.
reprinted from Holocaust Echoes at http://www.holocaustechoes.com
This paper addresses the legacy, the memory of the Holocaust into the third generation of Jews who survived the war 50 years ago. It represents preliminary findings of an ongoing research. Memories are a way to remain connected to the past, they are embedded in traditions, in family tales about ancestors, rituals, passed on values. Memories ensure continuity of one's heritage and structure identity. But memories, while they keep a connection to the past, also compel one to acknowledge loss, a loss which here involved humiliation, murder, untold suffering. Could one want also to forget it? Could the next generation want to "skip" it? There is a double edge to memory.
Twelve children of Holocaust survivors - second generation mothers - were interviewed who lived in the greater New York Metropolitan area; 5 third generation (grandchildren of Holocaust survivors) old enough to articulate their feelings were interviewed as well. A snowball method was used to find these people.
The research involved an exploration of communication patterns of second generation with third generation, regarding Jewish identity, values, discussions about the Holocaust. The social role of becoming a parent forces one to confront what one wants the legacy of one's family history to be. Parents were asked about their feelings regarding their own upbringing. The third generation were interviewed for their feelings related to the Holocaust. Both second and third generation were asked specific questions about loss, feelings of vulnerability, trust, victimization.
The study of the interplay of the three generations gives the opportunity to outline the evolution of identity through generations of trauma; it also enables to examine family dynamics. Although parents are very conscious about not repeating the mistakes of their parents, and attempt to provide for their children what they didn't have themselves, children are often induced to adopt parental conflicts and fulfill their parents' wishes.
I will first present excerpts of my interviews with four third generation persons and with each of their respective parents; then I will discuss the themes which emerged from all the interviews.
Sam, a 22-year-old psychology student in NYC, wants to be a writer. He does not seem particularly concerned about the Holocaust. He indicates his mother, a second generation, maybe simultaneously a bit overprotective and distant, and he seems somewhat "floored" by his grandparents. "I know them as old, sitting in a den. In retrospect, it is pretty amazing to hear all these stories about how my grandfather used his wits while in the army, and how my grandmother escaped the Nazis during WWII by jumping off a train. I can't relate to their world though." He is critical of Judaism, of its arrogant view that Jews are the chosen people. They should beware of their vanity. He is attracted to Hinduism, although he also wishes for more Jewish traditional celebrations in his non-observant home and feels obligated to know about his culture. He doesn't see any particular danger for Jews at the moment. Jews are prosperous.
Nothing in his life now is impacted by the Holocaust. Until towards the end of the interview, when I ask if he feels invulnerable, oh no, he says, and it seems that at that moment an escape hatch has opened giving a glimpse of another side of him. Quite to the contrary, he thinks about death often. Why, I question. "I have fears of not being able to stand up and die for what I believe; anything can change at any time; I know about the inevitability of death. I know it comes from my own desire to accomplish and make a mark in my life; I am concerned with dignity. I could make a mark by dying as Jews did during the war, dying for what they believed in. It is my cultural, historical, manifest destiny."
His mother, whom I have previously interviewed, admits she forced herself to speak to me. She still cannot get herself to find out exactly what happened to her parents during the war. She has spent a lot of her life working, she was not much around at home; she is in the helping professions; she loves her children (she has two young daughters) but remains distant from them. In the middle of our short interview she starts to cry; I feel guilty I have intruded upon her although she volunteered to be interviewed, saying it was her obligation. She says, "I couldn't hear about the camps, I could never look at TV. Recently my father has written his memoirs. I couldn't read them. Very difficult. Their survival was so arbitrary ... It was important to be successful in some way.
"Both my parents have a strong life spirit, dance, play hard, generous, giving people, but there was always that oppressive thing about the war. If there was a Jewish holiday they always thought of the family killed. I felt they couldn't understand it was difficult for me. Father would cry at night ...
"When I had my first child I felt it was my reason for having survived ... I am not that close to my older son; I love him though." She repeats: "I guess it's the whole notion of loss and separation; my mother never let me get upset." She says of the values she teaches: "I consciously teach my kids nothing is their fault, but my daughter always says everything is her fault; she must have learned it from me. I taught them a sense of responsibility." There are few Jewish traditions in her family. Her husband, an American Jew, is not religious at all. She never spoke about the war with her son. "He never asked me," she says; grandparents talk about it too much. "When my father died," she says, "I never dealt with the loss, my son did, he was very comforting."
For this mother the past has gone mostly underground, too painful to be touched. For Sam present and past are disconnected, the Holocaust survives in a powerful if encapsulated ideology of sacrifice. In addition, Sam takes the role of mother's rescuer.
One woman, 19-year-old Tina, immediately launches into gory details about her grandparents' stay in, and escape from, Sobibor. She obviously knows the story by heart, and this is interesting for someone who for many years disavowed her Jewishness. The rest of the story comes in bits and pieces, it's about struggles with identity conflicts. When did she hear about the Holocaust? "I always knew about it," she says, "my connection to Judaism was that my grandparents had escaped a camp." She adds, "My mother was very spiritual: her connection to Judaism was through food and song," but still Tina was ashamed of the whole thing; she felt different from her schoolmates, hated when her mother imposed the religion on her by making her attend a temple; in school she didn't want to admit she was a Jew: "Part of me grew up wondering about the Holocaust, part of me wanted to throw up; I grew up as first generation in this country, and there was no family; it made me feel a little bit like a victim."
When a book on Sobibor came out her grandparents became more vocal, then she started to admit she was a Jew. Now Tina is proud of her roots she says, while two minutes later she announces she is still ashamed. A class on the Holocaust which she chose to attend in college has enabled her to find her Jewish identity. "I became more vocal about it; there were only nine people in the class, a very serious class; we met three quarters of an hour early and then went on to the teacher's house; it helped a lot. There was a transformation from having the story scare me to being a strong part of my history. Before I felt very ignorant. I always knew and I never knew." Again, she says, "I don't want to be ashamed of what I am, a white Jewish female. I want to understand how and why people were able to do these things to each other." She finds strength in understanding, knowledge is empowering, although she does feel vulnerable as a Jew. Her motivation? "Because the family was killed for it - that makes me want to stand beside it. I am proud of my culture.”
She is a funky Jew, she says. She relates to her mother's friend who is Jewish and gay. She herself is dating an African American. She wants to get rid of stereotypes. She is impressed by her grandparents' fortitude. She says, "I want to change the education here; I want to save something, to bring a major change." While growing up she felt overwhelmed by her mother who always spoke about the Holocaust as the black devil after her, a mother who endlessly shared with her the themes of her life-long therapy. Tina wants to know if she is affected by the Holocaust since it affected her mother so. The Holocaust is a fundamental part of who she is.
Her mother states she grew up while her children (she has two daughters) were growing up, that's how the Holocaust affected them - her story takes precedence of her children's story; she confirms she spent her life in therapy: she was always afraid of the world; she never knew why, although she states her own mother was never there for her; a mother described as cut off from her feelings since her first child died at age 2 when she was escaping Poland; a controlling mother who never grieved but who talked a lot about the rest of the family who died. Grandparents met in Sobibor and separated when Tina's mother was 12; she was very attached to her father; she relates her story of coming from Holland to the States where she never fitted in; she became part of a hippy culture in the dance world. She enjoyed the children she says, tried to make it as a single mother (her husband left her after two years of marriage). Seeing a movie on Sobibor helped her understand some of her fears; after that, she spoke about the war to students all over the States; first drawn to Eastern religions, she finally found a comfortable Shule which related Judaism to Eastern religions - "a place where people come in jeans and there are lots of gay folks; a place to come and contemplate." She attempts to follow some Jewish traditions. She has expressed her feelings about the war through dance. She feels she has accomplished a lot, put the children through college; she feels that her children healed something in their mother who can now give "love and boundaries." She feels she let her children develop their own ways. She never spoke to them about the war; she always said, "Go ask Grandmother." Now she says probably they knew too much at a wrong age.
Mother's adult struggle, coping with the lack of nurturing in her childhood, appears reflected in Tina's struggle with her Jewish identity and Holocaust background. Mother comes across as a fighter, so does Tina. Tina went from shame to meaning, to understanding of her Jewish identity, then transcending shame for a sense of responsibility.
For 20-year-old Lisa, what it means to be a Jew is that she cannot date non-Jews. That would be finishing the work of Hitler, she has been told by her family, and it would kill her grandparents, she repeatedly tells me during our interview. "I am not kidding," she adds, "I get the Holocaust, I am like Hitler if I date a non-Jew. It's 'huge.'" She also feels obligated to tell the world about the Holocaust, to do something about anti-Semitism. The word obligation appears many times in that context. She denies being traumatized though. It is interesting to note that she has for the past five years dated a Moslem Turk, so her mother told me - as a result of which she has been sent to a college away from town. She has a lot of respect for her Hungarian grandmother and her inner strength; she wants to own a cosmetics company like her grandmother used to have, that's part of her identity; Jewish traditions are also part of her identity. She is torn between being Hungarian and American; she wants to find the place where she can feel part of a community.
She says, "The only place I felt comfortable was in Israel, at the Wall; I was part of something that was bigger than me; it didn't matter I was not religious; I cried; for the first time in my life I felt I belonged somewhere. Maybe I'll retire there."
Her mother tells about her own chaotic childhood. She was born in Europe right after the war: she tells of the escape from the Poles who tried to kill her and her parents, how she was instrumental in saving her father, the DP camps where they felt unsafe - perhaps that makes her daughter both a second and third generation survivor; she describes her parents' struggles to make it in America; her anger at her mother who daily spoke of her time in Auschwitz; she also felt very sorry for her parents and afraid for her mother who used to get depressed and even tried to commit suicide. She knew they had a hard time coping, she knew they loved her a lot. They celebrated the Jewish holidays always in secret: father was still afraid. She tries to pass down traditions, although she is lukewarm about the religion; she wishes she could be Orthodox, there is logic and structure in that group and a sense of family. About their traumatic past she says, "I always told my children (she has a son as well) about the Holocaust; we would talk at night, but I don't know what their reactions were." She says to her daughter "All our relatives died, we can't afford to lose any Jews any more."
As a child she was always day dreaming in front of movie magazines; when her children were born she soon started them in show business; they were professional actors as kids; they put themselves through college that way. "I thought they could do anything." She is very proud of their success, they were "like phoenix from ashes," "it had to do with the Holocaust." She herself has had a successful career and lives an upper middle class existence. Her husband, an American Jew, owns a business. She knows she is a nervous mother but she is trying to be a different mother from her own, to give more confidence, praise, hugs. She taught values of honesty, social responsibility but also of individualism, of being unique. One senses in that woman the tension, the fear of losing her parents, of hurting them, her fight against all that, all anxieties she seems to have transmitted to her daughter. Mother's ambivalent relationship to her own mother appears reflected in her child's wish to escape a family net of Holocaust anxiety-driven relationships: Lisa says she will never allow her mother to call her the way grandmother calls mother ten times a day.
Lisa's 16-year-old brother refused to speak with me: he doesn't want to have anything to do with the topic.
Sixteen-year old Helen appears demure. She is an only child; she lives a very good life in a big, plush apartment; she is a very good student in a private school. The Holocaust she says is in the back of her head. "I am more remote from it; I think I always knew what it was; I don't remember finding out; it was some kind of war, I knew my family was hiding from the police; I knew it was bad. My grandfather usually tells his adventures, but not the sad stories." She is not sure what it means to be a Jew. Her mother was not brought up in a religious family. She feels isolated because of that. "In a temple we feel great to be with other Jews, it's like a family, but we feel isolated because we are not used to it." They only go occasionally. She still tries to distance Judaism from the Holocaust. "It shouldn't be about that being Jewish is something you are born into; it is your birthright to be Jewish; I feel good about it because my family is Jewish, it brings us together, it's special. I like the traditions, parents doting on children."
The only impact of the Holocaust, she feels, is in the way she thinks about her family and her religion; a family is precious; there is a sadness to it, she can't imagine a family in the past, it feels like a big hole. She is impressed by her grandfather, the strongest person in the world, and feels she must excel in life, be as good as him and her mother; they are invulnerable even if she isn't. She feels sorry for her mother she says because she thinks mother wants her to feel sorry for her. She somehow feels disconnected from the Holocaust while she knows she is supposed to feel connected. Interestingly she once was attracted to Christianity when she attended a Christian school, because of its values and sense of community, and no traditions of being persecuted. She is afraid to go to Germany but doesn't feel threatened in America as a Jew. Her view of Israel is non-committal. She feels she is an American.
Her mother explains why Helen's Jewish identity is so diffused. "When we grew up my parents never talked about "it." I asked and asked. They didn't want me to catch it. They wanted me to be assimilated." She only found out about her mother's past when she made her speak in front of her therapist before mother died of cancer. "It" included Holocaust events and Jewish traditions.
She wanted to be slapped by her mother when she started to menstruate. Mother refused: "My parents never taught me any religious practises." Her mother never discussed the topic with her though that was what Helen wanted. "She couldn't - she doesn't have the words to convey it, she says to me, so she made a bath with rose petals to welcome me into womanhood."
"I felt sorry because my daughter wanted to be part of the clan. I want to make her feel we are on a path; I taught her Yiddish; I told her stories about her grandfather." She trembled telling her the Holocaust story of her family when Helen was ill; she had never spoken about it before. The mother has complex feelings: "I didn't want to identify myself with the losers. I identified with the Germans, believe it or not. Firstly, I didn't want anybody to know about me; on the one hand it was a badge of honor; I also wanted to protect my parents' identity; I felt my parents were fragile."
She tried to provide a stable home; she tried to learn how to play with her daughter - her parents had never played with her. Clearly her daughter senses mother's total devotion to her - that seems to be the main attraction to Judaism, it somehow symbolizes family love.
Thus any third generation person I spoke to seems quite aware of his Holocaust origins, in arriving the life-decisions; he has strong feelings about Judaism, or feels he should have, and about belonging to the group, not to marry outside the faith, to continue the traditions. Or he may feel he should tell people about the war. Third generation people tend to see the grandparents as bigger than life, therefore models to emulate. They are people very concerned about making their mark in life, about being perfect. The Holocaust appears in their life as a symbol, a yardstick they carry around. The nature of the emotional involvement of these third generation people with their origins seems connected to the parents' own type of struggle with these origins. In the two second generation families who were told a lot about the war as children, their own (third generation) children struggle with overt conflicts about Judaism; in the second generation families where little was said, one third generation person feels confused about Jewish identity, and both feel a sense of disconnection.
Second Generation Parents: Jewish Identity
Attitudes towards Jewish identity and Holocaust heritage varied quite a bit. It was difficult though to establish the various dynamics at work. Five women who connected the experience of the war to gloomy feelings at home (whether they were bombarded by talks about the war or it wasn't discussed at all), when growing up tended to experience most difficulties in imparting their Jewish heritage to their children, and in talking about the war. Three other women who had negative attitudes towards their parents' way of bringing them up, nevertheless tried hard to have their children espouse their Jewish heritage. These women had experienced anti-Semitism as children in Europe after WWII. A perception of harmonious family relationships, on the other hand, helped (though it did not guarantee) a positive view of Judaism by these other second generation women. Perhaps it was the keen experience of their parents' pain which was felt differently in these people; for instance, one woman wanted to distance herself from it; another embraced her parents' pain as her own.
One important theme was the need for establishing Holocaust boundaries, i.e., the need many second generation had to distance themselves consciously from the Holocaust, and its burden, in bringing up their children. Some married non-Jews, some non-religious Jews. Three second generation distanced themselves from the Holocaust by opting for an "American life" for their children. After all, America is the place for "change," for "future"-oriented people. There is no third generation. Mrs. R. dislikes the idea of her daughter being Jewish as the grandmother would like; she doesn't want any connection to the Holocaust. She wants to weed out victim traits; life is uniquely in the present. When asked about how she speaks about the Holocaust to her children, one woman says it was "their war," not "mine." She will defer discussion. A second woman says, "I will eventually pass it on, in my way, not my parents'. I don't want my children overwhelmed." She too says "I don't want to take on the pain, to be responsible." But she is proud of her ancestors. Maintaining a certain distance from the Holocaust meant also to disentangle Judaism from its Holocaust connotations of death and destruction.
Mrs. L. says: "I want to give more a sense of tradition, not religion, remember the good and happy times." She found her own way to maintain her heritage; she has become famous for the cabbage she serves on holidays; she is proud to say the prayers in four languages; but she also wants her daughter to be part of American society; she celebrates Xmas with friends. Interestingly, her 6-year-old daughter doesn't want to learn the four questions for the Seder, and is opposed to joining the yeshiva her mother wants her to attend. Mother is upset about that.
Mrs. S. has not decided yet what to do about her son's Judaism, maybe she will take him to a reformed synagogue. But she wants to have nothing to do with Yom Hashoah, she emphasizes.
Right now they have an American life, many non-Jewish friends. She lights the candles for Hanukkah, and he celebrates Xmas at his friends'. He is 4 years old.
Some women perhaps made use of Christian holidays as a buffer between them and the Holocaust. Mrs. L. says "We gave Xmas presents to our daughter because we wanted to be American; my family was too Jewish, too different, too separate."
Too much empathy for parents' suffering can be problematic for third generation people. Mrs. D., for whom wartime events were "bedtime stories," expressed entire empathy for her parents' suffering: "My mother was soft-spoken, demure, I put myself in her place; I can't imagine her going through all that; I was sorry for the struggle she went through. I am angry at American Jews who did nothing." Growing up, she never had a sense of being different, "because we grew up in a circle of survivors, we had a bond." She had to fight the prejudice of a group of Italian American youths, and that also brought her closer to her family. Now she is a mother of two children, aged 3 and 5, and tells them they must not fight, they must love each other since their parents may not always be around . . . "If something happens to Mommy and Daddy, they are all they have in the world and must take care of each other. It is sadder to lose a person than a toy."
"If my son doesn't want to eat we tell him how Nanny had to eat potato peel, and was hit by bad people. I don't want to scare him. It was just part of my growing up. I don't know if I was scared." She believes she has not discussed the Holocaust with them. She says, "I don't want my relatives to have died in vain; I want my son to know his ancestors died for their religion. I want my children to know it can happen again." One can easily be concerned that unconsciously she is transmitting Holocaust fears to her children.
In trying to isolate variables responsible for positive feelings about Judaism the following came up: second generation who expressed pride in being Jewish were also proud of their parents, or of a relative. One woman expressed total empathy for her family's suffering. Two people called the events their bedtime stories, their fairy tales. It is possible that, in some cases, parents (first generation) happened to get along well. One woman expressed relief that her uncle allowed her not to hate the Germans (but not admire them), thus decreasing the need for ambivalence and conflict.
Conversely, the different dynamics behind negative feelings towards Judaism seem to include a combination of an unhappy home together with a feeling of being overwhelmed by parents' pain, the inability to enjoy "neutral holidays" (always reminded of someone who died), and availing oneself of the future outlook offered by American culture. Mrs. R., who was accused by her parents, because of her behavior, of managing to do what Hitler hadn't, that is, to kill them, became an ardent advocate of American life, of a focus on the future, of obliterating the past.
Two children of survivors objected to what they considered the hypocrisy in their parents' relationship to Judaism. How could they be so pious after suffering so much?
Evolution in Parents Regarding Judaism and Perception of Their Parents
It is essential to underscore that, no matter how conflicted those people were about being Jewish, they eventually felt they must in some way honor their Jewish heritage. A common theme was a fear of betraying the dead, or allowing Hitler to win in the end, together with the need not to sever one's roots. Mrs. S., whose son is undergoing the "normal American existence," expressed the wish that he would do better than she with his Jewish identity; she admits her love-hate relationship to Judaism.
Clearly, as their children grew up, the parents evolved in their views about Judaism, their own parents and their values; they eventually became stronger as Jews. However different their views about Judaism were from their original family, they still looked for a way to continue the heritage.
Helen's mother says "I have not developed the exalted part of being a Jew; I am afraid it separated the family from others; it caused my whole family to disappear." She struggled to develop a Jewish identity when she brought up her daughter. "We have Jewish jokes; the way we talk, like in cartoons, it is fun in an endearing way." She made sporadic but inconsistent attempts to join a synagogue. However, they talk about Judaism constantly at home.
One agnostic woman who married a Christian has made a film about the Holocaust to familiarize herself with her past. In this way, she can help her daughter understand her Jewish origins, and herself connect with them.
When Helen read Anne Frank, in the 4th grade, her mother very shakily told her about the war and of her grandparents' experiences. It was the first time she ever spoke about it. She wanted to tell her daughter that her grandparents were very strong, to be proud of them. The woman had been very ashamed of them when she was growing up and she saw them as victims. Mrs. L., always embattled with her survivor father because of his selfishness, now concedes his strength, which she feels she may have inherited.
Bringing up the War
Clearly many parents hesitated to bring up the war with their children. Some never spoke about it; some waited for school or the grandparents to do it, or for the children to ask questions. Some brought it up frequently, some in bits and pieces. But the children I spoke to all said "they always knew."
When the story of the war is told, there is a tendency to glamorize the ancestors. History often becomes adventure. Most parents don't talk about the violence, and want to protect the children more than they themselves had felt protected. As we saw above, Mrs. D. brought up the story of the Holocaust indirectly while educating her young children, and may have induced fears in her children of early loss of parents; others who avoid talking about it induce fears also. One mother didn't allow her son to listen to the grandfather who told his war story in a school. She was right to consider how her son might have interpreted this prohibition. Thus, although sometimes second generation people think they don't tell, they tell without telling.
Loss
The question of how second generation deal with death and separation is tied in with the whole question of bringing up the war. Mrs. L. avoids talking about death with her daughter. When the child's goldfish died, mother said it had gone back to the sea. In one particular family the topic of death is usually avoided, especially with grandparents. One mother expresses fears of separation, never allows her daughter to sleep at friends' houses. In contrast, another does not want to impart separation fears to her son in the way they were imparted to her.
Values
In general, second generation persons say they take the lessons of the Holocaust into account: they value tolerance, caring about people, doing your best, offering something. They want to trust others. Yet there is a mixed feeling about trust. As Jews, they continue to feel vulnerable and apprehensive.
Another important lesson of the Holocaust is standing up for oneself. Second generation persons were specifically asked how they educated their children about victimization and humiliation. Here are the ways different parents felt they had dealt with these issues:
Rejecting the third generation notion of the victimization of the Jews; here and now emphasis; future emphasis; taking on American culture. Such an outlook often engendered conflicts about Judaism.
Considering the positive aspect of Judaism; an involvement with Israel; seeing Judaism as a religion that affirms life. No betrayal of Judaism, carrying on defiantly.
Casting about for Jewish heroes for instance at Entebbe; showing one can fight back; talking about people who fought back in the Holocaust; teaching children the parents are strong, not victims.
Israel becomes the symbol of assertiveness and pride as a Jew.
Separating Judaism from the Holocaust.
Embellishing ancestor stories.
Immortality by securing fame for their children. Mrs. R. dreams of her daughter becoming the first woman President. Teaching children to assert themselves. (This takes the form of feminism in two families with daughters.)
Parenting
Not only did children of survivors' own upbringing affect how they transmitted their Jewish heritage to their children, it also affected their own parenting. While eventually children of survivors modified their views of their parents, many of them complained of the oppressive atmosphere of the household, the jarring experience of hearing about those who died, of experiencing their parents' despair and sense of mourning. Some considered parents weak and stupid, and many vowed they would be "different" parents to their children. It usually meant that they would give to their children what they had missed in their own childhood. One woman says "I want my children to have a perfect, normal American life, a dog, a cat, and to be everything for them my mother wasn't, fun, protective, optimistic." Her wish was subtly conveyed to her daughter: during the interview the daughter said she always has had to reassure her mother that she was a good enough mother, better than the grandmother. Mrs. L. says, "I want my daughter to get many gifts, not like me. I was so deprived as a child." She gets into arguments with her mother about giving presents to her daughter, while she was never given them herself. She also says: "My parents are too different; I don't know if I want her close to them."
An American life, non-Jewish friends, Batman, Spiderman, that is what Mrs. S. wants for her son. She says, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood; I laugh a lot with him. He's already a joker." When I question her about the joyful part of Judaism, she agrees "Yes, it probably can be; but I was not exposed to these parts; it would be nice, richer; I will look for a Reconstructionist synagogue. The values connected with honesty were not taught by my parents, and they were always unhappy and screaming. I don't want my son to be burdened; I keep my burdens to myself. I want to teach him compassion."
By the end of the interview, she seemed to have forgotten her earlier statements that home was a dreary place, and claimed she got her joy of life and compassion from her mother. Does this mean she has to deny any good in her parents in order to detach herself from their pain? Is this part of a gradual change in her perception of her parents?
Helen's mother had not felt "parented." She grew like a weed she says, and struggled to know how to be with her child in everyday matters, how to talk and play with her. "I work hard to have a stable home. We have breakfast together, dinner together. Maybe I have overprotected her and overcompensated; I helped Helen with her school work because that's what I needed from my parents. I want for Helen a place to be safe and to think; something in herself she can rely on, so she doesn't need me; a better way to live a life. I want to teach her not to be a victim." Interestingly, despite these goals, her own sense of deprivation was communicated to her daughter Helen: the child feels her mother wants her to feel sorry for her. In several cases, the third generation felt they had to take care of their parents' feelings, which originated in their upbringing.
Even when relationships with parents were positive, there were certain feelings, such as guilt and fear, the second generation did not want to hand down to their children.
Conclusion
The Holocaust continues to be an organizing vehicle for identity, although it is a memory fraught with conflicts. The unwillingness to take on the pain of the ancestors and the victimology of Judaism clashes with a fear of betraying one's heritage. There are conflicts in the perception of parents as weak or strong. Clearly many of the second generation needed to make fences between themselves and the Holocaust to alleviate the pain, to protect their children, and to create a life separate from their parents. They were all, however, concerned with preserving in some form their Jewish heritage. The conflict became the vehicle for idiosyncratic creative solutions, such as developing a very personal Seder, or making a film about the Holocaust.
The grandchildren interviewed perceive grandparents as bigger than life; it is interesting in the light of their parents' often negative view of their parents' pain that the third generation want to emulate these grandparents. Some third generation people express an awareness of their parents' vulnerability, and need to comfort them vis-à-vis the grandparents. This creates new burdens.
It seems that the continuous impact of Jewish origins on the third generation reflects the second generation's persistence in searching for a comfortable Jewish identity. Those third generation people interviewed seem to reflect their parents' own journey in their search for Jewish identity, and seem reactive to their parents' own Holocaust-related feelings and conflicts. For other, and younger, and uninterviewed members of the third generation, one can only speculate about the impact on them of the second generation's struggle to find a comfortable Jewish identity. It can be conjectured that they will have some conflicts to resolve about their Jewish identity, and some lingering fears and vulnerability.
Generally, victimology is rejected, and values of standing up for oneself are espoused, by second generation parents. Children are brought up to be strong, not victims. Issues concerning the humiliation of the Jews are handled variously. The second generation warn children against prejudice, and teach tolerance. Those who pass on the Holocaust heritage with no restrictions may be instilling fear in the third generation. For those who may want to repress their origins, life in America provides a perfect opportunity. American values, which emphasize now and the future, are conveniently available. Different Jewish groups allow for diversity and compromise, for instance Reconstructionism, and gay synagogues, among others. The memory of the Holocaust in these people lives on, transformed, part of a new identity.