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EmailEvery Life Remembered
Our Journey
Walk a Mile in Someone Else's Shoes: excerpts from a book by the Students of 6B and 6C, Ventura Park Public School, with Ilyse Lustig, Jordana Weisnstein, Tracy Jackson, Paula David and Lindsey Steinberg
Introduction : Our Journey
• How It Started and Why
• Speaking With Survivors
• Gathering Research
• Taking Action
• The Finale
Excerpts:
• The Alley of Fear
By: Andrei Borissenko
In Memory of Sheindel Abukovski
• It's a Small World…Or Is It?
By: Mitchell DeBora
In Memory of Marvin Mitchell
• Can't Forget The Past
By: Lianne Gluck
In Memory of My Zaide Lazer Gluck, who unfortunately I was never able to meet.
Introduction : Our Journey
How It Started and Why
At Ventura Park Public School, 6B and 6C wanted to explore the power of one individual's story and learn more about History.
Our teachers invited Child Survivors from the Holocaust to share their personal stories with us. Each session was filmed by a videographer so we could document this special journey.
After learning about the horrors of World War II, we decided that we wanted to spread awareness throughout the province about this terrible time. Out main objective was to make sure this never happens again!
Speaking With Survivors
In order to raise awareness of the atrocities of war, the grade sixes needed to learn as much as possible about what happened during this time period. We started off by speaking to Holocaust Child survivors: Joe Gottdenker, Sally Waserman, Anita Ekstein and Bob Czincz. They all shared their experiences with us in great detail. From their stories, we learned that many people were hidden during the war, many were just babies and many were sent to Concentration Camps.
Gathering Research
To further our knowledge and make this project even more meaningful, we needed to study this period in history. Our teachers took us on a trip to the Holocaust Centre of Toronto. While there, we had the opportunity to heat a personal story from another Holocaust Survivor and learn from the display of pictures and artifacts from the war. It was a most memorable experience.
Taking Action
Once we heard the stories of the Holocaust Survivors, we know that we needed to take action and share with others what we had learned. After brainstorming together, we decided to create a Multi-Media Educational Package called Every Life Remembered that could be used in schiils, libraries, museums and community centers. So that it would appeal to everyone., we thought we would present our message in a variety of forms.
- Story Writing
Each student brought in and old shoe. That shoe became the base of the main character. Paula David and our teachers told us to “put out selves in the shoe” of the person who could have worn it. Some of us became a righteous gentile, a victim, and even a Nazi. We then wrote historical fictional stories about this character experiencing a war. To honor those victims whose lives were lost, we dedicated our stories to people who lived through the war.
We still needed to add more to our multi-media teaching tool…
2. Music
Working with Robbie Roth
We brought in singer/songwriter Robbie Roth to help us write the perfect song! We talked about chords and the mood we wanted to convey. Next, we started to write the lyrics with Robbie and out teachers. It took us a few sessions, but we are so proud of the final product!!!
The piece is entitled Every Life Remembered and it is based on the stories we wrote.
Hearing the song makes us all think back to the tragedies of War.
3. The Studio
On May 4, 2004 our classes took a trip to VESPA Recording Studio to record our song Every Life Remembered . We were pleasantly surprised at the quality of the studio and enjoyed the company of the staff at VESPA. All the students were ecstatic when they heard their voices being recorded. This was a once in a lifetime experience that we will NEVER forget!
4. Bringing Our Stories To Life
For the art aspect of our project, we analyzed our stories and picked the scene that represented and gave the viewer a good idea of the setting, climax and mood of our stories. Using the shoes that were given to us, we created representational drawings of the thoughts and feelings of our main characters in our stories.
5. A Walk In Someone Else's Shoes
To bring further relevance to our project, we did drama exercises taking on the role of a main character in our stories. We learned the technique of tableau and formed groups to produce out own freeze frames depicting the character, plot and themes of our stories. Our videographer was there to document the entire process.
6. A Once In A Lifetime Experience
On Monday April 19, 2004, our classes were invited to attend the Holocaust Memorial Service at Baycrest Terrace, Home for the Aged. We attended a candle lighting ceremony and sang songs of Peace. The ceremony was filled with rears and sorrow, but in the end the Baycrest residents were pleased with our participation. It was yet another memorable experience for us.
The Finale
Preparing for our long awaited Launch, our two classes created computer presentations, media kits, programs, invitations, speeches, and display boards. Lindsey worked on the book around the clock, Zack busily edited the documentary video, Robbie mixed and put the final touches onto the CS, Paula prepared the Baycrest residents, and our teachers worked non-stop in order to make sure that this al came together!!!
Our Project has been something really special in our lives and we have learned the fundamental lessons of empathy and tolerance. We want to make sure the Holocaust never happens again.
We had a fun and educational time working on this endeavor. A special thanks to our teachers and sponsors for without them, this could not be complete.
This has been the experience of a lifetime, and now we look forward to sharing it with YOU!
Joe Gottdenker, Child Survivor, Ventura Park Students and Paula David
Excerpts:
The Alley of Fear
By: Andrei Borissenko
In Memory of Sheindel Abukovski
I was like any other thirteen-year-old Jewish child and I had a living family that really cared for me. My family would try their best to fulfill my every dream and answer most of my questions. I still remember that weekend waking up surrounded by a freshly painted dark blue room where I had an empty shelf and a dirty desk. My mama always asked me to take some of the stuff from my desk and put it on the shelf to look more organized, but I never did it. The desk was shimmering from the sunlight, which was coming from my window, and the sunlight shone right into my eyes, blinding me.
As I rose from my bed, I started to hear the footsteps going upstairs. At first I thought it was my dad coming to my room to wake me up in the bright sunny morning, but I was wrong. Instead he was waking up my little brother, Marcus, and right away I heard him say enthusiastically, “Wakey, wakey!”
I couldn't hear any more because I was too far away and dad had closed the door. I was still in my dark green pyjamas. All I knew was that they were the most comfortable pyjamas ever and I never wanted to give them away to Marcus when I grew out of them.
When I slowly crept down the creaky stairs, I went to the kitchen where my mom was boiling fresh kasha for all of our family to eat, just as we had done for almost six years. Papa and I hated it but Marcus loved it and that's all that mommy and daddy cared about. They told him it would make him big and strong. When I entered the kitchen doors, I heard out food rumbling in the pot just waiting to be gulped, as the vegetable oil made the final touch and it was then ready to be eaten.
As I leisurely made my way through the kitchen, my mother spotted me. And from the look on her face, I knew that she was going to shout something in my direction, however, nothing came from my mom's mouth, but rather I saw her crumpled face then it came.
“Samton, is your brother up yet? We had plans in a couple of hours, and he better get ready because his friend George will be here any moment now!” she yelled, just as I was coming up with a reasonable answer, a tiny voice behind me screeched. “I'm up, I'm up, sorry Ma.”
It was Marcus and after only a quick glance in his direction I could see he was already fully dressed and ready for whatever he and mom and his little fiend George were going to do. I saw he was wearing a silver baseball cap and a green t-shirt with a polish flag on it. He was very proud to represent his country. Not many people were like that.
After my dad entered, he wanted to turn the radio to hear the recent news, but then he remembered that I had broken it. This had happened right in front of him. I had been trying to get a couple of cookies for Marcus and me when I accidentally let it fall. He narrowed his eyes on me and then sat down on his large plastic chair that always squeaked when he sat on it. We all sat down and started to eat until Dad broke the silence.
“I was thinking since it's Saturday we should do something fun with the whole family,” my dad began. “We should… ”
He was suddenly cut off by Marcus, whose little mouth was full of hot kasha. “Sorry dad, but mom promised to take me and George to the cool new attraction park that opened about a week ago!” He sounded very excited and I was too.
“Can I come too mom? It sounds really fun and I always wanted to see it.” I quickly tried to get out of dad's usual torture of playing checkers for a few hours.
“Sorry dear, but we had to order the tickets to get in about a month ago when it opened,” my mom answered, “The place has been really crowded lately.” Then she looked at me and dad “have fun boys!” she chuckled. Then she and Marcus started to walk out into the fresh morning and soon I couldn't see them because of the blinding sunlight.
Today, instead of playing checkers, dad decided to take the radio to the repair shop, and while we were walking around we saw some of dad's friends and mine. They didn't even notice us, as they were too busy having fun or doing something important. All we were doing was getting our radio fixed, “Oh boy!” what fun, I thought.
When we entered the shop we saw Mrs. Kouthroth who fixed things like radios and watches. She recognized me right away because of the many things I had broken. I always brought them there to get them repaired.
“Tomorrow,” she began, “come back and I'll give Samton your radio. It'll be two Zlotys.”
When we got home Marcus and my mom were both already there, and then my mom started, “When we got to the Attraction Park from in the city f Opolskie there was a sign, and that sign read ‘ NO JEWS ALLOWED' in big bulging letters and in smaller ones it read ‘If you made a reservation we are sorry, but you are no longer allowed a refund since we can not trust you anymore. Good Day.' It was horrible. Not only did they take away our vacation, but they also took our money from us. Lets just have a nice sleep. Maybe this will all blow over overnight. ”
“This is horrible!” my dad sounded very worried. “What should we do?”
“There's nothing we can do,” my mom said and my dad frowned at this. “It's a very strong thing, but when we asked about it they said ‘you can't fight it'!” Marcus looked like he was going to be ill, but he still didn't say a word. He didn't look like he understood all of this.
“Let's just go back to sleep,” my dad suggested. “Try to sleep, please.”
The next morning nothing blew over. My dad went without me to get the radio to see what was happening in Europe. I wondered why that sign was there and who had put it there, bur I knew that something was wrong and that I would find out soon. After that, there was a loud knock on the door, we were all scared to answer it until I bravely opened the door and it was dad, running the radio. Marcus and I were sent upstairs, but I stayed behind a wall and listened. When we all heard the name “Adolph Hitler”, we gave the radio our ears.
I found the next few weeks extremely hard to live through. Nothing was the same anymore, when I came to my school Pareota P.S., the next Monday, they told me to go home right away because they didn't accept Jews like me anymore. At first I thought it was cool because I didn't have to go to school anymore, but then I realized I wouldn't see my friends anymore and I thought this was terrible.
The next morning when I woke up I decided to get dressed, just in case I had to go to school of this whole thing blew over. I went and opened my closet and I noticed a Jewish star on all of my clothing. I thought this was some kind of April Fool's joke, since it was April 1 st , but when I went downstairs, my parents and Marcus were already there, eating something strange. They all had long and serious faces and they were all wearing the same Jewish stars on their shoulders and chest.
“What happened? What's with the Jewish stars? Where is the kasha? Is this an April Fool's joke?” I started asking. Then my mom and dad both inhaled deeply.
“Charles, you start. Tell Samton what's happening,” my mom told my father.
“Samton” my dad tried to think of what to say next, “your mother…well, because we are Jewish…got fired from her job. And now” he tried to chuckle but only broke off to a cry.
“We're losing money. In order to survive we can only afford this cheap cereal. The Jewish stars are so the German's can identify us from the others so they can treat us however they want. And I wish this was- ” he finished.
“Was what Pa?” asked Marcus who wasn't listening.
“An April Fools' joke, son. I wish it was an April Fools' joke.”
My dad cried softly, then I left without eating my breakfast. “I'm going out for a few minutes, mom” I said.
“Be careful our there!” was the reply. As I walked though town I noticed a park. There I saw some friends from school and I wanted to talk to them.
“Hey Danny, John is that you?” I asked, “How are you d…”
For about the hundredth time that week I was cut off, bur this time nor by Marcus, but by Danny's mom who was driving around the corner when she noticed a yellow star on my chest. ”
“Danny! You know better than to talk to Jews,” his mom glared at me with angry eyes then yelled at Danny in a firmer tone, “Get in!” Danny did as he was told. I don't think he had a choice.
“I think I'd better go too. I don't want to get in trouble when someone sees me here with you,” John whimpered. “I'm really sorry Samton.” And he just ran off making me feel like no one was my friend anymore. I decided to slowly walk around the park just so I could think this through.
“Hey you-young man! I heard what happened with you and your friend's mom,” This man was tall and in a very unfamiliar uniform, with a German flag in the shoulder. What is this uniformed soldier doing in Poland? Then something struck me, German, Hitler-it was a nazi! And I couldn't lie-he had seen and heard me talking to Danny's mom.
“Kid! So you're Jewish huh? Well I', pretty sure you are,” the man's voice was very deep. It seemed to fit the description of my grandfather's, but yet it couldn't be him. My grandfather died a long time ago in World War I, and besides this guy looked way younger that even my dad!
“You daydreaming or something?” he shrugged. This annoyed me.
“What's the problem? ” I finally started. Now I felt a little confused. “Did I do something wrong…” I paused, “…Officer?” he narrowed his large eyes right at me.
“I'm guessing you have pretty bad eyesight because right at the front entrance to the park there was a sign. It said in pretty large letters a message that should go straight to your head pal!” the soldier didn't look very happy. Then I started to remember when I had entered the park to see Danny and John. I had been too exited to see them and I didn't even bother to look a little to the right to see the large sign. Now I didn't even bother to remember what it said because it was pretty obvious- “No Jews Allowed”. This was the same message as the one at the attraction park that my mom and Marcus had gone to. Now the man seemed to be very mad.
Suddenly he shouted “GET OUT NOW! Before I change my mind!” so I did, and I sprinted out of the park heading for home.
That night we shared twp potatoes for the whole family. It was not the proudest moment in the Cerzenero family. Dad told us how he was fired from his job at the paper mill and mom informed us of how we were running out of kerosene for the stove. Bur all that really mattered to us was that we were still together, and more importantly alive. Later that night, as we were sitting in out never-before dirty kitchen, listening to the radio for an update on this…this frightening war, there were four loud knocks on our wooden front door.
Dad came closer and he mumbled, “Who is it?”
“Charles Cerzenero?” a surprisingly high voice asked from behind the door.
“Who is this?” my father repeated, unsuccessfully trying to have a tougher voice but failing because of his fear for all of us.
“Open the door, Jew!”
This was another man's voice, a much lower one, and it seemed just to flow though the door as of it wasn't there.
My dad hesitated and said, “Uh, you got the wrong family. No Jews here.” At this, we were really surprised; dad never lied before, and especially about our religion. This made me feel just awful. And then it began again.
“Liar!” the man with the high voice yelled, and the door was getting banged a lot. It didn't look like its rusty old hinges could hold out much longer. Dad backed away as if he were about to run. Then he ran to the back to get the old axe.
“Let's get out of here!” my mom suggested.
“Go upstairs, I'll take care of this.”
As we went upstairs, we heard the door collapse and mom dial for help, but our phone just wouldn't work. Just then, we heard the drop of an axe…and a gunshot, which made mom collapse on her knees and cry.
“Foolish man,” chuckled the man with a deep voice, Then I heard weeps of pain and through the upstairs' window, I saw my bleeding father, shot in his left arm being slowly dragged to a large van, as he lost a lot of blood though the injured shoulder.
“What happened? Where is daddy?” Marcus asked politely as if he had slept throughout the whole thing. Or maybe he just couldn't understand yet, maybe he was too young.
“don't worry, Marcus. You are just too young to understand,” whispered softly. “We will be all right. Don't worry. Samton, keep Marcus safe no mater what.” She looked really serious and scared. Then she hugged us and signaled us to bed, but that night we couldn't sleep. The worry was too great.
The next day, no one talked, and after dinner Marcus and I heard mom crying about dad in her room.
“I still don't get it!” Marcus began. “Why did those big men take daddy?” Marcus looked confused.
That night I crept to his room and when I got there, he was there, sitting on his messy bed, waiting for me. As the clock downstairs chimed midnight, I noticed how it was almost impossible to see in this room, so I felt for a place to sit.
“Are you going to tell me what is going on or not?” Marcus pleaded. “All right, all right here's what's happening. There is an awful man, Adolph Hitler, who hates Jewish people so much that he and the men that follow him, who are called Nazis are killing Jewish people.”
Just then I realized my mistake. Marcus now crumpled face filled with tears and it looked as though he was about to drown in them. But I'd do the same thing if I were that young and just had my father taken away by men who wanted to kill him, and I did. Then I quietly left for my room.
While I was getting into my bed, I heard my mum going into Marcus' room to check up on him. Around five minutes later she left. For the first time, in what felt like a week, I fell asleep. Now we were not allowed to go outside at all, and more and more rules started to pour on us, and when someone did, they paid the ultimate price-the price on one deserves to pay.
A few days later, something very familiar happened again. The same two voices that we heard more than a week earlier called again, but this time not for my dad, but for my mom, who surrendered herself peacefully.
“Take care of your brother,” she whispered to me and then left with the big men. This made Marcus fall sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to do the same thing. As I stood up early next morning, without any sleep, just as the sun went up, I walked over to Marcus' room and told him what we had to do.
“What?!” Marcus replied to my idea of leaving home.
“Marcus, we have nothing to stay for here. Let's go!” I yelled at him. He argued, but eventually we packed food and a little clothing in two small suitcases and decided to try to blend in, in an average community in which there would be many places to hide.
For two whole weeks we were able to survive on the food we packed, but then it was time to resort to anything we could find, even in garbage cans. About a month after our departure from out home, we were looking for a place to spend the night in a strange abandoned building.
There, from the first floor we saw a Nazi shooting a Jewish man who was foolishly hiding in an alley with only one exit. Poor guy, I thought, but Marcus and I just had to carry on.
Over the next year of terrible life in the downtown of our hometown that we though we knew before the Nazis came, we witnessed many deaths of many Jewish people who were found by the Nazis and murdered in front of our very eyes. Food was getting harder to get as people became greedier and needier. So we had to search for food and protect ourselves.
After about two years after our departure, we, as foolish as that old man we saw die two years before, walked into a dirty alley that had only one exit. The alley smelled of rotten food and rats. We entered and found some dirty potatoes, just as we heard the familiar proud footsteps of a man. We knew it was a Nazi.
“Oh NO!” Marcus panicked, “it's a Nazi, and I'm pretty sure he's coming our way!”
I couldn't see because of the dark, bur I could tell that Marcus was sweating. This may have happened to us before, but the last time as I remember had been a little bit different.
It had been around eight months earlier, in the middle of summer. We were searching in a different alley in the early morning for something to eat. If I remember properly that alley had one exit just like this one, bur we still had a lot of strength/ as we were eating some cabbage, we heard a few footsteps followed by a few familiar words in German and a “ja”, which meant “yes”. We had heard that before and when a few Nazis entered a dark alley, they found nothing much.
After we started hearing footsteps we saw a fire escape late and by using a few boxes and teamwork we were able to reach it and pull it up before the Nazi came. Unfortunately, this time there was no real strength in us.
This time it was completely different. We were tired, hungry, weak, and unprepared. It appeared that this time the Nazi was alone but there was a slight chance another was waiting outside. With a glance around me, I observed my surroundings. I noticed there were no boxes or fire escape either, just a few garbage cans and water pipes. Oddly, there was a street lamp, which I had never seen in a closed alley like this before. While the footsteps grew closer and closer I started to think more and more.
“Maybe we should try to sneak around him?” Marcus nervously suggested.
“No, I think he had a flashlight. He'll find us for sure,” I replied and thought for a little while. Then an idea popped into my head: the pipes, of course! “Quick!” I whispered and pointed at the pipe furthest from the street lamp. It was facing the side of the only exit and entrance where the Nazi was coming from.
When we reached the water pipe and stared to climb, Marcus went first, if he fell, I would be able to catch him. As he made his way up the pipe, I heard the old metal creak and I realized it would not hold another person. I also realized that Marcus was not climbing fast enough to get away from the nearing Nazi.
I knew then what I had to do-stall. I knew that because if I let Marcus climb on, he would be spotted, and if I climbed too the pipe would fall down and we would both be found and killed. Marcus eyeballed me.
“Go!” I mouthed, and he did. The nazi was almost visible and I marched towards him. I looked back to see how far Marcus had climbed, bur no, Marcus was still where he was and he lad a surprised and scared look on his face.
“Are you crazy?” he exclaimed. I quickly and quietly signaled him to keep on climbing. Then I heard the Nazi say something in German, I went around the corner and when he noticed me he laughed. When he did that I saw how his fat cheeks jiggled, and I found that sickening.
He walked towards me, empty-handed, with a large grin on his face. Then without a thought, I sprinted with my arms in front of him. Just as I reached him, it felt like I was stopped by his enormous belly, but actually he grabbed me. As I struggled to get free, I heard an unpleasant sound coming from my left.
That sound was the sound of the water pipe that Marcus had been climbing, collapsing. The worst part of it was that he had almost climbed it to the very top. The nazi let go instantly because of his fear, and I raced to save Marcus from the deadly fall of at least six stories. As I got to the position to catch him. I thought that this was just crazy.
The pipe was speeding down right at me and the Nazi was tight in front of me, closer to the base of the pipe than me. I ran because I couldn't handle it, even if I tried to catch Marcus I'd get crushed. Just before Marcus hit the pavement, the pipe hit the Nazi's head, but the hollow insides didn't manage to knock him out. The sudden impact on the pipe made Marcus fly about to meters in the air. Then when he landed, I heard two loud snaps. Marcus' legs were broken and now I would have to carry him to safety.
When I picked Marcus up and started to turn to the exit of the alley, I heard gunshots coming from behind me. Then I realized that I was holding Marcus on my back. But before I could put him in from of me, I felt the pressure on my lower back. I knew what it was, but I kept running with Marcus on my back.
After a few quick turns, and the help of the good old fire escape ladder, I escaped the Nazi and hid on the rooftops from that day on, where I found safety. But I also found my dead brother.
Twenty years later, long after the war was over, I found my mother, who, it turns out know a soldier in the concentration camp. That soldier let her go. As for my dad, my mom told me that he sadly died in a gas chamber, half a year after we lost him from out family. A few years ago, I wrote the book on all that the Cerzenero family had to go though during the war. Now, I have gathered some of my past friends and surviving relatives to remember Marcus and the things he had to go through.
“I'd like to say,” I began to talk to the crowd, “that after twenty two long years, this is the first time I feel like I'm home. Thank you.”
I took a deep breath and enjoyed the freedom that I had.
It's a Small World…Or Is It?
By: Mitchell DeBora
In Memory of Marvin Mitchell
“Ahhh!!!!…What a wonderful day,” I muttered to myself, as I woke up. it was a magnificent morning and the warn, soothing, not to mention, blinding sun, peered through my large circular farm side window in my bedroom. It then ricocheted off of the bright green wallpaper forcing me to wake up. I crawled out of my warm comfortable bed and looked at the teal shirt. Next, I went over and checked my calendar, February 28 th . Oh my God!!! How could I have forgotten? It's my tenth birthday today, but where was mama to wake me up and sing Happy Birthday? I walked down the wobbly ladder from my loft bedroom and glanced around the large pillar in the middle of our house and surprisingly saw the front door open.
I walked out the door to see my mom assisting my dad out of the car. My face tensed up. I felt butterflies in my stomach and my mind was spinning in circles, wondering what was going on.
“What's happening, Mom?” I cried.
“Your father came back from his hiking trip in Germany and, his leg…His leg had to be amputated.” She said in hesitation.
My smile fell of my face. The tension disappeared and all that was left was my curious mind, wondering how and what happened to his leg and if he would be all right. Feeling a bit relieved that Father was conscious and alive, I sprinted over to his right side and with all of my strength, mama and me helped him inside.
Mama made a pot of delicious warm soup for father, to revive him. Father looked a bit rejuvenated and started to speak. He said that he wanted to tell us how he injured his leg. His voice cut through the depression in the room and his bright blue eyes looked at me and he started, “Augustus Manson, is his name.” He said in a broken voice. “We were hiking on a very steep part of the mountain, his rope got stuck and he could no longer climb. I went over to him and attempted to attach him to my harness. However, on the way I tripped on a long thick branch. Further up the mountain, there was a large boulder resting on the end of the same branch. The chain reaction of my leg hitting the branch shifted the boulder and it rolled onto my leg.”
There was a long pause, until I unexpectedly heard my over optimistic mother.
“Well back to better things,” Mother interrupted, “why don't you open your birthday present from me and Papa? We hid it at the bottom of the large closet in our room.” I wiped the tears off my face and in anticipation of what the gift could be. I went up to get it. When I brought it downstairs and placed it sturdily in front of my papa, who was sitting in his favorite burnt orange love seat. I ripped the present open and didn't know what it was.
“What is it mama?” I questioned.
“It's called a scooted Freddie, it's like a bicycle, bur you push it instead.”
“Wow!” I cried. “Can I go try it our?”
“Sure,” mother exclaimed, “papa and I knew that your old bike broke so we decided to get you this.”
“Thank you!”
I rode my new scooted over to Bobby's house. He has been one of my closest friends ever since I met him in kindergarten. He got his bicycle, while I explained to him all the features of my new scooter. Next, we went to Jinni's house. She's my closest female friend. I had also known her since kindergarten. Then we all rode out bikes to the park. I love the park because it's so large and full of hills, so it's a lot of fun on bikes and scooters. Before we left Jinny grabbed a couple of her mother's famous homemade cookies. Everything was so perfect, nothing could go wrong. The sun was still shining, the cookies were scrumptious, and I was with my two best friends. We were all really excited because we were about to go down the large hill at the entrance of the park,. We stopped in our tracks when we saw a large sign that read, “NO JEWS ALLOWED. ”
I was disgusted. I didn't know how somebody could be so racist and put up a sign like this. Maybe there was something I didn't know. A mew mayor may have taken over this area that doesn't like Jewish people?
Jinny, Bobby, and I were stunned for a few minutes as we stared at the large, yellow sign. Finally, we silently rode away. Nobody spoke, but we all read each other's minds and knew that we had to talk to an adult.
“My house,” I muttered, but there was no reply. As we got closer to my house, it got a bit smoggy. A scent filled the air. I looked up and saw a large cloud rising from the ground, but little did I know it was not a cloud. It was a tunnel of smoke.
“What is it?” we all questioned.
“Jinny, Bobby, come on, I think a local house is on fire, let's go quick,” I yelled.
“Okay,” they both screeched, as they were trying to speed up. we were going extra fast. We followed the smoke and about five minutes later we got to it.
My eyes opened, they felt so heavy and I could barley keep them open. Where was I? What? Why was in Bobby's house? But how? I got up to look around me. But I couldn't. oh my God, was I paralyzed? How did this happen? Why don't I remember anything? Where were my parents? I heard a voice. It was a faint voice, but I could still tell that it was Bobby's.
“Where am I? Where are my parents? Are they here, Bobby? I can't tell because I can't move my head.” I cried.
“No they are not,” Bobby replied. “And I am afraid that they never will be again.”
“What?”
Again, I found myself waking up. Oh my God, I must have passed out or gone into a coma again, but this time I remembered what Bobby had told me. I heard a voice again.
“Stay with me, Freddie,” Bobby's father Sol Said.
“Freddie, I am going to need you to stay up and nt pass out every time I explain something to you.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I'll try.”
“Freddie, Bobby and I are going to help you into the kitchen, okay?”
When I got into the kitchen, memories came rushing back to me. I remembered again what Bobby told me and that caused me to fall into a daze and I probably would have passed out again until Bobby yelled, “No!!!” and it woke me up.
“Well, first things first,” Sol said. “Let's feed you. You must be hungry. I know that I would be, if I had been in a coma for six days.”
Wow, seven days I can't believe it's been that ling. I ate a couple of pancakes, but this slight activity made me extremely tired. So I went back to sleep on the couch.
A few hours later I found myself again staring at the off white ceiling. A bit later I got up and…Oh my god, I got up.
“I am no longer paralyzed,” I chanted to myself. With all my strength, I got off the couch and slowly walked into the kitchen. Bobby saw me and helped me into a chair.
“Freddie, it is great that you can move,” Bobby said. “Well, I guess you are wondering what happened to you.”
“Yes, can you please tell me?”
“About a week and a half ago, we went to the park and saw a large sign that said, ‘NO JEWS'. Then we saw smoke and realized that your house was on fire, you were stunned and practically rode into the burning house on your new scooter. Jinny and I got you our and that would explain the pin that you have from the large red burns on your arms. Now, I guess you could use some good news. Freddie, if you would like to, my family will be honored to adopt you.”
“Sure,” I screeched.
“But only under one condition.”
“What?”
“That you will convert into Christianity”
“Well, you are my best friend, and I need a family,” I contemplated. “So I will.”
Time went by. I was adopted into my new family. My third degree burn healed over the course of about a year. My joints healed, and I was back to normal, at least on the outside. If you took an x-ray, you would see nothing wrong. The only things that were broken were my heart and soul.
1939 was the year of my fifteenth birthday. I had a big celebration with my new Christian family. We ate delicious birthday cake. Things started to feel normal again. Later at dinner, Father interrupted to tell us something. He started by saying that I t doesn't relate to us. Next he followed with a name. “Adolf Hitler is his name. Again, I will remind you my children that this has nothing to do with us. When mamma and I were listening to the radio during some of our leisure time we heard about this man. Well children…Do you know what the word ‘racist' means?” Sol questioned.
“No” Bobby and I replied.
“It's a word that describes a trait. Adolf Hitler is a racist, because he has excluded certain people, of certain races, like Jews. Not only that, he wants to demolish and torture them by making them work. It is nor only Jews.”
“So pretty much, it means he's a bigot, right father?”
“Yes that's right. Let's get back to dinner,” father suggested.
We were having homemade chicken soup, sweet potatoes, and roasted chicken. When I took my first taste of the chicken soup, tears filled my eyes. The soup tasted exactly like the chicken soup that my biological mother used to make. When dinner was done, we cleared the table, and Bobby and I went up to our bunk beds to look at some of our magazines.
We were both reading quietly until we heard a large ‘BANG!'. It was the sound of the big heavy door slamming into the wall. Bobby and I immediately ran downstairs to see what had happened. We saw a man dressed in an unusual uniform. He said that he was a soldier and asked to see all of our birth certificates. Mother, scared of his large shot-gun ran and got them. He skinned though them all and particularly stopped at mine. “Are you Jewish?” he asked.
“No. Well, yes, sort of,” I said.
“Well then I guess we are going to have to do it the old fashion way,” he mumbled.
“What's that?”
“We are going to check if you are circumcised.”
“Yes, I am” I admitted trying to prevent the check in anyway possible.
“My name is Hussar Mandson and I am ordering you to come with me to my truck.'
A million thought rushed though my head at that moment. Firstly, where was I going and then I remembered what father had told me at dinner. Next, I tried to think of a plan to prevent myself from going with him and according to what my father said they would kill me. At the same time his name was echoing through my head Mandson, Mandson, Mandson. Why sis that name sound so familiar? Finally, I remembered that the man that father had saved on the hiking trip was, “Augustus Mandson.” They had the same last name. Now, should I take the chance and ask the loaded and heavily armed solider, who would think nothing of shooting me, if he was related. That could be my ticket out, or that could be my ticket to heaven. I figured that if my father had the courage to go up to Augustus Mandson and save him while risking his life, then I could find the courage to save my life, so I did.
“Hussar, do you, by any chance, have a relative names Augustus Mandson?”
“I do,” he said, while turning his gun to me.
I was relieved, but now I had to wonder if he would actually care that my father saves his life, because after all her is talking peoples' lives without caring about them. I pushed my luck and said, “Hussar, Augustus was on a rock climbing trip and my father saved him.'
He walked up to me and looked like he was about to beat the living daylights out of me. When he was about a meter away from me, he dropped his gun and gave me a huge hug.
“I apologize for this raid. Say thank you to your father for me.” He said in embarrassment and he stomped out of the house. He came to a halt and begged, “but please don't tell anyone.”
“Okay” I agreed.
The whole family was shook up. “Everybody go to bed,” my father groaned. Bobby and I went up to our room and went to sleep.
“Ahhh!!! No!!! Don't take me!!!”
I was thrown into a small truck, and surprisingly I saw my mother and father.
They didn't answer.
Before I knew it we were dropped off at a large place with many temts and huts. My parents weren't talking. I didn't se the drover of the car, therefore I didn't know who took us. Everything was happening so fast. My heart was beating wildly. From the camp, they took us to a long river and lined my parents and I along it with many others around the perimeter. Suddenly, a man started shooting with a machine gun at random fire. I felt a bullet hit me. I felt forward and just as I was about to hit the water, BOOM! My eyes opened and I jumped up.
Oh my God! Was that a nightmare? I looked outside and saw the sun rising. I got our of bed and went downstairs. Surprisingly, I saw my dad.
“Why are you up so early, Daddy?”
“Well I heard someone yelling and it woke me up.”
“Sorry about that Dad, that was probably me because I had a horrible nightmare.”
“Oh that's all right sweetheart, sweetheart.”
Tears ran down the side of my face and eventually I started to cry.
“What's wrong Freddy?”
“My parents” I moaned. And that was when my father gave the best advice that I had gotten in my whole life.
“Freddy, something horrible happened to you and that has left you emotionally scarred; however, you can't sit here feeling sorry for yourself forever. Bur most of all, make your parents proud.”
Can't Forget The Past
By: Lianne Gluck
In Memory of My Zaide Lazer Gluck, who unfortunately I was never able to meet.
SLAM! I closed the wooden front door. I just walked home from school with m twin sister Gretel. I inhaled the fresh smell of dough and hoped that mama waited for me to braid the challah. It was Friday and I couldn't wait for my aunt and uncle to arrive for dinner. I could already taste the roast potatoes, baked carrots, and chicken that mama was preparing for dinner.
“Hi!” my brother said trying to catch his breath. He often got home late from school because he was playing soccer with some of the boys in his class. I was helping mama set the table when papa walked in followed by my aunt and uncle.
My pap was a tailor. People called him to order clothing. He seemed really excited when he said “I got 17 new orders today!” a few minutes later we settled down to dinner after making the blessings over the candles, wine, and the fresh challah which I got to braid. We always had the same Shabbat dinner. We would talk about our week at school and work. All of a sudden, my papa had a serious look on his face. He looked at mama and said, “a strange thing happened today, I got a huge order, 3000 yellow stars with the word Jude printed on them.” Mama and papa exchanged a worried look, which I noticed had been happening over the past few weeks.
“Yum! Dinner was delicious mama,” I commented as I started clearing the dinner table.
The next day, I woke up excited because in a couple of days, it was going to be Chanukah, a Jewish holiday. My mama was taking my sister and I to buy a present for my brother. When we arrived at the store the sales assistant was really nice. When we were in line to pay, I said, “my brother will live this Chanukah gift!”
“What? You're Jews?” she asked and the rude lady who worked at the store snatched the gift away. “My dad would be mad at me, if he knew I was selling a product to a Jew. Now get out!” my mama's face became pale and my sister and I didn't know what was going on, nut we knew something was terribly wrong.
I felt a lump form in my throat. I couldn't take it anymore and I broke into a wail. After a while, I stopped crying because I could tell my mama felt hopeless and I didn't know what to do. When we got home, my aunt and uncle were with papa having tea. My aunt was Jewish but my uncle was a non-Jewish German.
“Hi!” I said glumly as I walked in the door. Everyone was sipping tea quietly, so I turned on the radio to get some insight as to what was going on. Every station had the same announcement, “Hitler has come to power! Hitler has come to power!” I asked my family if this was why they were quiet. They all replied yes.
“Is it time for elections already?” I questioned.
“No,” answered my papa. “Hitler is a man who doesn't like anyone who is not like himself, and he is trying to kill Jews.”
I grabbed my mama's hand, “What will happen?” I asked.
“I don't know,” mama explained hiding her tears.
“he wants to kill all Jewish children,” sighed my brother.
“They have Nazi soldiers all over Poland with guns ready to kill,” cried my aunt.
“We have to wear yellow stars on all of our clothing,” exclaimed my mama.
Our family quickly packed a few special treasures and gave them to my uncle to keep safe. I clung to my mama and papa because I didn't know how much time I would have left with them.
It was getting late, so I went to sleep. I hoped the next day wouldn't be my last birthday. I couldn't get to sleep. The thoughts of Hitler and the Nazi soldiers kept running through my mind. My thoughts suddenly stopped when I heard my mama crying softly. I curiously walked downstairs to see my mama and papa with a letter. I grabbed the letter that had been dropped on the floor, it read: Mr. and Mrs. Shwartz, you must leave your house and attend a concentration camp.
As my mama gave me a hug she said “I have to go away for a while. Even if I am not with you, I will always be in your heart,” and with that mama was gone. Questions filled my mind. Where was mama going, when was she coning home, was I ever going to see her again? That night, I cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I woke up excited about my birthday but the horror has just begun. I wondered if mama was making delicious cupcakes. Then I sadly remembered my mama was gone. I found my papa putting a picture of our family in a suitcase. “What are you doing?” I asked nervously.
“I have to go away for a while,” my papa said.
I hung on to his leg saying, “Stay! Stay papa please!” I had to be pulled away by my brother.
“I have no choice,” replied my papa. As my papa brushed a piece of hair away from my face, he said, “I love you. We will all be together again very son. Take care of each other.”
I gave my papa a huge hug, “Come back soon,” I pleaded. “I love you,” I yelled as he walked out the door.
My sister, brother and I packed some belongings. In my suitcase were clothes, a picture of my family, my favorite stuffed bear, some paper, and a box of crayons. We went to stay with my aunt and uncle. I took a good look at my house where I grew up and where all my special memories were.
My aunt and uncle felt horrible for us and without thinking invited us to their house. The next day my aunt received a letter addressed to my brother. He was told he had to attend a concentration camp. My aunt and uncle felt terrible for letting him of and not taking care of him but once again, he put his things in his suitcase and left.
That night at dinner, I stuck my metal fork into a creamy potato when my uncle asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes, Yes” replied my sister and I.
“Well,” he began “during the war, I'm going to be hiding your aunt underground.”
“Really?” my sister and I exclaimed.
“There is also bad news. Both of you have to go to a ghetto.”
“What?” we cried.
“But Why?” I asked.
“Well, I think you both will be much safer in the ghetto because if I were to hide you, you wouldn't be able to talk and you would have to stay in a tiny dark hole. It would be really scary.” Responded my uncle.
At the time I didn't know anything about ghettos. I wanted my parents more than anything. How could this happen? It was my birthday and my while family had been taken away from me!
When my sister and I arrived at the ghetto, we put our things in the corner. Hours passed, but it felt like years. All of a sudden, my uncle came in through the window with a bag of vegetables and two pieces of chicken, we gobbled down the food and my uncle said he would be bringing us more. For a long rime things went well, but one day my uncle brought us a note with the food. My sister and I opened the note and it read:
Dear kids,
Good news. The war is coning to an end. There is also bad news. There are more Nazi soldiers because Hitler's power is getting weak. I won't be able to bring you any more food, but I brought extra today. Don't eat it all at the same time. Sorry I let you down.
Good luck.
Love,
Your Uncle George.
As I studied the note, I heard someone knock on the door. BANG! BANG! BANG! A Nazi walked in. he read five names including my sister's. she was taken to sit on top of a truck and told to shoot planes that passed by. As a plane passed by my sister was about to shoot, when she thought, “What if mama and papa are on that plane?” she refused to shoot and she was killed.
At the time, I had no idea what was going on but felt very lonely. I remember the last couple months of the war, I was depressed and spent a lot of time crying. I always though of the comfort of my house, waking up with the sun shining, sitting at the table with my family. I now realized now valuable it all was. Will I ever have the opportunity again? Older children in the ghetto tried to calm me down, but nothing helped. I felt frightened and alone because now I didn't have any family to count on.
After what felt like centuries, a soldier came in and liberated everyone in the ghetto. The war was officially over. I knew I couldn't go home, so I found my way to my aunt and uncle's house. I couldn't believe the damage that had been done to my home country of Poland. When I arrived they were shocked to see me standing at the door and invited me inside, I thanked my uncle for bringing me food and for keeping all of our family's treasures. I decided I had one true hero in my uncle. As I looked at pictures of my sister, I cried a lot because she was taken away just a couple of months before the war was over. I was further devastated when my uncle sat me down and told me my brother and mama had also been killed. I went up to the room, I was given by my aunt and uncle and I started to regret surviving the war. How would I find the courage to survive without my family's support?
Three long months passed, and I was looking at pictures of my family when my aunt Hannah said, “Phone Anna.”
“Hello” I responded.
“Anna, is that you?” the person on the other end replied.
“Papa! You're alive!”
“I'm not alone!” I screamed. My uncle ran into the room when he realized what was going on and he grinned from ear-to-ear. That's when I realized that family was worth all the money and toys in the world, even more.
“I'm in Toronto” my dad answered.
“Then that's where I'm going” I responded.
As my aunt, uncle and I arrived in Toronto, I saw my papa. “I love you papa,” I whispered as I gave him a huge hug. As I felt the warmth of my papa, all my problems were gone and my courage was back. My papa looked me straight in the eye and said, “the plane you sister didn't shoot was the plane I was on”
“How do you know?” I asked curiously.
“I saw her being shot. We were landing. I could recognize that strawberry blond hair anywhere.”
That night as my papa was tucking me in, I said “Gretel had a life worth living”
“I know,” replied my papa with tears in his eyes.
A few years later, I got married and had twin daughters. Whenever I see my twins I think about the memories I shared with my best friend and my twin sister. To this day, I still talk to the public about my story and my family's as well. Also, I light candles to remember my family and friends who didn't survive the war.