Yesterday, while in Lublin, I was taken by the rows and rows of nameless visages depicted in black and white photos. To leave this Earth without anyone to remember you is perhaps one of humans’ deepest fears. To think of the innumerable personal histories lost in the events surrounding WWII is overwhelming.
This morning, to witness Howard receiving his school records was overwhelming too – but in a different way. Howard saw his own history beyond memories and stories; he saw a snapshot of his boyhood in writing. Diplomats from Starachowice located and compiled a beautiful book of records regarding Howard, his sister and his brothers. Seeing his pre-war history on paper, before his eyes, struck Howard speechless. It was a truly beautiful moment marked by awe and gratitude, reminding us of the thoughtfulness and kindness in others.
Throughout our morning, Howard spoke of his family, his neighbors and his friends. We saw his childhood home, which his grandfather built and Howard proudly described. Howard also shared about his friends, schooling, and past times. We stood solemnly in the Market Square where Jews were rounded up, divided into groups, and sent to work or to Treblinka. We stood on the ground where many people died, and from where many vanished, never to be seen or heard of again.
In Kielce we joined in a memorial celebration for the 42 Jewish lives lost in the 1946 Anti-Semitic riots. These names are memorialized by bronze plaques in the street where they last walked. As candles were lit for each victim, it was impossible not to consider the potential and memories extinguished with each life that awful day 73 years ago.
While records may or may not persist, it is often that personal memories are carried only in the hearts of a few. While many names and faces will forever be unknown, it is our responsibility – as students, teachers and humans – to tell the history as best we can, keeping memories and stories alive for all of posterity. Today’s events deeply underscored this mission.
As Howard said this morning, “The Holocaust is not a Jewish problem so much as it is a universal problem.”
Alison Doyle-Hoover is a teacher at Seneca Valley Senior High School.