Posted by: Irene Fridsma | April 3, 2012

Holocaust Remembered

Yesterday we took three of our grandsons to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. The little ones were bored by the black and white photos. They wondered about the man shouting speeches in some other language. “Why is he shouting?” They didn’t understand the word “propaganda.” I wan’t sure if any of the significance of this horrible chapter in history would have any impact on them.

We walked through the exhibit “Daniel” and read about his life before and after. That was more interesting to them.They couldn’t imagine being sent away, or separated from their parents, never to see them again.

At the end of the display is a wall with lists of names of people that were rescuers. These were brave individuals who risked their lives to save Jews.

On the long wall with lists of names, they found the names of their great-grandparents. “is this really big Oma, and big Opa?” they asked. They ran their fingers over the names and wanted to know what they had done to help the Jews.

I could not hold back the tears as they began to see how this touched them. Their last name was engraved on the wall. They were connected.


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