this was a wonderful read to start the day - I haven't had the opportunity to know where in Hungary (and other Eastern European countries) my family was living, but all the themes in this resonate deeply and grateful to get to read!
Thank you for this, Leah. My own family's "Anatevka" village is Tămașda, which was part of Hungary when my grandfather was born and now is part of Romania. I looked it up on Google Street View, and I wanted to transport myself there and ask them, "Where are your Jews?" My grandfather's family owned property there and, in one pogrom, were wiped out and forced to flee to Paks. Most later perished in Auschwitz, including my great-grandmother. I visited Budapest just after the Iron Curtain fell in the '90s and found the place where my father was born in 1935. But all I could think of when I saw the older faces was, "What did you do?" Intergenerational trauma is very real. I am looking forward to reading more of your memoir, Leah.
Hey Leah, What a wonderful article. Thank you. I totally get why you’re needing the dead. Reading this brought back the tastes, smells, thoughts and feelings I experienced several years ago when visiting the Jewish cemetery in Lodz, Poland where my dad’s family hailed from. That phrase, “sticking out of the ground like broken teeth” - perfect description. But surprisingly, some of the grave stones were actually perfectly preserved/restored. My grandparents, dad and sibs and one aunt and uncle fled to Canada in the early ‘30s as they saw the writing on the wall. However, many of our family members didn’t so were exterminated in the camps. In Warsaw we visited an old synagogue that the Nazis converted into stables for their horses. My heart hurt.
I look forward to reading more of your memoir, if and when.
Having written both fiction and poetry throughout my life and sometimes rashly trying to break all rearview mirrrors, I feel your piece almost as a part of my own heart and bloodstream. All I can say right now is that there are many many forgotten and omitted voices out here in this world and many gripped heads and tightenedd hands still whispeing and shuddering no no no this cannot be while many of try to summon up the histories even if they are fragments and the shards stick our guts and we declare oh yes yes yes. We will keeping going and show the world the well iis far deeper and spreads far wider thanm any puny idea of replacements. We will live to shine and help heal. L'CHAIM. y BASTA YA!
Thxs Leah. We need you.
Thanks Mary
this was a wonderful read to start the day - I haven't had the opportunity to know where in Hungary (and other Eastern European countries) my family was living, but all the themes in this resonate deeply and grateful to get to read!
Thank you, Charlie!
Lovely. Fine metaphors & similes .
Sent it along to a Hungarian survivor now in her late 80’s, who vividly remembers her fortunate evacuation from Hungary, hidden in a convent.
Thanks Mark, would love to hear what her experience was like.
Sophie Cook. German speaking Budapest family.
Sophiecook@earthlink.net
Radcliffe & Columbia Law grad, conditioned by uplifting postwar years in Paris & retention of French language to this day.
She writes of her childhood & is increasingly visited by dreams.
wow always good to "have a reason to go back" THANKS
so true
Thank you for this, Leah. My own family's "Anatevka" village is Tămașda, which was part of Hungary when my grandfather was born and now is part of Romania. I looked it up on Google Street View, and I wanted to transport myself there and ask them, "Where are your Jews?" My grandfather's family owned property there and, in one pogrom, were wiped out and forced to flee to Paks. Most later perished in Auschwitz, including my great-grandmother. I visited Budapest just after the Iron Curtain fell in the '90s and found the place where my father was born in 1935. But all I could think of when I saw the older faces was, "What did you do?" Intergenerational trauma is very real. I am looking forward to reading more of your memoir, Leah.
Hey Leah, What a wonderful article. Thank you. I totally get why you’re needing the dead. Reading this brought back the tastes, smells, thoughts and feelings I experienced several years ago when visiting the Jewish cemetery in Lodz, Poland where my dad’s family hailed from. That phrase, “sticking out of the ground like broken teeth” - perfect description. But surprisingly, some of the grave stones were actually perfectly preserved/restored. My grandparents, dad and sibs and one aunt and uncle fled to Canada in the early ‘30s as they saw the writing on the wall. However, many of our family members didn’t so were exterminated in the camps. In Warsaw we visited an old synagogue that the Nazis converted into stables for their horses. My heart hurt.
I look forward to reading more of your memoir, if and when.
Thank you, Sandy!
This is so very moving, Leah!
Thank you, Maggie!
What a beautiful, moving piece. Two lines in particular stay with me:
They stick out of the ground like broken teeth.
And it feels holy; the dusty breath from singing voices still hovers in the air.
Thank you for sharing this intimate story.
As always, thank you for reading, Janie.
Having written both fiction and poetry throughout my life and sometimes rashly trying to break all rearview mirrrors, I feel your piece almost as a part of my own heart and bloodstream. All I can say right now is that there are many many forgotten and omitted voices out here in this world and many gripped heads and tightenedd hands still whispeing and shuddering no no no this cannot be while many of try to summon up the histories even if they are fragments and the shards stick our guts and we declare oh yes yes yes. We will keeping going and show the world the well iis far deeper and spreads far wider thanm any puny idea of replacements. We will live to shine and help heal. L'CHAIM. y BASTA YA!
What an amazing story!
Thank you, Ellis. That means a lot to me, especially from you