I got stuck in a forest beside an unmarked graveyard in Hungary when an act of kindness reminded me that the world is not all that terrible. It also made my grandmother's pain that much more acute.
I have, since the rise in antisemitism, become more aligned with my Jewish roots. Recently, I found the grave of my grandmother, Brocha, an immigrant from Poland, and the grave of her infant son Hillel. I am glad I did, but it stirs up feelings that sit heavy on my heart.
Both buried in Brooklyn. She made it to the US, but died young, along with her infant son. My family didn’t talk about shit, so my cousin and I are discovering our history—as best we can.
Appreciate this a great deal; Napkor is half an hour from my grandfather's birthplace. Yesterday, I was asked to read an excerpt from my book during a podcast interview, and reading what you share I can't help but revisit it:
"As I began searching for my ancestors' backstories, I found that most places had an awkwardly translated web page highlighting a point of minor interest: a museum or an historic church. But eventually I’d come to the same words repeated more or less verbatim: “Before World War II, Kisvárda (or Eger, or Győr, or Kőszeg) had a large Jewish community. They were confined to a ghetto in 1944, and then deported to Auschwitz. The majority perished there. Today there are almost no Jews in Kisvárda (or Abony, or Heves, or Mohács).” I’d soon learn that, though Hungary was the last place to be subjected to the Holocaust, the devastation it wrought there was astonishingly total. Outside Budapest, roughly nine out of ten Jews perished. And yet all four of my father’s immediate family survived. How?"
I have, since the rise in antisemitism, become more aligned with my Jewish roots. Recently, I found the grave of my grandmother, Brocha, an immigrant from Poland, and the grave of her infant son Hillel. I am glad I did, but it stirs up feelings that sit heavy on my heart.
Hi Elizabeth, I'm so sorry for your heart, but happy you found it. Where?
Just to add, standing in the desecrated graveyard of my ancestors would have been hard, hard, hard. Good for you.
It was. Is it weird to say it gets easier?
Both buried in Brooklyn. She made it to the US, but died young, along with her infant son. My family didn’t talk about shit, so my cousin and I are discovering our history—as best we can.
Interesting!
Not at all. As the bigger picture takes shape, so to our understanding.
A city girl with sensitive eyes :)
Chilling
Thank you.
Appreciate this a great deal; Napkor is half an hour from my grandfather's birthplace. Yesterday, I was asked to read an excerpt from my book during a podcast interview, and reading what you share I can't help but revisit it:
"As I began searching for my ancestors' backstories, I found that most places had an awkwardly translated web page highlighting a point of minor interest: a museum or an historic church. But eventually I’d come to the same words repeated more or less verbatim: “Before World War II, Kisvárda (or Eger, or Győr, or Kőszeg) had a large Jewish community. They were confined to a ghetto in 1944, and then deported to Auschwitz. The majority perished there. Today there are almost no Jews in Kisvárda (or Abony, or Heves, or Mohács).” I’d soon learn that, though Hungary was the last place to be subjected to the Holocaust, the devastation it wrought there was astonishingly total. Outside Budapest, roughly nine out of ten Jews perished. And yet all four of my father’s immediate family survived. How?"
Wow! I had no idea that your family was that close. Amazing
so enjoyed this the melancholy lurking in the background of narrative like the spirits in forest...
surprised you don't know how slowly tractors move lol
ha! I am very much a city girl
yeah the sunglasses give it away 🫠