Family

When my dad came to America, he was sponsored by my grandmother's family. She had three sisters and a brother that had immigrated to America way before World War II started.  She had not even met her oldest sister until she came to visit my dad for the first time!  I can't even imagine.  When the war was over, her siblings here in America wrote letters back to Brzostek, hoping to find a relative that survived.  That is how they reconnected.  My grandmother was the only one to survive from the entire family in Poland.

After the war ended, my grandmother, father and aunt stayed in Poland and lived there until 1957. At that time they emigrated to Israel. At the time they left Poland, my dad was enrolled and attending law school, and my aunt was going to dental school to become an orthodontist.  The news that they were leaving Poland was a shock and the entire exit happened very quickly. They were only given about a week notice.  Poland was becoming increasingly dangerous for Jewish families.

When they got to Israel there was not enough money to send my dad back to law school and my aunt back to medical school.  My father told his sister to pursue her career and he started to search for a "job".  He worked for a while in a factory that manufactured ammunition. The reality was that he was not happy, and my grandmother saw it. The opportunities in Israel to make a living were not great. She finally convinced and basically "pushed" my dad to get on a boat and go to America.

Coming here must have been frightening. He knew no one, had never met any of his relatives, did not speak English and had only $5 in his pocket.  When he got off the boat, he was greeted by one of his cousins, who recognized him from a photo my grandmother had sent. The problem was, he only spoke English. Somehow they got by, and when my dad got to his aunt and uncle's house, luckily they spoke Yiddush, so finally my dad could communicate with them.  He quickly enrolled in a class to learn English and he was on his way.

Our family here really took him in. He had a huge family, lots of first cousins and he quickly became close with them all.  I remember growing up always surrounded by my dad's cousins and their kids.  We are all very close, and even though we now live all over the country there is a special bond we all share. Most people are so close to their first cousins, but after that their more distant relatives are just that - distant. For me, my second cousins are as close as my first. My dad's first cousins became his adopted American siblings. But the fact is, most of them really did not know or understand what he went through during the war.

Writing this book is for them as much as it is for my children. This is their legacy, their family, their history. I have heard from so many of my cousins, heard how excited they are to read it, and after they read it, how touched and moved they were. I am very close with one of my cousins, and his mom, Phyllis is one of my dad's first cousins who lives close by. Tomorrow is my launch party and first book signing. She insisted that she must attend the event.  And then I got a call from one of my cousins, Amy.

Her dad, Billy, and my dad became very close, again another first cousin. Unfortunately, as happens, Billy is not doing well, Parkinson's is a horrible disease. They live in Altoona, PA, which is probably close to 5 hours away or more.  Billy wants to be here to support my dad, to see him again, and maybe for the last time, and to support me. I am blown away. They are making the long drive tomorrow to come out for the book signing. Words can not express how much this means to not only me, but my dad.

To go through what he did, to feel so alone in the world for so long. To think you are the only Jewish person left alive. These are feelings I can not even begin to imagine. But then, to find family, to  know they are here for you, and to know they genuinely share your joy and happiness and are happy themselves for you, is one of the most moving and important lessons.  Family is everything, Sala proved that in her determination to keep her family together. Our family has stayed together.

Inspiration

It has been almost a week since I launched the book Together. Wow what a week! I am overwhelmed by the amount of support and emails I have been getting.  I have always known, and even wrote about the charisma and magnetism my father has. Going through this journey has just reinforced how many people admire, respect and love him.

So what is the take away from this all?  I see it as quite simple. Here is a man, who experienced the worst kind of hatred, discrimination and terror, that most of us can not even imagine. Yet he is kind, giving and always has a smile on his face. I am not sure how he does it, to be honest. Growing up as a child of a holocaust survivor, it is almost like a badge that I wear, and I truly don't think many others can understand it, unless they too have experienced it. It is the little things that you start to notice. Like, why did we never have a dog growing up? My dad does not like dogs at all!  I realized in my adult years, this is probably because the Nazi's used dogs when hunting for people, and somewhere in his subconscious, he associates these two.  I really don't think he even realizes it himself!

But despite it all, he never rose his voice or yelled at us, he always treats people with respect and his honor and word are the most important things to him.  He is an inspiration and I hope we all can learn that we can overcome the obstacles and negativity in our lives to accomplish good and be good people.

Launch Day!

Launch day is here!  I can't believe it.  OK, so I admit, I have not slept much, the nerves are on end, but I am so excited to start having everyone read it!  What a journey this has been.  I never realized that when I decided to "write a book" it would take me down this path.

First, I have met some amazing people.  I have always had mentors in my life. People that have inspired me, driven me, and supported me.  It is such a blessing to have found a new mentor, and a new avenue.  As exhausting as this has been, the joy I have gotten from the look in my dad's eyes that this is finally happening, is something that is beyond words.

Over the last few days, I have been interviewed by a few local newspapers and publications.  A couple of common question are:
Why did you write this book now?
What was the hardest part for you?
What do you want people to take away from reading the book?

Why did I write it now?  Many of you have heard about my experience when I went back to Poland in 2009 for the re-consecration of the Jewish cemetery in Brzostek, my dad's hometown.  The goodness and kindness I saw in those villagers inspired me to get the story down, hence the beginning of my blog.

What was the hardest part?  We all have parents and grandparents, and many times, that is where we start and end in defining them as people.  One of the hardest parts was the realization that my grandmother was not just my joyful, mushy, cute Baba Sala. She was a woman. A woman that had to endure things that I probably will never really truly understand or fathom or quite honestly know. It was hard opening up my inner self to those feelings, and putting myself into her head. I could not truly do it.  And my dad.  Hey, he's my dad!  But to think that he was not just robbed of his childhood, but of his innocence, made me look at him and think, how is he such a great guy and not bitter? He amazes and astounds me everyday.

What do I want people to take away  from reading the book?  It is actually quite simple.

There are good people in this world, truly good people.  With all the ugliness around us:violence, hatred, blood - to know that goodness exists is powerful.  To understand that TOLERANCE is key. My dad once told us the following and I will leave it at this:

"I am a survivor of the holocaust however I am from a generation that is fading away. In a short period of time this generation will not be around anymore. However the message that we have has to survive future generations and it makes no difference who you are, a Jew, Christian, Muslim or any combination. It may happen to you, it depends who is in power at the moment. Don't allow it and be aware of what is happening in the world and don't turn a blind eye and think it can't happen here or again. "

The Power of our Youth

Tonight starts Passover. I think we all sometimes take for granted our families and these holidays.  Yesterday, my sister called me and told me about the amazing day my dad and her had.   My dad participated in the Metro West Holocaust Day. About 100+ high school students visited Metro West, in NJ, and toured their Holocaust Exhibit. Then, the students broke up into about 10 per table and had lunch with a survivor and got to hear their story. After lunch, one student was selected from each table and had the opportunity to get up and tell those assembled a little bit about their survivor. 

The young gentlemen that got up from my dad's table was a senior. He walked up to the podium, and without any notes, began to speak. He started with "I had the privlige of meeting Mark and learning about his amazing mother..." He then went on to recount my father's story, just from hearing it once!  Then he did something amazing. He put his hand over his heart, and spoke to the students directly to the student there. He reminded them that they all had mothers, most of the time they probably did not listen to their moms, gave them slack and talked back. But that they all had to remember, if faced with a life threatening situation, each one of their moms would do anything to make sure they survived. He asked each person there to go home that night and hug their mom, and tell her they love her. My dad and sister were so moved.

I was in tears when my sister told me this story. Make sure you tell your loved ones you love them, just because you can.

Together - A Journey for Survival

First, I want to thank all of you for following me, and reading my blog. It has been a journey, and the positive feedback has been overwhelming. It is now 5 years later and I still have people come up to me out of the blue to tell me how much they enjoyed reading the story. The next question, is when will I do more? When will I write the book?

Well, last year I decided it was time. I never really thought of myself as a writer. I know that is a controversial statement, but true. However, to see the affect I have had on people of all ages, how much the story of my grandmother inspired so many, I made the decision it was time to turn it into a book.

What a journey it has been. I thought I knew all the stories, oh how wrong I was... The amount of new information, and stories I learned through this process is astounding. And then I went back to my aunt, and got even more. It was not always easy. How do I explain this? Imagine your family. Your parents, your grandparents. How do you think of them? To me, it is just, you know, my dad, my Baba Sala. I don't think I ever really thought of them as people. People with a history, with a life they led way before I was even a dream. Of course I had heard some of the stories growing up, but they were just that, a story. It was not until I started going through the process of writing this book, that I had to face the reality that this was more than just a story. These were more than just characters I had heard about. This was real life. What happened during those dark cold nights? What were they thinking? What did they really have to do? How could they have truly survived?  These were all thoughts, and I had many more, that I grappled with every day. I have to admit, I have read this book probably close to a 100 times already. And each time I cry. It's not like I don't know the ending. I think it is because I start to put my self in their shoes, and it crushes me. Could I be as brave as them? Could I do what they did? I truly don't know.

I thought it only appropriate that the release date for my book, Together - A Journey for Survival, should be May 5, 2016: Holocaust Remembrance Day. Stay tuned... #Together the book, coming soon!

Coming Full Circle

You have all had a chance to re-live the story of Sarah, Manek and Zosia, and their amazing survival.  I grew up my whole life knowing these stories.  My whole life, I had been searching for a meaning, for someone to give me a reason as to why this happened.  It wasn't fair!  I was deprived of my family, and more importantly my father and aunt were deprived of an innocent childhood, actually deprived of a childhood at all.  I realize there is no answer, but in the end there is a lesson.  No matter how dark things may seem, there will always be light.  Sarah was able to see the light, and in 2009 so were we.

 In June of 2009 I had the opportunity to return to Poland for the second time, after 18 years, with my sister, mother and father.  The reason for this trip, although very short, was to re-certify a destroyed Jewish cemetery in my father’s home town of Brzostek, and it was a life changing experience.

A few year’s back a gentleman by the name of Jonathan Weber, a religious studies professor in England whose family immigrated to England from Brzostek in the late 1800's, took it under his wings to campaign to the state of Poland, the town and the head Rabbinical College of Rabbis to re-instate the only Jewish cemetery in Brzostek.  After many years the head Rabbi of Poland agreed and a project of massive undertaking was on its way.  The Brzostek cemetery was destroyed in 1942 and therefore prior to June of 2009 all that remained was an empty lot of land.  Professor Weber took it upon himself to reach out to the Mayor and the Priest of Brzostek to help him rebuild a holy site.

Amazingly, we found out later in the day, that the entire community got behind this project.  When the town heard about what was happening, the people of the Brzostek realized the importance of this and rallied to help, finding headstones that had been used for masonry work or just finding them in junk yards.  By the time the cemetery was ready to be unveiled, the people of Brzostek found over 30 original headstones from the cemetery.  Amazingly, one of the matzevah’s (head stones) that was returned was my Great-Grandfather’s, Fischel Schonwetter. 

The day of the opening was a day I will never forget.  None of us really knew what to expect.  Honestly, we were thinking it would be a nice little ceremony, with a few dozen or so people (Professor Weber had brought a contingency of about 15 people with him). 

First, we congregated at Town Hall, which also housed the jail which my Grandfather was taken to regularly, to unveil a memorial plaque that was hung on the outside of the building.  This ceremony was attended by about 20 foreigners that had some connection to the cemetery, along with about 30 townspeople, including the mayor and local priest.  We were surprised at this point, that so many local people came out and even cared.

The plaque reads:

            IN MEMORY OF THE JEWISH COMMUNITY OF BRZOSTEK ITS RABBIS, TEACHERS, SHOPKEEPERS AND ARTISANS AND ALL FAMILIES AND IN MEMORY OF 500 JEWISH MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN OF BRZOSTEK MURDERED IN 1942 IN THE PODZAMCZE FOREST, IN THE BEZEC DEATH CAMP AND OTHER UNKOWN PLACES.

It was a very nice ceremony, and after it we were lead by the Head Rabbi of Poland, through the town a little ways to the cemetery.  It was a bright and sunny day, and we walked about 5 minutes down the road.  As we approached I turned the corner to where the cemetery was located.  I was shocked by what I saw. 

Hundreds of people from the community, both young and old, came to attend and witness what, to me, was a very emotional and historic moment.  All of us were speechless.  We could not fathom that so many townspeople had actually taken the time on this morning, to come and witness this event.  Tents and chairs were set up for people to sit on, and there was not enough room.  The first few rows had been left empty for the "VIP's", how funny that my father and his sister were now being welcomed as a VIP.  It was totally unbelievable.

Speeches were made by Prof Weber, the Rabbi, the head Priest and Mayor of Brzostek, three families that had ancestors buried there and lastly a speech from two Holocaust survivors, my Father and my Aunt.  During my father's speech, he recounted some of the stories that I have told you.  I heard people behind me that made comments, as they remembered the family names of some of the people that had saved my father.  Even Zosia Dziedzic, whose family saved so many Jewish people including my family,  was there at the ceremony.  My father does not cry, and he actually got choked up when it came time to talk of his mother.  The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky, it was as if they were looking down on us from above, with a clear view.

After the speeches, prayers and blessings were recited, the shofar was blown and we proceeded to the gates of the cemetery.  Prior to walking into the cemetery, another prayer was recited as we walked the length of the cemetery and threw garlic over the fence into it (an old Jewish custom I had never heard of before).   When we entered the cemetery, to the left were all the restored matzevahs.  Directly in front, however, were 3 more unveilings of new matzevahs, one a memorial and commemorative one to honor all the Jews of Brzostek that were killed by the Nazi's, one that was placed by another survivors family, and the third one for my Father’s Father, Israel Schonwetter.

In the Jewish religion, when someone dies, the family recites a prayer (like a blessing for the dead) called Kaddish.  It meant the world to me to hear Kaddish being said for my Grandfather, and to know that he had finally received a final place of rest.

I approached the mayor after the service and thanked him for giving my grandfather a final resting place and providing me with a place that I can bring my children.  I will never forget his response.  “You don’t need to thank me, it was the right thing to do, it was the only thing to do and there is no thanks necessary”.  Unbelievable, I hate to admit that I kept thinking, these people are really doing this for what, what are they getting out of it?  

If I ended the story there, it would have been enough, but it was not over.  Following this very emotional afternoon the crowd left the cemetery and was invited to attend an assembly put together by the high school students.  They had buses for all of us visitors, to take us the short distance to the high school.  When we got to the school the site was astounding.

The children and their families had googled authentic Jewish recipes and cooked home made Jewish and Polish dishes for us, in a buffet that was almost 20’ long.  They also prepared Kosher meals for those that were observant.  After we indulged in some really good food, we sat down to hear the concert that they had prepared.  These Polish children had learned and sang Hebrew Jewish songs, like Shalom Aleichem and Hava Nagila and according to my Aunt, who lives in Israel, they sang it better than most Israeli’s.  We learned that the school has now incorporated into their high school curriculum Jewish studies and Professor Weber established a scholarship that will be awarded yearly to students in the school.  To know that the future generations will learn about the real history of their town, their country and the many people that no longer live there makes me fell that there is still hope and that the hell that my father, aunt, grandmother and millions of other Jews experienced will not be forgotten. 

The day was full of emotions; we also had the opportunity to visit the house my father lived in prior to the war, the entrance to the forests where he lived/hid, as well as met with the daughter of the Polish man that was the key factor in my father’s survival. 

As Jews we know how important and fragile our heritage is, and as children of holocaust survivors, we can not help but feel cheated for not having the opportunity to know our lost family. But to see and hear that others understand this as well has truly restored my faith in mankind.  We always preach “Never Forget”, it is heartwarming to know that there is a community out there that has taken this very seriously.  I hope we can all learn from this.  In a way I see this as a sort of closure for my father, and I hope that it can be the beginning of a compassionate and understanding journey that other towns and communities will venture upon. 

The Question: Who?

The Answer: Me

The Question: Where?

The Answer: Here

The Question: How?

The Answer: With in

The Question: When?

The Answer: Now

The Question: What?

The Answer: Never Forget

Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Ann Schonwetter Arnold

Liberation

"Those of you who feel you are not affected, are affected the most

Those of you who feel it did not happen to you, will experience it the most

Those of you who don't want to remember, will have the most terrifying nightmares

Those of you who think it never happened, will live through it again." - Ann Arnold

By the end of 1944 and beginning of 1945, the sounds of guns, canons and artillery began to become a daily occurrence.  Some days you would hear more, and some days less.  At the beginning, everyone was very frightened by this onslaught of fighting nearby.  German troops would go back and forth through the village where Sarah and the children were hiding.  They would drive in their jeeps along the farm roads, and sometimes they would be followed by ground troops or tanks.  Bronca's house, the house that the Schonwetter's were hiding in, was a bit secluded and on the outskirts of town.  There was one other Polish refugee family staying in the house during that last winter.

After months of hearing the sounds of war, the fighting sounds began to fade away, and then one day it was quiet.  No artillery fire.  No sounds of canons.  No army driving on through the dirt roads.  And then the day came, Bronca ran into the house frantic, "I see soldiers coming, but they don't look German, maybe we are liberated!"  And so they all waited anxiously.  Soon 2-3 soldiers came to the house.  They started to speak to the group, but in some different language.  No one really understood what they were saying, but they realized that it sounded Russian.  Some of the soldiers spoke broken Polish, and soon the words "You are free" were understood.  The Russians continued with their somewhat one sided conversation, and started asking if anyone had seen any German soldiers, or if anyone knew where they were.  They all answered "NO" very quickly, and soon the soldiers left.

Sarah was stunned.  She could not really comprehend what she had heard.  Could it really be over?  Could they really be free?  Could they really go home?  It was too hard to believe, and it was easier to not believe it, so she stayed where she was for a few more days.

The next few days brought more of the same.  Russian soldiers coming through town would stop and start talking in broken Polish.  They would ask if anyone had seen any Germans, and then one day, they asked a new question.  A soldier had stopped at the house and asked Sarah  and the group of people there "Do you know if there are any Jews here?"  Sarah did not know how to respond.  She so desperately wanted to say "Yes I am a Jew!", but years of skeptisim had her asking herself, "why would they be asking this question, are they killing Jews too?"  So fear won out, and Sarah responded that there were no Jews that she knew of.  The soldier accepted the answer, and proceeded  to ask, "Are you all from here?"  "No" answered one of the refugees, Sarah continued "we are from other villages, like Brzostek."  "Ok" the Russian soldier responded, "You can return to Brzostek, that direction is OK, but don't go in the opposite direction, the Germans are still there."  And then the soldiers left. 

Sarah was relieved.  She did not expose the truth about who she was to the soldier.  "You see" she thought "I would have told him I was a Jew, and then he would have left me here, and what would these townspeople do to me?  I must keep a low profile."  But most importantly, it was time to go home.

The next day, Sarah turned to the children and said "We are free, it is time to go home."  And so they went.  It was winter time, and it was cold, but in spite of the conditions, they walked all the way back to Brzostek.  It had been almost 3 years since the night that they had fled the safety of their village.  Almost 3 years since they had seen the place they had called home.  Almost 3 years since they were free to be who they were.  But were they really free?

When the threesome got to Brzostek, they finally saw what was left of the house.  It had been badly damaged from the war, it appeared that a shell must have gone off in the house.  The windows were broken, debris was everywhere, and the house was empty.  Since it was so cold, Sarah took the children down to the basement.  She found some pots and pans in the kitchen.  There was no food, there was nothing left at all.  Sarah began to look around the grounds, and found a old stock pile of frozen and badly damaged potatoes.  What choice did she have?  She took these potatoes, started a fire and cooked the worst tasting potato latkes.  They had also found some wheat in the barn, and Manek and his mother took the wheat, and ground it by hand to make flour.  They mixed it with some water and baked "bread".  They stayed in the house for about 1-2 weeks.  Sarah was afraid to go anywhere.  She was afraid to let anyone know that she was alive and back.  You see although the war was over, some Jews were still being murdered when they returned to their homes, this time by their Polish neighbors. 

After a couple of weeks, Sarah had a visitor, cousin Fritz Schonwetter. 

Fritz's father was a brother to Israel Schonwetter.  He was living in Hamburg, Germany with his mother, father and brother in 1938 when Hitler came to power. At that time he was in his late teenage years.  When the Jews were kicked out of Germany, the family came to Brzostek to stay with their relatives.  They were all rounded up that fateful day in 1942 when the Jews of Brzostek were eliminated.  Fritz was the only one of his family to escape.  He was soon captured however, and sent to a concentration camp, where he survived until the end of the war.  After he was liberated, he came back to Brzostek to see if anyone was left.  He met up with Sarah and the children, but he only stayed a few days.  He told Sarah that they had to leave and get out of Brzostek.  She agreed and headed to Tarnov while he left to try to find more of his family.  Sarah lost touch with Fritz for many years.  When she finally reconnected with him, she found out that he had gone back to Hamburg to search for any survivors.  He found none.  At that time he connected with other refugees, and headed to Palestine.  He eventually wrote a letter to Tarnov searching for Sarah and that is how they were able to reconnect.

Meanwhile, Sarah left for Tarnov.  Before the war Tarnov was a big Jewish center.  After the war, many Jewish survivors came to this city looking for any survivors.  The United Nations Relief and Rehabilition Administration (UNRRA) established offices here.  This group was established to get foreign aid to help survivors pay for housing and food.  They began to compile a list of all survivors.  When Sarah arrived in Tarnov, she went to the UNRRA office for help.  They helped provide temporary shelter and food for her and the children.  She would take a bus to Brzostek once a week on Wednesdays, to visit the farmers market, where she would buy chicken, eggs and other staples.  The prices were much cheaper here.  She was also able to connect with her family in America.  She had 3 sisters and a brother that had left Poland long before the war started.  After the war they wrote a letter to Brzostek desperately looking for survivors.  Sarah received their letter and was able to reconnect with the only family she had left.

But going to Brzostek also allowed her to begin selling off her land.  She had no money, and the only assets she had was her home and land.  She first gave Pilat one of the houses on her property, as she promised.  She then began slowly selling off parts of the vast farmland that she owned.  Eventually she sold the house.  The family that bought the house still own it today.  She was able to make a little money this way.  In order to make more money, Sarah began to buy and sell American dollars on the black market.  You knew she would always find a way to support her children.  She soon met up with some other familiar faces, Romek and Fish.

Romek never really gave up his rowdy and thieving ways.  Although it helped him survive the war, he eventually got himself in trouble and ended up in jail.  He escaped once, but was recaptured and eventually died in prison.

Fish had first gone back to his home town of Jaslow.  He did not find many survivors.  He did however find his sister's husband, Solomon Katzbach.  Solomon had joined the Russian army early on in the war.  His wife and children however, perished at the hands of the Nazi's.  The two men travelled to Tarnov together to look for more survivors.  There Fish was reunited with Sarah.  He introduced her to his brother in law, and so her new life began. 

Solomon and Sarah married in 1947 and were together until the day he died in 1968.  Sarah never remarried again after that.  I remember seeing my grandmother always with her wedding ring on.  Until the day she died, she always remembered Solomon.  From what I hear he was a wonderful and kind man.  It is a shame that he died the year before I was born, and I never had a chance to meet him.

Manek and Zosia finished high school.  Manek (who by this point had kept his Polish name of Maryan-pronounced Mar-yan) began law school and Zosia began medical school to become an orthodontist.  The family stayed in Poland until 1957.  At that time the government funded voyages on ships for any Jew that wanted to leave Poland to Israel.  Poland was not an easy place for a Jew to live.  And so Solomon, Sarah, Maryan and Zosia left Poland and moved to Israel.

My dad did not return to Poland again until 1993.  My father, mother, sister and I went on a family trip.  It was a moving experience to witness firsthand the places that I had heard so much about.  But as special as that trip was, our next trip to Poland in 2009 was life changing.

Check back next time to hear about the experience that no one could have dreamed possible.