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Israel Version 2025

4 May

I noticed a difference the first evening in my daughter’s apartment in Holon, just south of Tel Aviv. We were unpacking my suitcases and going through the items I had brought for her, when I noticed the sounds of airplanes or jets in the sky.

I said, “I don’t remember so many planes flying overhead to the airport.

My daughter: “Mom, those are not commercial airlines.”

Me: “oh”

Then she added, “It is Shabbat, commercial airlines don’t fly. But military is exempt.”

In the morning I learned that the IDF had bombed part of Syria to protect the Druze population.

The peaceful view in Holon one hour after the siren.

I was not unaware of what it was like to live in Israel. I had studied in Israel for a year attending Hebrew University from July 1974 to July 1975. I had some experience with war time in Israel. The Yom Kippur War had been the previous October 1973. Most of the students I met had survived that war. Even the ones who did not have physical scars, had mental ones. And we all knew to report any backpack or bag that looked suspicious or was unattended. When on a bus, the driver always checked to make sure every backpack or bag had an owner on the bus. I had heard explosions and been to areas perhaps I should not have been to with my friends who had been called up for reserve duty so many years ago.

I had been in Israel with my children and parents in December 2004/January 2005 for a two-week trip. Israel was on high alert. It was in the process of leaving Gaza and turning it over to the Egyptian/Palestinians who were living there. The settlers who had to be removed were protesting. We had to avoid some places. And at times we saw the movement of tanks heading toward the Gaza envelop. I wonder what would have happened if Israel had not left Gaza. Would it had been better if Hamas had never been elected as the government there? If Israel had just kept its oversight? I know that the government thought/hoped this would bring peace. Unfortunately it brought 20 years of bombing, hate and then pogrom.

My husband and I were in Israel in November 2008 for a medical meeting where my husband was a presenter. We stayed after the meeting to visit our daughter in Beer Sheva where she was a graduate student at Ben Gurion University. One day the three of us went to an Air Force Museum. The young soldier who was our tour guide was a little tense. I noticed that lots of jets were taking off and landing. I asked the guide a question about it. Her response was they were doing drills. When we left the museum, I turned to my daughter and said something is going to happen. Before we left Israel, a few days later, I told my daughter to be careful. To pay attention to what was happening, I was extremely worried. Six weeks later was Cast Lead, Israel’s response to the continued bombings from Gaza/Hamas.

In the summer of 2016, a few months before my daughter and son-in-law got married, the couple purchased an apartment in Holon. “Mom,” she said, “you will be happy to know that our apartment has a ‘mamad’, a bomb shelter.” “I am happy your apartment has one,” I responded. “But I am sad you have to have one.”

In November 2022 I was in Israel with my daughter when the government tested the siren alarm system. It was the first time I had been in Israel that I heard the sirens go off. Although it was just a test, it made me aware that my daughter actually used her mamad. Something I still feel very sad about.

I have been on the phone with my daughter several times when she has had to take shelter. When the sirens were going off. Once when she was at the University, when I was on the phone with her, I actually heard the bomb hit, it was so close. And just last week, before I came here, we were talking when the sirens went off and she and her husband ran to their shelter. There have been ballistic missiles from Yemen and the Houthis for two years now. These were so large, that even when they were shot down, the shrapnel could cause damage.

I arrived at Ben Gurion Airport on May 2. This morning, 40 hours after my arrival, on May 4, 2025, I had my own mamad experience. This morning after they went to work, I planned to take a walk. But at 9:22 am, just as I was preparing to leave, the sirens went off. It was not a drill or a test. It was the real thing. Everything outside stopped. I went into the mamad. Here is what ensued as per our text conversation:

“The sirens are going off. how do I close the window?” Me

“Go to your room. There’s a metal slide on the right side. Pull it hard.” my daughter

“I cannot get the slide. The sirens stopped.” Me

“Or just stay away from the window. Stay in the room 5 minutes.” My daughter

“Ok” me

“Looks like the Houthis, so there’s probably nothing near us.” My daughter

“Ok I don’t think I will go for a walk right now.” Me

“Ok. Usually it’s just one.” My Daughter

“Well I was just going to go when the sirens went off. And I don’t know where the shelters are. Cars are starting to move. But it is still silent.” Me

“Yeah, the sirens only go off for a bit and turn off. But they say to stay inside 10 minutes. But for Houthis really 5 is fine.“ My daughter

“Everyone is still in shelters. All the construction stopped.” Me

“Everyone is leaving my shelter now. in Tel Aviv Everyone is outside.” My daughter

“We can walk tonight. You can show me where the shelters are.” Me

“Ok we’ll go on a walk tonight.”My daughter

“Sounds good. I hadn’t thought of that before. It would have freaked me out walking by myself… when the sirens went off.” Me

A bit later I found out that the missiles hit Ben Gurion Airport, 16 miles from Holon. Several people were injured. Many flights have been cancelled for 24 hours. A friend of mine, who lives in Tel Aviv, texted me. “Luckily you arrived before today’s mess at the airport. “Oy yes,” I responded.

Back in Holon, the construction is continuing. I hear the voices of children outside from the neighboring schools. I hear jets overhead. And I see commercial airplanes. The sky is a beautiful blue color. It is a lovely day, only 70 degrees. Life goes on. Just an hour later, and no one even thinks of the short time in the bomb shelters.

Israel Version 2025. Keep living.

https://www.ynetnews.com/article/rkkfwtvglg

A Small Beacon of Hope On Yom HaShoah

27 Apr

My husband loves to assign movies to holidays that impact us.  For Fourth of July, we watched 1776; for Ground Hogs Day, we watch Ground Hogs Day; for Israel Independence, we watch Exodus; and for Yom HaShoah, we watch Schindler’s List.

I have known for several years now that one of my grandfather’s cousins, one of the very few who survived the Shoah, was on Schindler’s List and survived as a member of his work force.  It made me think of this movie in a different light, because now one of those working and surviving was someone I once knew. 

But this year, my view of the movie will change even more.  For the first time, I now know that my grandfather’s cousin, Shalom, was one of the people who served as a pallbearer for Oscar Schindler at his funeral.  And for the first time, I have found out that my distant cousin was one of at least 10 people from his community who were saved by Schindler.

(Many thanks to Izabela Sekulska and Mayn Shtetele Mielec for discovering this information.)

I had to wonder, did they know each other?  There were about 5,000 Jewish souls who lived in the area of Mielec.  Only 100-200 survived.  Once they became part of the Schindler work force, of course they new each other. But did they work together to survive?  Did they become part of this unusual group together?

I know of one other story like Schindler’s list. My good friend’s mother and grandmother survived the Shoah with about 100 other women who worked making clothes and shoes for the German army.  The man who ran this factory saved them several times.  Once keeping them at the factory even over night when there was typhus disease raging through the camp.  A second time he actually went to the camp and getting his workers out from a transport to a death camp, saying he did not want to train new workers.  

Did he do this because he was emotionally attached to his workers?  Did he really work to save them?  We will never know. But my friend’s mother and grandmother survived. I knew them as well.  Their story can be found at the San Antonio’s Holocaust Memorial Museum. 

So on this Yom HaShoah, I will have a small beacon of light thinking about my grandfather’s cousin, Shalom; my girlfriend’s mother, Anna, who were saved by their work in a factory.  And I will have hope because people like Izabela in today’s Poland work to keep the Jewish cemeteries in good order and to find out what happened to the Jewish people who disappeared over 80 years ago.

Pre-Passover/Pesach Ponderings

8 Apr

At 70 years old, I envisioned that I would be sailing through my retirement years comfortable with my world.  Enjoying my family, watching my country continue to flourish, seeing the United States and its reputation be strong in the world, as my husband and I continued to travel and enjoy visiting new places.

This is a far distant vison than the one my great grandmother faced 82 years ago, when in April 1943, she was murdered by the Germans at age 70 in Poland.  It was the Thursday before Easter, and after her husband and four children had been murdered and her farm and property had been confiscated by the Germans.

My great grandmother is a bit different than the many unknown who were murdered during the Shoah, as there is a record of her last day taken during the trial held after the war for her murder.  I know what she did, what she said, and who killed her. (See blog below.)

For fifty years I had been on a quest to find out what happened to my grandfather’s family.  A quest that started after I spent my sophomore of college in Jerusalem.  A year when I met many members of my family who survived the Shoah and ended up living in Eretz Israel, the land of Israel.

When I returned home, I was the child who said, I need to know.  I sat with all of my grandparents to hear their stories.  I wrote everything down. In the 1970s there was no internet, no easy way to discovered what happened. But I kept my papers and over the years when I met other members of my family I wrote down what they said.  And slowly, slowly the stories came out.

In some instances, I found out history that perhaps I did not want to know.  I learned about my father’s family who came to the USA in the 1870s.  I learned of both tragedies and joys.    

I learned about a great uncle who ended up in a mental institution, a great aunt who died from the Spanish flu, multiple children who died in their infancies; family menbers who did not speak to each other and a child who was raised by an aunt and did not know till she got engaged.

For my mother’s family, both of her parents came to the USA in the early 1920s, I learned about the hundreds of cousins, siblings, parents, all many of relatives that were murdered in the Shoah, as well as ones who had been saved.

I learned about relatives who were on Schindler’s List.  Those who were saved by the Kinder Transport and ended up in England.  A cousin who survived the Kelce Pogrom. Others who hid in the forests near their home town and formed a group like the one in the movie, “Defiance,” but these were my family.

I learned about a relative who converted to Catholicism before the war, but during the war she tried to save her sibling and her children. She was not successful.  Their bodies were found buried in a field when construction was being done about three years ago. The driver of the vehicle was the grandson of the relative who converted, so Catholic himself.  He had dug up the bodies of his own dead Jewish great aunt and her family.  Can you imagine the irony of this? 

I learned that owning property or having money does not save you.  What might save you is luck, fortitude, or relatives who might have a chance to get your out.  But you also had to make your own luck.  You had to want to survive.

My great grandmother finally gave up. Everyone was dead, she had been hiding in the forest with others for a while.  But then she was done. It was too much sorrow. Too much loss.

In this world with the chaos and uncertainty surrounding the economy; the round up of immigrants, even those with legal residences; the job losses; the attacks on education; the attacks on the rights of LGBTQ communities; the rise in anti-Semitism and hatred toward Israels and Jews, I have had to re-evaluate.

Could our property be confiscated?  Could our savings be stolen?  Could people in the USA be forced to hide in the woods to stay safe?  Will people just give up?

Am I really so different from my great grandmother whom I am named after?  Should I consider my own exit strategy?  Believe me my mind often mulls over the options. 

But it is the Tuesday before Pesach and Easter.  It is two days before the 82nd anniversary of my great grandmother’s murder by the German mayor of Czermin, Jukub Hesler.

So I am pondering and considering and hoping that our Constitution is strong enough. That our courts are strong enough. That our elected politicians remember who they vow allegiance to:  The CONSTITUTION of the United States of America.  And who they serve, the people of their states and districts.

I wish everyone a Zissel Pesach, a happy Pesach.  And I wish all who celebrate Easter a happy Easter.  And I wish to everyone throughout the countries of the Earth a peaceful and joyful 2025.

March 9, 1942: The Destruction Of Mielec’s Jewish Population

4 Mar

On March 9, it will be the 83rd anniversary of the deportation and mass murder of the Jews of Mielec.  The end of the 5000 Jews who lived in the city of Mielec and its surrounding villages, 50 percent of the total population of the area.  The home to my grandfather and his family.  His father, mother, brothers and sisters were among the Jews were marched out of the town.  Some were killed along the way and buried in a mass grave, some sent to death camps where they were murdered.  My great grandmother somehow escaped this but died months later, murdered by a German, turned in by her old neighbors.  (See blogs below.)

Thanks to the amazing Izabela Sekulska, my family members are now remembered.  Since March 9, 2020, a group of Polish people from Mielec remember the deportation of the Jews of Mielec.  They will gather once again at the mass grave, read out the names of 105 more people who they now know.  So far they have made stones for 1000 Jewish residents who were murdered in the Shoah. Included in this list are eight of my relatives. Gimple Feuer, Chava Amsterdam Feuer, Taube Amsterdam Feuer, Nachum Amsterdam Feuer, Shimon Amsterdam Feuer, Ceia/Tzilia Amsterdam Feuer, as well as Natan Amsterdam and Tauba and Marcus Amsterdam.  For each a stone has been painted and will be left on the mass grave. You can learn more about their work on the Facebook Group, Mayn Shtelele Mielec.

I thank those who work to keep their memories alive in Poland.  Who do not forget the mass graves of Jews still buried and unknown.  In my heart I will be there on March 9 and I remember those who died due to hatred in the past. Now I have a date to say Kaddish for my family.

I will think about those still hostages in Gaza, also murdered and tortured and held against their will while the world is mainly silent.  And I will think how once again the Red Cross and the humanitarian agencies did nothing to save them.  Just as they did basically nothing during the Shoah.

I will think about the UN, whose voice was silent during the brutal rape and murders of Israelis and others who were caught in in the Hamas murder spree.  Who voice was silent for 18 months toward Jewish hostages and Israel, but not silent in still supporting Hamas.  I will think about the UN who recently cut off all aid to Yemen after the Houthis took over 20 UN workers hostage. But who did not cut off aid to Hamas after their violent attacks.  Double standards for sure.

I will think about college students and professors who turned in support for Hamas and tormented and attacked Jewish students, faculty and administrators.  And we now know that Hamas was infiltrating these groups and had a hand in the protests.  And I will think about the university administrators who said the words “kill all Jews” had to be taken into context before they could say this was wrong.  I am glad that now those who are violent and threatening are beginning to realize this is not free speech and are expelled from their universities.  I have nothing against a civil exchange of ideas, but the violence and threats are not that.

I will think about the current administration and its two-sided ideology.  On one hand saying it is working to end anti-Semitism, but on the other hand getting rid of DEI initiatives that hurt minorities and the attacks on Hispanic members of our communities using the threats of ICE to scare and threaten them. As well as their attacks and efforts to silence the LGBTQ+ community, just as the Nazis also tortured and murdered those who were homosexual.

I will think about the last two years, the present and the future.  I will think about the fact that my husband told me next time I visited our daughter in Israel I should look into getting Israeli citizenship. Is America ever going to be great again for the Jewish citizens?  I am not sure.  I know many think that the current president supports the Jews. But I see something totally different.  A support for Israel because it fits his needs now, while at the same time supporting those who would make the USA a  nation with against those of different religions and ideologies.

But I will also think about the helpers.  Those in Poland who remember what happened and are trying to make a change.  Those in the USA who speak out against baseless hatred. And I will try to have hope that this insidious evil that seems to have arisen will soon slither back in to the underworld where it belongs.

My Own Secret Annex

5 Feb

Last week the plumber came to my house to fix an outdoor faucet that was leaking. He told me that if things went well, he would be able to do it from the outside.  It did not go well.  The faucet was over 30 years old and had seized up. 

We thought he would have to cut a hole in the drywall of my finished basement.  But first he started looking around.  Could he go through the closet? That would not work.

Was there another way. Also, he wondered how they could put both water and gas pipes on the  without some sort of an access.  He continued to searched around.

Finally he pointed to what I thought was an air conditioner exchange during our five years in this house.  “What’s that?” he questioned.  He started moving some furniture away from the wall.  Then said, “I might have to unscrew it to see what’s behind it.”

But he did not have to unscrew anything.  That air conditioner vent was hinged and held closed by a spring.  When he opened this ‘door’, there was a crawl space with access to all the pipes. There was even a light switch and a working light.

As he opened it, I was excited!  My first words were, “Wow, I have a secret room!” I always wanted a secret room.  Friends of mine had a hidden door that looked like a bookcase.  When you opened it, you were in the room with a dome and telescope.  I always wanted a secret hideaway.  Now I had one. 

In the meantime, the plumber was able to quickly fix my faucet issue, including replacing the old water turn off valve in this crawl space. 

After he left, I started thinking about my secret space.  It is a great spot for hiding.  No one knows it is there.  It looks just like a vent for the air conditioner.  With furniture in front of the lower part of it, no one would never think it was larger than a normal air vent. It is in a very good place for a secret space.  There is a closet in front of it.  Anyone who opens it would think went to the end of the house.  Staircases enclose it.  There is a solid wall on one side, and the outside walls on two sides, with just this tiny door to get in.

It even had lighting.  It was insulated. And although you cannot stand up in it. Three or four people could comfortably sit inside. It made me think of the secret annex that Anne Frank and her family lived it. Wait, why did my mind go there?   

Then it hit me, that I was actually thinking that this is a place where I can hide my family if needed.  I have never ever felt that way before.   But in the past 18 months as the Jew Hatred seems to grow, and the craziness builds, it was a thought that has stayed in my mind.  What would we do if people really went crazy?  I believe I am safe.  I know I have great neighbors and friends.  But then my family in Poland felt the same way before their property was confiscated and they were murdered.

I know it is not March 3, 1942, when all the remaining Jews of the area my great grandparents lived in were rounded up.  Less than 100 Jews survived from over 5,000  who lived there.  My family included two of these survivors.  I knew them.  I also know of many who died.

Honestly, would I ever have to use this secret room to hide out from those who want to do evil?  I think not.  But there is just this teeny bit of doubt that makes me feel sad for the world. 

I would rather hold on to the feeling of excitement for a secret crawl space. I would rather focus on a  discovery saved much time and money in fixing a pipe and gave me the joy of discovery something new about my home.

I am praying for our country and the world that sanity will prevail, fear will dissipate, and hate will disappear.

The Trial For the Murder of Chava “Gimplowa” Feuer

19 Nov

I am almost 70 years old.  My Hebrew name is Chava.  As I say this to myself, I shiver sometimes.  I am the only Chava in my family.  It should not be that way.  My grandfather’s mother was Chava.  She had five children and should have had many grandchildren. At least one girl in each family would have been named Chava. 

In the family there were multiple people named Nissan, Moshe, Mordechai, Gital, Cerla, Gimple, Chava.   As the next generation goes on, there should be multiples of these names as well. But there are not.  There is one Nissan, my son, who is actually named Nissan Mordechai.  There is one Gimple, my cousin, who passed away and now his grandson has that name.  There are no Cerla or Gital.  There are no Shimon or Nuta.

Why aren’t there multitude of cousins with these names? Because they were ALL murdered in the Shoah.  There is no one to carry on these names. But we still must remember them.

My great grandmother Chava was 70 when she was murdered by the Nazis.  As the world is so crazy with Jew Hatred.  As I am turning 70. As my name is also Chava.  Should I be afraid?  As I read in detail from witnesses about what happened to my great grandmother on the day she died. Should I worry about the hate in the world around me?  Could it happen again?

A few years ago, I wrote about the murder of my great grandmother, Chava.  I have a book called “The Holocaust and European Societies” that talks about her murder. (See blog below.). The death of my great grandmother is discussed in this book.  When I found it, I was astonished.  I agonized.  What was she thinking as they took her to be killed? Now I know.  Is it good that I know?  I am really not sure. 

When I first started meeting with Izabela S. online, I had no idea how much she would be able to find out.  Now, through the work of history profession named, Tomek, who has investigated the death of my great grandmother, I have the testimony of first hand witnesses.  I can see in my mind what happened.  I can feel her suffering.  I thought, should I share this? Should it end with me?  Isn’t it enough that I know? 

But then I again think about what is happening in the world today, and I think not.  I think everyone needs to know what happened to my great grandmother.  No one should be able to say, this could never happen.  Because it has and it did.

The next question I have to ask myself is, “When Do I Give Up.” That is a question I know my great grandmother faced.  Her husband was dead, her children were gone, probably dead.  So many of her relatives murdered all around her.  The one child she knew was alive, my grandfather and his family, was so far away.  Safe, but she would never see him again. And if she lived, would that reunion ever happen.

Before I start, Izabela asked that I not name the Polish people who are mentioned in the testimonies.  So I will not name them except for the one I have named before.

This is what happened on the day my great grandmother Chava was murdered from testimony from a trial held in Poland after the war. 

 The first witness is my relative Zissel Feuer, who has played a part in my families Shoah story for years, because he did survive.  Zissel was hiding in the forest of Trzciana.

“I would like to mention that a few days before Goldklang was shot, while I was in the barn of a farmer in Trzciana near the forest, I saw through a crack how Josef S. from Trzciana, together with two other people, were leading Chava Feuer, my aunt;  then I heard from someone that Jozef S. was supposed to take Chava Feuer to the village head in Trzciana.  The village leader in Trzciana was supposed to give a signal.  Then Chava Feuer wsa taken to the German colony of Czermin and handed over to the Germans, who shot Chava.

(Just so his testimony makes sense, A few days later, Zissel heard shots and the sounds of pain, he went to look and saw a man named Jakub Goldklang.  He told him that he had given all his property to a Polish man who was supposed to give him food, but instead another man, Josef Sypek, came and shot him.  (He is mentioned in the book as well.)

Zissel realized he could not help Jakub so we went back into hiding. )

There is testimony that another man who saw the arrival of my great grandmother to the village head, who knew her and called her by the honorific, Gimplowa (Gimple’s wife). 

“Gimplowa,” he said. “Why are you wandering around?  Why can’t you hide somewhere in the forest?”

They knew there were Jews hiding in the forests around Trzciana.  Some of the Polish people were providing them food, even though it could lead to their deaths. Others were turning them in.  This man seems be upset that she is not hiding.

But in reality, it is her answer that breaks my heart.  My grandparents always said that she was a very strong-willed person.  That I reminded them of her because I don’t back down and I say what I think needs to be said.  For me, Chava/Gimplowa’s answer is devastating.

“I don’t care anymore,” she said.  “I have already decided on everything and I can’t stand it any longer.”

Where is the line that keeps a person going;  that says keep living against that line that is defeated?  When do you reach it? It was already April 1943 close to Easter and Passover.  She had been hiding for almost two years.  I don’t fault her, I feel her pain, but my heart says, ‘If only you had waited a bit longer.’

Another witness, a woman who recognized Gimplowa, saw her being taking away by some men she did not recognize.  My great grandmother called out to her by name. and told her: “Stay with G-d.”   Can you imagine that you are being taking to your death and you see someone you know, perhaps a friend, and you tell them “Stay with God”. The woman does not answer. She is probably afraid also of the men she does not recognize.

Another witness states “it happened on Maundy Thursday, at 3 pm in 1944.  (This is the story that was in the book I mentioned earlier.)  Josef S.’s wife called a group of neighbors together and said there was a Jewish woman, Gimplowa, in her house and she did not want to leave.  She said, ‘Do whatever you want with me.’  “

Josef’s wife told the villages to do whatever we wanted, to kill her or to take her somewhere, because if the Germans found out and burned the village, she did not want anyone to blame her for supporting the Jews.  “So we decided to take her by foot to the village head.”

The witness continued: The village head also did not want any responsibility for her.  So he told them to take her to the German colony in Czermin.  She did not want to go there, so she said she was old.  So they got wagons to take her to the colony and hand her over to the German’s mayor Jukub Hesler.  What he did with her, I don’t know, because I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”

He did not know for sure, but he knew.  The witness was asked:

Q: Were you aware that you were leading this Jewish woman to her death?

A: Yes, we were aware of it, but we didn’t want to answer to it. So we brought it to the Germans so they could do whatever they wanted.

I know that fear overcomes kindness.  But this is just too much for my heart and soul.  It’s not our problem, let the Germans handle it.  Even though we know they will kill her.

And one last witness to the last years of my great grandmother’s life.

During the German occupation, the Jewish woman Gimplowa was hiding with other neighbors.  (So at first they did help her.)  But on Good Friday, they were all talking because the Germans had set fire to the town of Bodborz because they believed that the people were hiding Jews there.  So a neighbor who was drunk, made the first move to say we must take the woman who was hiding in my house to the village elder. We all supported this motion. And she was taken to the village elder.

How do you decide what is evil.  My great grandmother was being hidden and helped through Easter of 1943.  But now the Germans were burning villages where they found Jews hiding.  So was it wrong of them to turn Chava over to the Germans?  I, of course, think so.  Why couldn’t they just send her out with some food to the forests?

But my great grandmother said she did not want to leave.  I don’t think she wanted to hide in the forest any longer. She was done.  She was tired.  In my work as a spiritual care volunteer, I have seen what it means when a person tells me that they are very tired.  When they are tired of living. When they want it to end.

My great grandmother wanted it to end.  She was not in physical pain, but I am sure she was in emotional pain.  The only thing I can think and hope is that the Germans shot her in the head and she died quickly. 

I have to consider what she was thinking on the way to her death. Was she thinking about all who died in the past three years? Was she thinking about her son and grandchildren in America who she knew would survive. Did that give her a glimmer of joy.  She had cared for my mom and my uncle for six months in 1931-32.  Perhaps that memory of happy grandchildren helped her on her way to die.

It would be nice to know where she is buried. But I am sure she is in a mass grave somewhere near the town of Mielec or Trzciana. Or perhaps not. I will never know.

Baruch dayan HaEmet.  May her name and memory be forever a blessing.  May her murder by the hands of those who feared and the Nazis bring some goodness into the world. I carry her memory and name with me for all my life.   I hope that as I turn 70, the world veers away from its direction of Jew hatred, or any hatred, and realize we are all one.

(The dates are sometimes a bit off as to when events occurred. There are several different dates for when Chava died. But now we know it was 1943 because it happened after the burning of a certain village.)

The Years of The Shoah: Lieb Sussel Feuer/Zissel Feuer And Schulim/Shalom Hollander

12 Nov

So much information has come my way since Izabela S. contacted me.  But the first in-depth story I must tell is about Zissel Feuer, my grandfather’s second cousin, who married my grandfather’s first cousin. I have learned so many details about how he survived and what he did immediately after the war, before he made aliyah to Israel.

Before the war Zissel was married to my grandfather’s first cousin, Dvorah/Deborah.  Zissel then used the name Sussel or Zygmunt, the Polish version of his name. His life was intertwined with Schulim/Shalom Hollander because they were married to sisters.  Shalom’s wife, Cerla, and Devorah were the daughters of Zacharias, my great grandfather, Gimple’s brother.  My grandfather told me that Shalom and Zissel were his second cousins from opposite sides of his family.  But since his grandparents/or great grandparents were first cousins, there was much intermingling.

Both Zissel and Shalom and their wives lived on a farms in Trzciana close to where my great grandfather had his farm and both Zacharias, the father of their wives and Shalom’s parents had their farms. 

In fact in the document I have, is a list of farms taken from Jewish citizens. The Germans documented everything. Her you can see that seven of my relatives in listed  from 32 to 39: Mendel Amsterdam, Hirsch Feuer, Zacharias Feuer (Dvorah and Cerla’s father), Gimple Feuer (my great grandfather), Markus Amsterdam (Shalom’s father), Schulim (Shalom) Hollander, Sussel Feuer.  They were all inter-related.  My grandfather once told me that this entire plot of land was once owned by his great great grandfather, or even further back.  But with each generation the land was split among the sons.  There was so much intermarriage as they kept the land within the family.

Zissel was a farmer and a corn merchant. I know that they also had potatoes and other crops on their farms.  But it doesn’t matter, they were all forced to turn over their lands to the Germans in 1941.

After they were all forced off their land, Zissel and his wife; Gimple and Chava, my great grandparents; Zacharais,  along with other Jewish farmers, were resettled in Wola Mielecka, a nearby village. Shalom and Cerla and his parents were sent to Mielec where they had a home. And then began their efforts to survive.  I will let you know in advance, only Shalom, Zissel and one other cousins, the son of Zacharias lived.  The rest did not survive.

Much of this information about Zissel comes from the book “Sztetl Mielec. Z Historii mieleckich Zydow” written by Andrzej Krempa that Izabela S. translated for me. (In English, Shtetl Mielec. From The History of the Jews of Mielec.”)  Other information came from documents that Izabela has uncovered and translated for me.  Part is what Izabela and I have determined through our many email conversations and the research I did and memories I took from my grandfather. I will mix her information with the information I know from my family.

So where was Zissel/Sussel and Dvorah during the war after he was removed from his farm?  At first they hid with a man named Stanislaw Wojtusiak in Gliny Male and then with Jozef Padykula in Platkowiec.   At some point Zissel’s wife was exposed by a resident of Trzciana, then murdered by the Germans.  At this point Zissel had to run.  He hid in the Piatkowiec forest near Mielec, near the village of Piatkowiec.

In the meantime, On March 9, 1942 Shalom was sent to a Labor Camp in Mielec. He was then sent to Wieliczka, then to Płaszów. He then became one of the people on Schindler’s List and ended up in Brunnlitz.

 My one issue about this, is that Zissel told me he had two children.  I do not know where they were or their names.  But Izabela told me there is a mass grave near Tarnow where 800 children were murdered and buried.  These children came from the Tarnow orphanage and ghetto. Shalom and Cerla’s children, as well as any child Zissel and Dvorah might have had, if they were not taken to a camp with their parents, may be buried here. Or they could have been shot at the Tranow Jewish Cemetery. Or deported. In any case we do not know exactly where the children are buried.

Zissel spent the time from March 9, 1942, the date that the Jews were rounded up for deportation and many murdered, until April 19, 1944, wandering and hiding around the villages near Mielec.  For part of this time, he hid in Polaniec (July 25 until October 25, 1942).  He left that area after the Jews of Polaniec were deported and returned back to Mielec. 

He was able to stay hidden for a while. But starting in April 1943, the Gestapo was looking for him. They knew there was Jewish man hiding in the woods.  Honestly, I cannot imagine how he survived for so long, having watched so many of his family die and disappear.  But he survived!  I know he had to have help, because his freedom was always in doubt.    Finally in 1944 he was caught by the Polish Forest Administration and turned over to the Germans.  But the slippery and I think smart Zissel, escaped. On his way back from Polaniec he was attacked in the village of Otalezh, which he was stripped and robbed. But he survived.

We know this because he filled out a questionnaire at the Central Committee of Polish Jews after the war.  (Izabela says this document is now in the Jewish Historical Institute.)

Some of the Jews who survived. Zissel and Shalom are on this list.

After the war, he returned to Mielec, where he became the President of the Jewish Religions Congregation in Mielec. He was among the 55-70 Jews who survived.   Zissel, Shalom and a woman named Chava Amsterdam are listed. Zissel was now using the name Lieb Sussel Feuer.  His post war address was Maly Rynek 1.  Shalom also lived at this address for a while after the war.

I think they still had battles for survival after the war.  Padykula, who helped Sussel was accused after the war for helping in the capture of Zissel.  But Shalom Hollander wrote a letter saying this was not true.  That he actually helped not only Zissel, but also Shalom’s son Nissan.  (This is interesting because in his Yad V’Shem list, he details the names of his five children who died. There was no Nissan. There is also no Nissan mentioned on the list of survivors who returned to Mielec. So perhaps it was someone he took care of during the war.)

Zissel did leave Mielec for six months.  He visited his brother, Arthur, in the United States.  I never him.  But I did know that Zissel visited my grandparents.  He is the one who told my grandfather that everyone died during this visit.  I know from Izabela, that Zissel is one of the witnesses for my great grandfather, Gimple’s death. I know how difficult this was for my grandfather.  My mother once told me that after baking all night my grandfather would come upstairs to their apartment and sit and cry with his head on his arms on the table.  Can you imagine, not only finding out that his parents died, but his siblings, his entire family. Of those that stayed in Austria/Poland, I only know of four close cousins who survived. Shalom, Zissel and one of Zacharias’ sons. ( will write about one of the son’s in my next blog.) Shalom moved to Israel and remarried.

Zissel also went to see another brother in Berlin and then on to Israel.  He did not stay in Israel, instead he returned to Poland.  I really cannot understand why he would return, unless he had unfinished business.  Which, from what Izabela told me next, I think I know what he needed to accomplish.

In 1947 he owned an apartment building at 41 Sandomierska Street, where he lived.  As President of the Jewish Congregation, he began the work of fencing in the Jewish Cemetery on Jadernych Street.  But the Provincial Office stopped the work.  This is the Cemetery that Izabela now cares for with a group of volunteers. A few kilometers from the cemetery, at Swierkowa Street, there is another mass grave, where the Holocaust victims from Mielec are burried. In the area of this mass grave, Shalom put a tombstone in memory of his parents Tovah and Marcus/Markus Amsterdam.  (Tovah’s maiden name was Hollander). It is possible that my great grandparents are also buried in this mass grave.

Zissel also gave testimony for the Polish people who helped him, by writing letters to document what they had done.  I have photos of two of these letters, where he mentions Polish people who defended and saved other Jewish people. Two of them are Loen Wanatowicz and Stanislaw Rebis. 

Zissel also testified against those who did evil, included a war criminal named Jek.  He testified that Jek beat Jews and humiliated Jewish women by ordering them to strip naked.  In the Tarnow ghetto he also killed at least three Jewish men.

Besides these testimonies, Izabela told me that there are still rumors about  Zissel stating that he cheated some of the people of Mielec. How so? There were many homes that were now vacant because almost all of the 5000 Jews of Mielec and the surrounding area were murdered in the Shoah. They basically were available for people to move in to without having to pay anyone.   Zissel, as the President of the Jewish Congregation, said that those who survived and returned were descendants of people who owned some of the property. Therefore, the Polish people now living on the property and in the homes had to pay the survivors for the homes and or property.

I told Izabela, since the families were so interrelated it could very well be that they were distant relatives.  But even more important.  They had NOTHING left.  Everyone was dead. Their homes were gone. They had suffered.  In my mind Zissel had done honorable work.  He found a way for these people to get some money to begin their lives anew. Perhaps some of them were not really related to the property owners.  But they did not belong to the people now living in them either.

(On a side note, I once asked my grandfather if he had tried to get compensation from Germany after the war for the death of his parents or his property.  He became very angry and asked the following questions.  “Would getting the money bring my parents back?  Would getting the money bring my brothers back, my sisters?  Would it bring any of my family back?  I don’t want their blood money?”  We never discussed it again.)

When Zissel was done with this work, he left Poland for Israel.  He started using the name that I knew for him, Zissel:  no longer Lieb or Sussul or Zygmunt.   I met him in 1974.  He was living in an apartment near the center of Tel Aviv with another Holocaust survivor.  He worked in a bakery not far from the Shuk HaCarmel, the Carmel Market.

The last time I saw him was in 1976 with my grandmother.  Zissel was not a perfect man.  He stole from my grandmother.  He was a bit of a goniff. But perhaps that is what kept him alive and allowed him to help others after the war.

May his name be for a blessing.  May his memory live on from the blogs I have written.

Previous blogs about Zissel Feuer

Previous blogs about Shalom Hollander

An Unexpected Email Reveals Family Shoah History

30 Oct

In the last week I have been in contact with Izabela S., who lives in Tarnow, Poland, which is close to both Mielec and Trzciana, where my family lived and where they were murdered in the Shoah.   Izabela has been working for the past three years to clean up the Jewish Cemetery and get information about the places where the Jewish residents were murdered and put up plaques to commemorate them in the Mielic area.  She also writes a blog and has a Facebook page to write and remember the Jewish residents who were murdered in the Shoah.  Before the war, of the 10,000 residents in Mielec, 5,000 were Jewish.  After the war, maybe 200 survived!

(See video about Izabela below.)

My quest to find my grandfather’s family started in the late 1970s after I spent time in Israel and met those who survived.  My grandpa lost his entire family in the Shoah, except for a few cousins, and except for his mother, he never knew how his father and siblings died.  I told him that I would find out. It has taken almost 50 years, but I never gave up! Over the years I have written many blogs about them. (Some are linked below.). But I could not find out about three of his siblings.  Now I know more.

But then there is the question?  When you find these things out, do you really want to know?  And are some ways of dying better than other ways.  In the towns my family came from people were burned alive in the synagogue and mikve, starved to death or died of disease in the Lodz Ghetto, gassed at Belzec, shot at a mass grave.  Which is worse? 

I guess I decided that being shot is the kindest way to die among those options.  A distant cousin of mine (Her great grandfather and my grandfather were second cousins, l believe), thought her great great grandparents were burned alive in the synagogue.  She now knows, thanks to Izabela, that they were shot. And in a weird way it is better.  I think.

My family came from the small town of Trzciana. Before the war there were about 1000 people.  The town was known for its windmills.  I can imagine that it was lovely.   Izabela wrote about it this way:

“Jewish families lived in Trzciana: the Amsterdams, the Hollanders, the Brenners, and the Feuers. They were closely related to each other. In  Next is the night: The fate of Jews in selected counties of occupied Poland, vol. II Tomasz Frydel writes that every Sabbath, members of the Amsterdam family from the village of Trzciana went to the synagogue in Czermin, where more Jews lived among the German colonists. This family was widely respected, its members gave grants to the Roman Catholic parish and distributed potatoes and beets to local peasants.”  This was my family.

I knew already how my great grandmother, Chava, died. (See blog below.)  But I now know my grandfather was not killed in Belzec with his son, Shimon.  Instead he was murdered on March 9, 1942 with many others of his family during a round up/deportation and slaughter of Jews.  He was shot in Cieszanow.    I now know that their daughter, Tova, was also in that roundup. But was not killed then. So probably died in one of the camps. I know Jews from Meilec went to four camps, Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka and Majdanek. 

I now know that outside of the town there is a mass grave of 800 Jews.  Many of them my relatives. I know about one for a fact.  Natan Feuer ran.  He was able to get about 50 yards when the Nazis shot him and dragged him back to the pit where they threw him in still alive. And he perished. But Natan story really hits home as my grandfather’s brother was named Nueter/Natan. So is this him? I will never know.

I believe that my grandfather’s cousin, Morris Brenner, who owned a candy store in Linden, NJ, and whom I wrote about before, (See blog below.), had two sisters and a nephew who are buried in the Jewish cemetery on Traugutta Street: Cerla Kleinman nee Brenner, her son David, and sister, Sara Brenner.  His mother, Gital, died in 1941, before the mass murder of the Jews.  I have to admit that gives me a bit of joy. It is nice that someone died a natural death and wasn’t murdered because she was Jewish.

I had heard of the brothers Tuvia, Zus, and Asael Bielski, from the book and the movie Defiance.   I now know that there was also the Amsterdam Brothers, Johanan and Abraham,  who led a group in the forest near Bulcza Mielka called The Amsterdam Group.  According to Izabela, it was a large group of Jews who hid and the core of this group were families from Trzciana.   There were 84 Jews in Trzciana before the war, all related to me.  The two brothers, who had been in the Polish Army before the war, commanded the group.   They built a series shelters and hideouts where they survived the winter of 1943.  They hid in  bunkers and acquired weapons from the peasants as well as gaining them in battles with the police and Germans.  They divided into small groups to keep more people safe.

A survivor named Ryvka Schenker wrote about the conditions in the hidden camp:

“It was very cold back then, the snow fell, You had to be very careful – every step was known. How they went out to the country Shopping, they made their feet like the birds they have. It was made of wood, They made the same traces as birds walked. No one could have Imagine there are people in the middle of the forest. We sat all day very long calmly, one read a lot, others wrote diaries, some embolden images, Everyone made it through that day. We always lived the hope that It will be after the war soon, but it was just a dream.   There were severe frosts, nobody had The right clothes, let’s get out of the field little. The men were more Resilient. We had a lot of water because it froze.”

I am Amazed!  And feel proud that my family tried to survive in every way that they could.

There is so much information it will take me a while to unravel all of the connections and organize in my mind so that I can write about this family that was almost wiped out. My family.  But I felt it was important to write this down when the emotion of discovery was still strong. Baruch Dayan HaEmet.  May their memories live through these remembrance and that we never forget those who have been murdered by hate and evil.

Video of Izabela S.and her work.

About Morris Brenner

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1318997264939643/

Remembering and Looking Forward 

7 Oct

The Anne Frank Center and Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim

When we drove from Asheville to Charleston, before the hurricane, friends of ours who live in Charleston suggested we stop at the Anne Frank Center located on the campus of the University of South Carolina. 

I never expected South Carolina would be the home of one of four Anne Frank Centers in the world, and the only one in the United States, in partnership with the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.  I contacted the Center before our trip and was able to make an appointment to tour the exhibits.

So today, on October 7, 2024, I feel that I must remember the distant past of Jew hatred as we mourn the one year anniversary of the vicious attack on Israel.

The Anne Frank House does an excellent job recreating the feeling of the hidden annex.  While touring the exhibit, visitors will enter a display of Anne Frank’s diary written in many languages on a wall of bookcases.  Not surprisingly one bookcase opens allowing visitors to enter a darkened room that helps tell the story of the Annex.  Having visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, I was amazed about how this small display harkens to the feelings I had in Amsterdam.

Besides the onsite programs, the Anne Frank House also offers traveling exhibits that can be sent across the USA.  They teach local high school or college students to serve as the guides to the 32-panel exhibit. I would love to see this exhibit in my home community!  Our tour at the Anne Frank Center was led by a college sophomore who was doing her first tour for us and her dad!  Emma did a great job. I could see that she related to the world of Anne.

Going to the Anne Frank Center and remembering her words of hope help me see hope in the situation that we have in the Middle East today.  There are good people who want this violence to stop.  Who want terrorists to end their campaign of hatred.  No one wants innocents, like Anne Frank, to suffer or die.  So I have to believe there will be peace.

My feelings of hope continued in Charleston where we visited the 275-year-old Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim synagogue, founded in 1749. It is the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the United States. The current building dates from 1841, after a fire in 1838 destroyed the second building.

 Originally a Sephardic synagogue with the bima in the center and balconies above for the women, it changed in 1879, when the bima moved to the front and women joined men in siting for services. Later, after the earthquake of 1886, the balconies were destroyed and were not replaced.

Standing in a building that has housed a congregation since 1840, almost 190 years, and knowing that the congregation itself is 275 years old gives me hope. This congregation has survived the Revolutionary War, Civil War, WW1, WW2, antisemitism, the creation of the State of Israel, the rise of the alt right in the south, and more.  The fact that it continuous to be an active congregation gives me hope.

Today, I remember my feelings on October 7, 2023, when my daughter called me from Israel to say she and her husband were okay, but that the situation was very bad. The entire country was in shock.  Everyone knows someone who died.  For me, although I knew no one, I do know people who lost family members and friends.  The past cannot be forgotten. However with education, like that of the Anne Frank Center, and endurance like that of Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim, I believe we can look forward with hope to the future.

https://sc.edu/study/colleges_schools/education/partnerships_outreach/anne_frank/index.php

https://www.kkbe.org

Viroshov/Wieruszow: A Jewish Community Destroyed

28 Aug

With the days quickly leading up to Tisha B’Av, I cannot get the destruction of my grandparent’s families out of my mind. After writing about Boleslawiec and its small Jewish community, I feel it is important to write about a town that lies six miles away.  The town where my great grandmother Sarah Manes grew up: Viroshov/Wieruszow.

When I realized there were so few Jewish citizens of Boleslawiec, I had to reconsider some of the stories my Grandma told me about growing up.  She always talked about all her cousins and spending time with them.  Then I remembered, she told me about spending time with her grandmother Klindell Manes, and that is where she saw her cousins, in the town of Viroshov.   It took me a while to figure out that Viroshov, was Yiddish for Wieruszow.

All those stories she told me were about her Manes cousins. Those were the cousins I had met in Israel so long ago.  (See blogs below.)

I was right.  And once again I am forced to forgive my 20-year-old self for not paying enough attention.  For not wanting to hear the horrible stories.  For tuning out, while trying to escape from the seemingly endless number of survivors who insisted on seeing Grandma during our month-long stay in Israel in 1976.

I have written about several of these survivors and what I discovered. (See blog below.). And I even wrote about my Grandma’s cousin Dora before.  But now I need to revisit Dora and tell more of her story.

I now understand why her daughter was so protective of her when she called to set up a meeting with my Grandma.  I now have rachmanes, in my mature years, that I did not have as much in my youth.  I tried to be as courteous as possible, but I truly did not understand the undercurrents of everything that occurred.

Grandma had survived the war by being in the USA. She had saved her father and her sister by bringing them out of Europe in 1936.  In fact, their family did not know that my great aunt had escaped, and had even added her to the Yitzkor book of the town!

My grandmother and her children were safe.  She did not need to remake her life.  But Dora and so many others had had a different reality.   I now know Dora’s reality.  And I feel, once again, the burden of knowing someone, but not really understanding and knowing what happened.

Dora was married before the war, in 1924, a few months before my grandparents.  She and her husband survived.  But her mother, who was my great grandmother’s sister, Mascha, did not survive.  Her father, Eliazer, did not survive.  Her brother, Wolf, and her sister Yocheved, did not survive.  In all 13 people with the last name Manes, and more related to the family,  from Wieruszow were murdered.

Before the war, in 1921, there were 2300 Jews in the community of Wieruszow, making up 36 percent of the population.  In 1939, before the Nazis invaded there were 2400.  That all changed.  The Jewish community was slowly decimated. By 1940 there were 1740 Jews.  In September 1941 a ghetto was opened where 1200 Jews were imprisoned.  Then between August 11 and 23 the ghetto was ‘liquidated.’ I hate that word.  Just say the Jews were killed and moved to Concentration Camps.  This time, Chelmo.   But before they were taken, the old and sick were shot.

In April 21, 1942, there was a mass murder of Jews and a mass grave for 86 people was dug in the Jewish cemetery.   But, of course, that did not survive because the Nazis also had to wipe out cemeteries to destroy the memories.  The tombstones were used for pavers. The cemetery was dismantled.  But 100 tombstones still remain.   I doubt I would find my great great grandparents and great grandparents gravesites.

However, that mass grave gave me another clue to my family.  A stone was laid on the mass grave by a man with the last name Majerowicz.   That sent a shock through me as well.  Because in Israel, I also knew a man with the last name Majerowicz.   He was also my Grandma’s first cousin.  But he was a bit different.  I wrote about him because his sister was Grandma’s first cousin and best friend. His mother and my grandmother’s mother were sisters.

In all there were 135 names in the Yad VaShem database with the last name Majerowicz, or some similar spelling that perished in Viroshov/Wieruszow.  I noticed that many were duplicates, so perhaps only 80 people were listed.  And although not all were related to me, once again I will claim them as being related. Because I feel I must.

Now there are over 8600 people live in Wieruszow.  In a town that was once 36 percent Jewish, there are no Jews.  The cemetery is destroyed.  The original mikveh, where many Jews were murdered by the Nazis is gone.  There is just a list, a yitzkor book and some memories.

Once again thank you to Virtual Shetl, the Yad Vashem Database, Jewish Gen, and the Viroshov Yitzkor book.

https://zicharonot.com/2014/04/28/speaking-yiddish-always-brings-me-holocaust-memories/

https://zicharonot.com/2015/11/03/who-are-you-these-photos-call-out-to-me/

https://zicharonot.com/2016/10/01/the-rosh-hashannah-card-has-a-story/

https://zicharonot.com/2018/06/07/the-sorrow-of-shalom-hollander/