Read reflections and testimonies written by Holocaust survivors in their own words.
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The Painting of a Holocaust Experience
November 15, 2022
The photo I’ll describe is of a painting, realistically depicting a moment in my husband, Marcel’s, Holocaust experience. It was painted by the Bringing the Lessons Home ambassadors, a group of Washington, DC, students studying the Holocaust and expressing what they learn through art.
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What Makes a Good Relationship
November 14, 2022
My wife and I have been living together for more than half a century, 54 years to be precise. I would not say that the sky has always been blue, or without clouds, or we have always been living in perfect harmony, but we are still together after all these years, and that is some accomplishment.
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How My Father’s Force of Spirit Willed Us to Live: His Puzzling Dream and Bravery
November 14, 2022
Dear reader, did you see my father’s eyes darting fire? It is here in this book, a photograph of him with a mustache. He was the one who saved us. He turned desperation into defiance. He carried us over the inescapable and he did it from a distance. His will to live drove us. My mother listened to his words, and I sensed him in my spirit. He actually willed us to live. His eyes never regained that mellow look, not until the war was over. He was polite with people, passing as my mother’s caring friend. He never gave himself away in any manner, except that his eyes burned.
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They Called Me by My Name!
November 10, 2022
Before my mother and I immigrated to the United States, she had told me precious little about the town in Poland where she was born. Even the name of the town was somewhat of a mystery.
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My Sister Irena
October 7, 2022
My sister, Irena, was born on the 4th of July 1936. As a child she was blond and blue-eyed. Her nickname is Mila, which in Polish means nice. Mila and I had an idyllic childhood, playing together at the grounds of the lumber factory where my father worked.
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My Street
October 7, 2022
After the war, coming from Drohobycz in December 1945, I lived on Fredry 18 Street in Wałbrzych, Poland.
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Adapting
September 30, 2022
How difficult it is to identify one thing I learned from all the different people who raised me. My parents, of course, were the first people I must think about. My instinct tells me they took advantage of an opportunity, and trusted family and strangers. I think this trust was really learning to adapt to new situations.
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If Only I Had Pictures
February 4, 2021
I lost my family in the Holocaust. I also lost the images of my past. Everything was destroyed: my home, my material possessions, including nearly every picture. Most importantly, none of my relatives survived. I was one of two children who survived the Holocaust from my town of Dokszyce in eastern Poland, now Belarus. The town’s Jewish population was about 3,000 before the Holocaust. Only a dozen or so survived.
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Home Sweet Home
December 28, 2020
I am an old man. I just turned 79. During my life I have lived in many places but only a few of them would I call home.
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Reunited
October 22, 2020
I was asked to speak in the Hall of Remembrance at the Museum’s International Holocaust Remembrance Day commemoration of the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. After all these years of never wanting to speak in a large public setting, I was hesitant. Yet, one day as I was driving, I suddenly saw myself speaking at a lectern and knew that I had decided to say yes to the request.
