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Golanski's Treasures

~ a novel

Golanski's Treasures

Tag Archives: Final Solution

NEVER AGAIN!

18 Wednesday Apr 2012

Posted by Golanskis Treasures in anti-Semitism, Genocide, History, Holocaust

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

6 Million, Auschwitz, books, Day of Remembrance, Elie Wiesel, Final Solution, Genocide, Hitler, holocaust, Jews, John Donne, Martyr, Nazi, Poland, World War II, YOM HASHOAH

YOM HASHOAH – REMEMBERING THE MARTYRS

Yom HaShoah Memorial Candle

No man is an island, entire onto itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.

I have long felt John Donne’s eloquent statement to be a somber reminder of what should be a basic tenet of human existence. How different might our world have been had such ideals dominated Europe from 1939 – 1945. Instead, our human family was indeed diminished.

Six million Jews and millions of others were systematically annihilated in the penultimate pogrom we have come to know as THE HOLOCAUST: Communists, Czechs, Greeks, Gypsies, homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, mentally and physically handicapped, Poles, Resistance fighters, Russians, Serbs, Socialists, Spanish Republicans, trade unionists, Ukrainians, Yugoslavians, prisoners of war of many nations, and countless others.

Those  who perished were lost to the world in body, but not spirit, for as long as we remember them, they live on.  And so we remember. And in remembering we honor the innocent, and reaffirm our condemnation of the guilty. We remember in the hope that in so doing such crimes will not be repeated.

We will remember them in services around the world today during YOM HASHOAH, “The Day of Remembrance.”  We will be moved by speakers, some who survived the conflagration. We will voice heartfelt prayers and light memorial candles. We will reflect upon man’s inhumanity to man as perpetuated by the Nazi killing machine in Europe. We will realize the immensity of the crime — six million Jews. Two-thirds of Europe’s Jewish pre-WWII population, and half the world’s pre WWII Jewish population.

In 1989 the Holocaust became irrevocably real to me as I explored the killing grounds of Auschwitz while traveling on behalf of Spertus Museum of Judaica.  I was not obligated to visit, but felt a that bearing witness to the Holocaust was a responsibility – a moral imperative. Walking past displays of “physical evidence” I kept reminding myself that “but for the Grace of God….” It was a sobering and life-changing experience.

Years later, immersed in writing, my fingers froze as they were poised above my computer’s keyboard. I was uncertain as to how to tackle the chapter where my fictionalized character (Holocaust Survivor Max Golanski) visited the death camp where he had been imprisoned.  I simply couldn’t wrap my brain around it. Knowing the impact visiting Auschwitz had upon ME, I was stymied as to how to enter the skin of one who had actually lived that horrific truth, then returned to renew his tie to the time, place and events as a living witness.

As happens sometimes among those of us who are either blessed (or condemned) to write, I finally removed myself from the process and let Max tell his story. I typed at a rapid clip, through closed eyes as my heart drummed madly against the walls of my chest.  The chapter quickly evolved into a surreal ballet. I was there only to serve as scribe.

To honor the memories of the innocents murdered in the Holocaust, I offer the following selection from that chapter of  GOLANSKI’S TREASURES.  May the memories of the Martyrs be a blessing, and may we live to see a day where “Never Again” is no longer a prayer, but a reality.

(NOTE:  Quoted text is copyright protected by Sue Ross, 2012 and remains the exclusive property of the author.  Use of this material without permission is prohibited.)

Max entered a darkened room made smaller by the omnipresence of a large urn.  Its circumference was the size of a mature tree’s trunk, yet stood only a few feet tall.  The focal point of the room, the simple and unadorned urn beckoned Max to approach.

Slowly walking forward he stopped abruptly, as if confronted by a hidden barrier.  Noticing a sign in Polish, he drew closer to read the faded words, then pulled back abruptly, his breath wrenched from his chest.  Suspended in time, Max felt the presence of invisible sentries hovering nearby.  Stepping back a few paces his heart slowly absorbed the simple words inscribed.  The simple clay urn cradled precious ashes collected from the ovens.  Ashes taken from the nameless, faceless, countless, unknown souls who had perished in the crematoria.

Reaching a trembling hand towards the vessel, Max felt a bolt of electricity course through his body as his hand made contact.  Was he touching the cheek of his beloved wife?  The shoulder of his childhood friend?  Had the ashes of a young Russian soldier co-mingled with an old Gypsy woman with flashing gold-earrings, or a sympathetic Catholic priest who dared to object?  Was that the laughter of a small girl?  The sobbing of an old woman?  Were those the persistent and distinctly melodious strains of a violin crying with her?

As he withdrew his hand, Max’s breath swooped back into his lungs leaving him gasping and light-headed.  Closing his eyes he sighed deeply.  A long, thin puff of air escaped his lips.  Max was reminded that the Third Reich’s perverted quest for world domination was built upon subjugating and exterminating all non-Aryans.  Its malignant vision left no one people holding a monopoly on suffering.  Death had become the great equalizer.

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“Family is Everything!”

23 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by Golanskis Treasures in Holocaust, Jewish Culture & Traditions

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

blog, books, Eastern Europe, family, Final Solution, holocaust, Jewish, jewish genealogy, Poland, Shoah, shtetl, the Chosen People

“Family is everything!” Mama used to say.  Yet, I never realized just how important everything was until I had nothing.  Until my family was consumed by the hatred and misguided megalomania of a single lunatic, who crafted “The Final Solution” as the way to rid the world of all that was precious to me.

People generally understand the Holocaust as one of history’s darkest periods.  Yet, that understanding is framed by viewing footage from newsreels where the Jews of Eastern Europe become familiar as victims — black and white images of naked skeletal remains stacked up like kindling, or victims-in-waiting kneeling before open pits, Nazi soldiers standing behind them with rifles poised.  Or iconic images of a young boy with his hands raised above his head.

Then, of course, are the numbers.  The sheer volume of those destroyed in the first genocide where science was employed to systematically destroy those selected by a virtual killing machine.  6 million souls.  Two-thirds of Eastern Europe’s Jewish population.  Gone.  Murdered.

Yet, each of those 6 million were members of families like mine in a culture that lived and breathed family from every pore.  My family was much like yours, the only difference perhaps that we lived in shtels (Jewish villages) and cities in Poland.  We were born, lived, loved and laughed — just like your families.  We made our livings in a variety of ways, from working in farming communities to city butcher shops.  We sought our degrees in institutions of higher learning, studied art, became professionals, fell in love and married.  We debated the finer philosophical points raised by history’s great minds, and immersed ourselves in worship to the God who was the center of our existence.  We harbored the same hopes and dreams as every living soul.

Yet, as Jews, we stood in the same shadows of fear occupied by our ancestors from the moment we chose God, and he in turn chose us for our love of Him and dedication to his ways.  Being “The Chosen People,” was never easy, and when I was young I wished that God would choose somebody else for a change.  But me and my family — Mama and Popa, brother Izzy, sister Miri, wife Sarah, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins – were born into times and circumstances where choosing and being chosen framed our existence.  Our choices defined our humanity, informed our destinies and shaped our relationships with God.

Like you, we were born into a world where God gave us the freedom to choose how to act, or react to the world around us.  Yes, “Family is everything,” but we are all extended family, aren’t we?  So, as family, I invite you to get to know more about my world, for within that world you may discover some pieces of your own.

A blog is a personal connection in today’s impersonal universe.  I will attempt to keep my scribe busy as she relates some of the stories of my life, but most can be found in the book she has been working on for the past 12 years.  Her book – MY book – is called “Golanski’s Treasures.”  Until it is ready to be brought forth into the world, perhaps we can become acquainted through this blog.  Feel free to ask questions, or join conversations.  No need to stand on formalities – speak right up!  This is a dialogue.  Speak your mind, but please be considerate of one another, me and my family, and your writer Sue Ross along the way.  It’s easy to stay in touch.  Just click on the “follow” button at the left and you’ll be notified of new posts.

Thank you,

Max Golanski

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