Just in case you didn’t think we were staying at a classy hotel, there is a glass candy dish at the front desk. I unwrapped a candy and put it in my mouth before I noticed it had my name printed on the wrapper. In Polish, wiśnia means cherry. You can find Wisnias in lots of things: cake, soup, vodka. The famous Polish black cherry liquer is called Wiśniak. And it’s not just food. Just outside of Warsaw there is Wiśniowa Street, which can be found not far from Wiśnia river, which runs alongside Wiśnia mountain. My research team is going to have to figure out which came first: the Wisnia or the Black Cherry. Regardless, I’m coming home with a handful of Wisnias in my pocket.
On the train back to Warsaw with My Polish Wisnia.
I am still sorting through a lot of emotions and thoughts after spending time in Auschwitz. My grandfather had taken me 11 years ago as well, but this time has been different. I am feeling more of a connection to Poland itself. I am feeling more connected to the family I never knew as my grandfather points out all of his memories. Perhaps this is bound to happen when the blood of your family is still so fresh in the ground.
Pickled cabbage, baked rolled chicken, and kluski. This plate could not possibly be any more Polish.
KLUSKI [KLOO-skee] pl noun: generic Polish name for all kinds of soft, mushy dumplings, usually without a filling; distinct from pierogi and stand-alone pasta dishes; there are many different types of kluski, differing in basic ingredients and preparation method (singular: klusek or kluska) usage: “I’m up to my kluskis in kluski.”
Dirty Jokes & Apple Juice. My grandfather knows how to throw a dinner party.
After the 70th Anniversary ceremony at the Auschwitz concentration camp, many of the survivors returned for dinner to the Dialogue Center – an old convent located very close to the camp that was housing many of us for the days leading up to the event. It seems these days had been intense for everyone. Reliving the memories of this place – in stories and in interviews and in conversation, over and over again – while the demolished gas chambers and barbed wire sit just across the street. There was a slight feeling of release as we had nowhere else to be, and all that was left to do for the day was eat.
My grandfather and I sat with Alina and her granddaughter Ewa, as we had for several meals at the Dialogue Center this week. Their English was much better than my Polish. Alina learned her English in Auschwitz, where she was sent as a Polish political prisoner, as a non-Jew, and she and my grandfather had compared their imprisonment. Tonight, there were smiles, and there was laughter – as there actually had been consistently for the past few days, too. My grandfather and Alina broke into song a few times around the table, singing Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen. Ewa and I talked about music and living in Warsaw and TV (though the fact the we watched two different incarnations of 90210 made me feel super old), and we talked about hearing stories from our grandparents and what it was like to come to Auschwitz with them.
Meeting children and grandchildren of survivors is an experience I’ve never really had before, and it has been so eye-opening. I would come down to the lobby each night expecting to quietly check my email, and I would routinely go to bed at 2 or 3 in the morning because of the new people I was meeting. I never could have expected that I would be walking away from my time here with these new friends and intimate connections. Hearing these other people retell their family history, and how their families have incorporated and dealt with this massive trauma. We all have survivors in our family. Their stories are our stories. When my grandfather is gone, his story will be my story. Even now, it is a part of my history. It always will be.
Today commemorates the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz Death Camp, International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
We started in Warsaw, where my grandfather grew up. We traveled through the Polish countryside to end up where my grandfather ended up, in Auschwitz. He often says he has two lives: one before the war, and one after the war. It was immensely intense to witness those two worlds overlapping here. We spent a couple days in Oświęcim looking over old documents, meeting with other survivors, hearing their stories, comparing notes, meeting with journalists, answering questions. To have it culminate in this solemn event in a giant tent with 3,000 people and heads of state, turning this place briefly into something else, was surreal. But it was also moving and powerful.
This is video I took of my grandfather singing “El Malei Rachamim” – a prayer for the souls of the departed, at the Auschwitz 70th Anniversary Event.
His voice reverberated inside every person in the room, the silence between phrases hung heavy. I am in awe of this man.
I know some of you were able to watch this event live (and even saw us on screen) – i had no idea that was even possible! Thank you to everyone that has forwarded me links and articles, here are a couple about the event…