Germany: Roots & Remembrance

DNA analysis confirmed what I already knew: I am 100% German Jewish. On this date some years ago, my German-born parents happily welcomed me into the world.

My wonderful, supportive husband (who would rather we were almost anywhere else in the world) gave me the silver necklace I’m wearing today, filled with a 1920 buffalo nickel to remind me of my American heritage. I love it.

This trip is hard. Every day we have spoken about the Holocaust, met people who are working on memorials or are otherwise focused on preserving Jewish history, or spoke to high school students. There is no escape, even on my birthday.

We have travelled far to remember my family. I felt the need to find the graves of my great-great-grandmother and her daughter because I may not return. In the wet, weedy grass, some of it chest-high, I found their graves and recited Kaddish (the Jewish memorial prayer), with tears in my eyes. Every day, something gets me choked up in Germany.

As we were leaving the cemetery, we met Barbara, who is on a bike trip. We stopped to chat. Barbara said that her parents and grandparents were silent on the Holocaust, saying that they had known nothing. During the unrest of 1968, teenage Barbara and her friends rebelled and demanded the truth from their elders.

I stood at my great-grandparents’ doorstep to pay tribute to them.

Next, we met Georg, Gaby and Iris for a tour of Miltenberg’s Jewish past. All three work to preserve the history of Jewish Germans. Georg and Gaby organized the installation of 44 Stolpersteine (stumbling stones) in Miltenberg and have helped families understand the history of this town. It is unfortunate that former synagogues here have no signs indicating their history. Outlines left by mezuzot can be seen on some houses.

This is not an easy topic to digest, particularly on one’s birthday.

My birthday lunch was at the Riesen Hotel. No one knows exactly how old it is, but official documents date it to 1411.

The same star is on the coat of arms at our hotel, founded in 1881. It’s a relative newcomer to the neighborhood.

Jeffrey and I walked along the lovely Main River at the end of the day.

We had a few moments between birthday calls to relax.

I am grateful to have been born in the USA, and thankful that my grandparents got my parents and themselves out of Nazi Germany before it was too late.

I never have met an immigrant who didn’t miss the sights, sounds and smells of home. For me, America is home. At the Passover Seder, Jews say “next year in Jerusalem”; today I say, next year in New York City with my family for my birthday.

Tomorrow it’s off to the Freund family hometown of Kleinwallstadt and nearby Elsenfeld for two more presentations to high school students.

To read prior essays, click HERE.