Splendid stories. Our family was unquestionably Jewish, and very minimally observant: Yom Kippur and Passover were the two markers in the year. Passover was celebrated in our father's father's house. We used Hagaddot that were almost falling apart; my sister and I learned the Four Questions in a Hebrew that was pronounced the way our grandfather had pronounced it in Bereczacz--Hungary then, now Belarus. In 1939 my father, who then was 39 years old, became involved with the Joint Distribution Committee; its focus then was largely on the Jewish world. With the support of his partners, he took a leave of absence from the firm and became an "ambassador" for the JDC. Twice he went to Europe before WW II to talk to Jewish leaders in England; on one of those trips he went also to Austria where he met with Eichmann to negotiate for the emigration of Jews Austria. He, as the agent of the JDC, was prepared to present a "ransom".... No success (as we all know). Two days later he was in Germany on the same mission--it was the day after Kristalnacht. As soon as WW II began he went into the Navy, in charge (as we've often said) of a battered desk in Washington, DC (he was too old to go to sea). In 1944 the Navy allowed him to take a leave of absence so that he could return to his work with the JDC. He went to London, blitz or no blitz, and began helping to make arrangements for the Jews who had survived. This work continued until mid 1946. At that point he came back to the USA and resumed his life as a husband, father, son--and businessman. He never talked about what he had seen or done in Europe. My own more formal identity as a Jew began two days after I arrived in Cambridge to start my freshman year at Radcliffe. My cousin Jeremy called, invited me to have ice cream, and asked, "What are you doing for Rosh haShanah?" "Um, er...." I said. "Hillel," said Jeremy, and took me to the Reform services so that we could sit together. My identification has grown stronger through the years; that's why I am and have been so admiring of the work of the Jewish Women's Archive. It keeps alive--and invites us all to keep alive the memories of our parents, grandparents, cousins: our worlds of being Jewish and American, observant and almost not observant, learned, ignorant--and the opportunity to be aware of our history and our hopes.
Splendid stories. Our family was unquestionably Jewish, and very minimally observant: Yom Kippur and Passover were the two markers in the year. Passover was celebrated in our father's father's house. We used Hagaddot that were almost falling apart; my sister and I learned the Four Questions in a Hebrew that was pronounced the way our grandfather had pronounced it in Bereczacz--Hungary then, now Belarus. In 1939 my father, who then was 39 years old, became involved with the Joint Distribution Committee; its focus then was largely on the Jewish world. With the support of his partners, he took a leave of absence from the firm and became an "ambassador" for the JDC. Twice he went to Europe before WW II to talk to Jewish leaders in England; on one of those trips he went also to Austria where he met with Eichmann to negotiate for the emigration of Jews Austria. He, as the agent of the JDC, was prepared to present a "ransom".... No success (as we all know). Two days later he was in Germany on the same mission--it was the day after Kristalnacht. As soon as WW II began he went into the Navy, in charge (as we've often said) of a battered desk in Washington, DC (he was too old to go to sea). In 1944 the Navy allowed him to take a leave of absence so that he could return to his work with the JDC. He went to London, blitz or no blitz, and began helping to make arrangements for the Jews who had survived. This work continued until mid 1946. At that point he came back to the USA and resumed his life as a husband, father, son--and businessman. He never talked about what he had seen or done in Europe. My own more formal identity as a Jew began two days after I arrived in Cambridge to start my freshman year at Radcliffe. My cousin Jeremy called, invited me to have ice cream, and asked, "What are you doing for Rosh haShanah?" "Um, er...." I said. "Hillel," said Jeremy, and took me to the Reform services so that we could sit together. My identification has grown stronger through the years; that's why I am and have been so admiring of the work of the Jewish Women's Archive. It keeps alive--and invites us all to keep alive the memories of our parents, grandparents, cousins: our worlds of being Jewish and American, observant and almost not observant, learned, ignorant--and the opportunity to be aware of our history and our hopes.