Archive for the ‘Jewishness’ Category

Plagues

April 17th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in Damn, evil, fuck, hilarity, I love New York, Jewishness, mortification

Passover begins Monday night at sundown. During Passover, Jews celebrate our liberation from slavery in Egypt. Last year, I wrote about how my family observed Passover when I was growing up, and I spent some time exploring the ten plagues: (blood; frogs and lice; flies and dead livestock; boils and hail; locusts and darkness; and the death of the first born. After the tenth plague, Pharaoh more or less really let the Jews free, except that he changed his mind, had his troops chase them to the Red Sea, and they wound up drowning.

Today, however, two plagues seem to have struck my home. First, I broke out in an insane heat rash a few days ago. The itchiness is killing me. I’ve been using generic Benadryl, which helps, and smearing cortisone cream over my body as though it were sunscreen. While I’ll gladly take the rash over lice and/or boils, it is still really unpleasant. Nothing but cold showers for me in the foreseeable future. Ugh.

Then Husband and I were visited by the six-legged plague of many a New York apartment, and I am not talking about locusts or flies. As I rubbed cortisone onto my back, I heard Husband scream, then seem to stumble. I ran out of the bathroom and found him pressing his shoe into the ground? “Did you trip? Are you OK?” I asked. “No, there’s a roach!” he yelled. A ginormous waterbug had run across the hallway. “Get a paper towel!”

The problem with one roach is that there is never one roach. We sprayed raid, I spread more Maxforce gel, and replaced old bait stations with new ones. Then I scratched my itchy skin a lot. We didn’t have to wait long. Husband yelled and I smashed the vile critter with an empty Kleenex box.

Whatever I need to do, I will do it. Just end these plagues and don’t send more my way!

Tags:

Speculating

April 6th, 2011 by Suzanne | 2 Comments | Filed in family, Jewishness

A few weeks ago, I ordered a genealogical DNA kit from Family Tree DNA, which works with the Jewish genealogy site JewishGen. I picked the Family Finder package, which uses autosomal DNA to look at five generations of genetic information and matches it to other people in the database, even though it was beaucoup dollars. I figured that this was the best way to find potential missing relatives, although I debated having my dad take the test since I was most interested in finding relatives on his side of the family since I know my mother’s side.

The kit arrived within a week and the directions were easy enough. As I scraped the inside of my cheek with the paper wand-scraper thing, I reminded myself not to expect much. The odds of finding missing relatives from my father’s father’s family were pretty much zero in general, plus I would only find out about other people who used Family Tree DNA. I sent the test tubes back and waited.

Last night I received my results. The test located a batch of 3rd and 4th cousins, which was interesting. I’d never heard any of their names or their family names. The test also pointed to one person as a potential 2nd cousin.

At first, I didn’t think too much of it. The whole cousin relationship issue has long confused me (what’s the difference between a first cousin once removed and a second cousin?), so the implications of a second cousin escaped me. But when I looked up a “cousins chart,” I learned that second cousins share a great grandparent.

Again, I was initially not too excited. Then, as I was going to bed, I thought about it. If this person shares a great grandparent with me, then it must mean that their grandparent is a sibling of one of my grandparents. I am 99% sure that I know all of my grandma and grandpa’s (my mom’s parents) nieces and nephews (they are my mom’s first cousins), and I know all of my Bubbe’s nieces and nephews (my dad’s first cousins). The only people I don’t know are my grandfather’s (my dad’s father) nieces and nephews. It seems that this person, then, would be one of them.

If the DNA test is right and that is true – and I have goosebumps while I am writing this – then it means that one of my grandfather’s sister’s children managed to survive the Holocaust. It that is true, and this person replies to my email, then I might not only have one relative from my grandfather, but I might also find out more about his family.

I hate speculating about this because it is too much to think about. I have wanted to find someone from my grandfather’s side ever since I was a girl. Maybe the test is inaccurate. (Jews have a lot of genes in common since we tended to intermarry all the time; a New York Times article that came out a few months ago said that basically all Jews are 5th cousins at worst. The test also indicated that 100% of my genes are from Jews who came out of the Middle East at some point.) Maybe I am not fully understanding the “cousins chart.” Maybe this person will not reply to my email, which would devastate me. Maybe a lack of response would devastate me even more than hearing from the person and learning that we are not really related after all. Maybe, depending on whether or not I get a response and what it is, I should throw down another $300 and see if my dad matches this person as a first cousin. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It’s the closest I’ve come to finding an answer since I learned through Yad Vashem in 2004 that my grandfather’s sister’s husband Icchak (whose name I had never known) survived the Holocaust. When I tracked down his surviving relatives, I was very happy to meet them, but unbearably disappointed when they told me that he tried to tell them about his family killed in the Holocaust but that they didn’t want to hear it, so they knew nothing about my great aunt. I have to tell myself that this is probably what will happen again, but in the meantime, all the maybes are boosting my hopes.

My fingers are crossed.

Tags: , ,

At the Museum

February 4th, 2011 by Suzanne | 2 Comments | Filed in Jewishness, mortification, sadness

Yesterday I went to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum.  It was a big day for field trips.  The exhibits were jammed with kids of various ages, some serious and some running amok.  It was hard to concentrate.  As I sped through the halls to get ahead of them, I walked by a group of boys.  “This is a very sad place,” I overheard a young man remark to his friends.  They agreed.  I silently did as well.

Before the kids caught up with me again, I was able to read about Hannah Senesh in peace for a few minutes.  She was a young poet who had moved to Palestine before the war, but volunteered to go back to Europe as a saboteur to save Jews.  She was caught and sentenced to death.  Before her execution, she wrote a poem with the following lines:

I could have been twenty-three next July;
I gambled on what mattered most,
The dice were cast.  I lost.

The rowdy crowd surrounded me while I tried not to cry too hard.  By the time I entered the last exhibit of the museum, which was about post-Holocaust life, the school groups had gone.  I sat down to watch a long looping film in which survivors spoke about various experiences, such as the three survivors who were part of an uprising at the Sobibor death camp.  I heard some people behind me sniffling as I did the same.  A woman in the film implored, “Remember the agony of the survivors who had to live with the memories (of their loved ones)… who can never touch them, never have them back.”  Her face was contorted and her voice broke.

I thought about my grandfather and the door he shut on his past.  As I cried my semi-private tears, I heard someone behind me doing the same.  This world is a very sad place indeed. 

Tags: ,

Bus Journies

February 3rd, 2011 by Suzanne | 1 Comment | Filed in Jewishness, random, sadness

Given that I am only semi-employed, I thought I should take advantage of my time and try to advance my writing. I have two stories that are (more or less) polished and (mostly) good for the right, discriminating, classy, and wonderful literary magazine to publish. I’ve been doing research to find this elusive magazine and sending stories out to what I hope are good candidates. Thus far, I have two rejections, both of which came not long after I submitted the work; one publication that has been considering a story for over four months now, which is way better than an immediate rejection and excites me; and three submissions that I just sent so it is too early to know.

As a person from a non-literary world, my second biggest struggle (after writing) is understanding how these places work. I decided that I should attend the Association of Writers & Writing Programs Conference in DC. Not only will the expo have tons of literary magazines to peruse and editors to chat up (assuming I garner the courage to do so; I suck at these things), but I can also go back to the US Holocaust Museum to do research.

I booked a bus ticket leaving this morning at 7:30. I am hoping that the rush hour traffic will not add too much time onto my 4.5 hour bus ride, but I am bringing extra materials to occupy myself (should I not fall asleep) just in case. A few weeks ago, Husband put “Shoah,” a nine hour Holocaust documentary, onto my laptop at my request. Not to be glib, but that should not only occupy me on a loooooong bus ride that I hope will not be too looooong, but also get me in the right mind frame (I know that sounds horrible) for my afternoon at the Museum.

Hopefully no one will be sitting next to me on the bus as I bawl my eyes out and my nose runs everywhere. I can’t imagine that would be a pleasant experience, although at least I’ll be quiet about it. Husband once took a bus from New York City to visit me in Chicago (I know!) and sat next to someone who hocked up mucus in a bag for 10 hours until he disembarked in Cleveland to change buses at 4 am. This also makes me grateful for the

Blood Libel

January 12th, 2011 by Suzanne | 16 Comments | Filed in evil, Jewishness, mortification, What is wrong with people?

I planned to write a lighthearted post today about using pliers to zip things. That story will have to wait. I was very upset this weekend by the shooting that took place in Arizona, but a lot of people were writing about it, and I didn’t have anything to add to their poignant and thoughtful – and yes, sometimes, angry – words.

Then Sarah Palin released her video statement. I’m not going to pretend that I watched it; I didn’t. I did not not watch it because I was sick of the people who take no responsibility for their words and actions accusing people like me of taking no responsibility for our words and actions. I didn’t watch it because someone told me that Palin claimed that there was a blood libel against her.

It’s hard to write this because I’m so upset that I’m crying, and the tears are obstructing my vision and my nose is running and it’s a mess. Blood libels have been used against Jews for centuries in Europe. They are accusations that Jews (or in some cases other minorities) kill Christian children to use their blood for religious reasons. They always led to extreme violence against Jews. They were always strummed up by high powered authorities as ways to incite mobs and let them feel justified in murdering and maiming. Almost always a blood libel conveniently was manufactured by officials when they needed to get pressure off of themselves for their failures and blame others. The insidiousness of blood libels touch multiple levels of human failure.

One of the most recent and infamous blood libels took place in Kielce, Poland in July 1946. When police/government officials/local citizens manufactured a story about a missing Christian boy, a mob – comprised also of police and government officials – rampaged. About 40 (out of the 200 Jews who managed to survive the Holocaust and return home) were killed and dozens of others injured. Around that time, my grandfather had just returned to Poland from Russia, where he had been since 1940. In August, he left Poland forever, taking my bubbe and father across the Czech and Austrian borders illegally so they could live in the relative safety of Austrian DP camps.

In the last few years, many people have accused people they disagree with of acting like Nazis. Recently, Glenn Beck claimed that Holocaust survivor George Soros was a Nazi. In the last decade, people who disagreed with George Bush’s (admittedly bad) policies compared him to Hitler. Now of course, people are claiming that Obama is another Hitler.

When we allow this speech, we denigrate history. We say that run-of-the-mill disagreements and policies that we think are bad are tantamount to genocide. Worse, in cases like Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck, we allow demagogues to misappropriate history, using it against the people who were hurt by it, painting the victims as perpetrators and the perpetrators of violence as victims. This is sick. No, it is beyond sick. It has to end, but I don’t think it will. And that’s why I’m crying. Because I don’t know what to do.

New Year, Old Obsession

January 1st, 2011 by Suzanne | 1 Comment | Filed in Damn, family, Jewishness, writing

I had a lighthearted, low-key New Year’s Eve. Husband, my friend Steph, and I took a walking tour over Brooklyn Bridge and watched the fireworks from Fulton Landing. (When Husband bought the tickets, the tour organizer asked me how old I was. “Thirty-five,” I said, and he did a double take. “Oh, that’s the full adult rate then,” he replied. This amused me.) On the subway ride home, we giggled over the stupid outfits that women wore (open toed shoes when the streets are full of yellow slush; raincoats with no apparent other garments under them). I decided that I should take a little break from writing about my grandfather, as I haven’t produced anything very good lately, and focusing on other topics might help. Before I went to bed, Steph and I drank tea and ate goodies and gossiped about celebrities. (It turns out that Natalie Portman is pregnancy and Scarlett Johanson and Ryan Reynolds filed for divorce and he might be seeing Sandra Bollock.) I fell asleep content at 2:30.

Then I dreamed I was writing about the Warsaw Jewish Cemetery. I filled pages and pages of a notebook with descriptions of visiting my great aunts’ graves at night. I knelt down in the snow and felt it cold through my jeans in the moonlight. At the same time I wrote, I reminded myself that a) my great aunts do not have graves; b) I went to Warsaw in June and the weather was sunny and warm; and c) I absolutely was not in the cemetery at night. But I couldn’t stop myself from writing that story. It wanted to be written.

My eyes flew open at 8:00. I couldn’t shake the images of my handwriting or the feeling of the snow on my shins. For a few years now, I’ve felt that celebrating the new year is silly. It’s not like anything really changes from Dec. 31 to Jan. 1 any more than it does from July 31 to August 1. The work and the obsessions and the desires I had all year continue to carry over into the next days until they are done. I don’t think this is bad, though. It just wants to be acknowledged.

No Wonder Why I Had Few Friends…

November 20th, 2010 by Suzanne | 1 Comment | Filed in hilarity, Jewishness, nerds, random, those were the days

In my 6th grade Hebrew school class, the teacher decided that we would re-create shtetl life. Each student was told to devise a shtetl identity and occupation. Most kids picked names like Rifka or Shlomo, and they were mothers or merchants. I decided that I would Janine, a French Jew forced to relocate to the undefined* Eastern European country in which our shtetl was located. In addition, I assigned myself the job of cemetery administrator and, if I remember correctly, also a part-time journalist. Right.

*Since borders were constantly changing in the area in the past two or three hundred years, not defining what country the shtetl was in was probably the most authentic thing about this little lesson because who knew?

Tags:

Complicity

November 14th, 2010 by Suzanne | 3 Comments | Filed in evil, Jewishness, mortification, other rants

My grandfather, whose family was murdered in the Holocaust, told me many times that he would never forgive Poland for what happened.

“But Grandpa,” I said at one point. “It was the Germans who were in charges of the Holocaust. Why are you so angry at the Poles.”

He was so angry as he answered that spittle continually flew from his lips. “The POles could not wait to get rid of the Jews,” he told me. He did not yell. He said it patiently, explaining to a naive young American girl what it was like to be surrounded by people who hated you. “The Germans would not know who was Jewish and who was not if the Poles did not turn them over. They used every opportunity to get rid of the Jews. They to this day deny what they did, how they helped. At least the Germans are honest about what they did to us.”

Of course, I now understand how simple part of this answer is. While certainly anti-Semitism raged in Poland before the war, there were many, many people like Zofia Kossak-Szczucka who overlooked their hatred of their Jewish neighbors because they hated the Germans more. There were countless others who helped because they were good people, like the organizers of Żegota, which was officially (albeit inadequately) supported by the Polish government in exile. People who might have helped did not do so because Poland was the only occupied nation in which anyone caught harboring or assisting Jews would immediately be killed, as would their families. It is hard for me to fault people for not endangering their families.

Yet my grandfather was also correct. Poland still, for the most part, refused to see how victims (and the average Poles were indeed horribly victimized the the Nazis) can also be victimizers. For every Pole who did the right thing, far more turned in Jews for nothing more than a bottle of vodka or as much as the Jews’ belongings. Citizens went out of their ways to harass Jews, even without Nazis around. The Polish underground resistance, Armia Krajowa, declared that those who turned in Jews would be branded collaborators and shot. (At least that was the official line, as many of the leaders of Armia Krajowa were anti-Semites who wanted the Jews out of Poland. The whole thing is morally complicated and tangled with contradictions.) I understand why my grandfather could not look beyond his own experiences.

What I’ve been forced to confront, though, is how equally complicit the US government is/was in ensuring that millions of Jews were allowed to be murdered. PBS has an amazing website that examines Americ and the Holocaust. America does not look good. The State Department was run by a raging lunatic, Breckenridge Long, who intentionally denied visas to desperate Jews seeking a way out. Because of him, over 90% of the immigrations quotas went unfilled in the late 1930s and early 1940s.

Worse, the State Department interfered with reports from Europe detailing how bad the situation was, and intentionally derailed the Bermuda Conference, called by Britain, a nation with some sort of moral conscience and serious concern over the situation. Long is as guilt of mass murder as anyone in Poland. Roosevelt choose to do nothing until almost all of Poland’s Jews were already gassed and cremated. Only increased pressure by Congress – and the Treasury Department’s discovery of the extent of evil actions undertaken the the State Department – caused him to create the (grossly underfunded) War Refugee Board. It saved approximately 200,000 people in a year. Imagine what could have happened if action were taken sooner.

I understand the very complicated nature of the time period. There was a Depression. Popular anti-Semites railed and rallied people across the country, scapegoating Jews for the nation’s problems. But after the war, there was no excuse. However, the US chose to do the wrong thing again.

When I visited Berlin in 1997, I went to the Wannsee Villa Museum. The Wannsee Villa is where the Nazis sat around a table and planned the methodical extermination of Europe’s Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and other “undesirables.” The Museum’s most chilling exhibit, though, detailed what happened to these men after the war: nothing. The Americans deemed these mass murderers who destroyed thousands of communities crucial to rebuilding Germany. They obtained prominent positions in government and industry, living luxurious lives.

Today, the New York Times reported that it went further than that. A significantly censored report found that “American intelligence officials created a ‘safe haven’ in the United States for Nazis and their collaborators after World War II, and it details decades of clashes, often hidden, with other nations over war criminals here and abroad.” In a way, I am not surprised. The US – far from being a beacon of freedom and hope in many nations in which is props up brutal dictators – has a long history of vile, morally repulsive actions. What this changes, for me, is that I can’t criticize the Polish government for whitewashing its past. I live in a country filled with its own self-righteous hypocritical liars.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Treblinka, Revisited in My Mind and in Photos

November 13th, 2010 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in Jewishness, sadness

It’s been five months since my trip to Warsaw. I think about it almost every day. (It’s hard not to while I am doing research for my book.) I decided that I will go back in 2012 when the Museum of the History of Polish Jews opens. Maybe this time Husband will come with me, but if not, I will again go with a friend who can tolerate such a sad trip.

For now, I’m sitting at my computer on an unusually warm and sunny November afternoon, remembering. The weather today is not unlike what is was the day that I visited the Treblinka Extermination Camp. This is a photo I took there:

Memorial at Treblinka Extermination Camp

Memorial at Treblinka Extermination Camp


By the time the Germans decided to liquidate the Warsaw Ghetto, Jewish members of the underground resistance had confirmed that those deported were not being resettled in the east, but killed at the Treblinka death camp. Many (if not most) members of the community refused to believe it. It was too much, I think, to consider, because really what did it mean? As Tevye says many times in the Sholem Alecheim stories, “…a Jew in particular has to accept everything on faith and say, ‘That too is for the best. God probably wants it that way.’” (He also notes, “…a Jew, so long as he has a breath of life in him, cannot give up hope.”)

Not everyone was like this, however. Some – mainly young adults in Zionist groups – accepted the truth, tried to help others confront the facts, and prepared to resist. Before the poet Władysław Szlengel was killed in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, he wrote the poem, “A Small Station Called Treblinka:”

On the line between Tluszcz and Warsaw
From the railway station Warsaw – East
You get out of the station
and travel straight…

The journey lasts
sometimes 5 hours and 45 minutes more
and sometimes the same journey lasts
a whole life until your death …

And the station is very small
three fir trees grow there
and a regular signboard saying
here is the small station of Treblinka…
here is the small station of Treblinka…

And not even a cashier
gone is the cargo man
and for a million zloty
you will not get a return ticket

And nobody waits for you in the station
and nobody waves a handkerchief towards you
only silence hung there in the air
to welcome you in the blind wilderness.

And silent are the three fir trees
and silent is the black board
because here is the small station of Treblinka…
here is the small station of Treblinka…

And only a commercial board
stands still:
“Cook only by gas”

Tags: ,

Visiting the Vatican, May 2006

November 11th, 2010 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in bad puns, fun trips, hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, Jewishness, random, those were the days

The Vatican Museum drove me up the wall. First, it was outrageously expensive – 12 euros!!! This was by far the most expensive museum Dr. P. Dr. H, and I went to in Italy. Second, there were about 954 tour groups there. It was very hard to get around, as large groups would plant themselves in the middle of a room or hall while listening to their guides, and refuse to allow anyone to pass. I was very on edge as it was since I felt like I had entered into the Heart of Darkness. This is not to say that good times were not had. I seriously respect this statue’s pubes and sac: Not even the two-headed Mary Magdalene on the unfinished Michelangelo statue that I saw at the Museo dell’Opera del Santa Maria Fiore in Florence can beat a dickless, handless statue for laughs. (Did they fall off from overuse? This statue could so be used as a warning by some of those groups that think masturbating is a sin.) And the Venus de Milo thought that she had problems…

From the Vatican Museum, we went to St. Peter’s Basilica. The Basilica is built right over the supposed burial spot of St. Peter. Which would make one think that the Vatican might be sensitive to the needs of the persecuted, but this discriminatory sign shows otherwise: No people missing one leg or part of an arm are allowed in! So much for the meek shall inherit the earth and all that.

Inside the Basilica, there are many relics. Here we have John XXII, St. Pius, and St. Josaphat:

St. John XXII is probably one of the worst wax-job corpses ever. He just looked like shit. Granted, having a bad wax head is probable better than a rotted head or no head at all, but still. I did not capture his face, but he also had a ginormous nose. Seeing as us Jews are always being tormented for our schnozes, you’d think that people who venerate a saint with a nose big enough to fit a truck in a nostril might be a bit more sensitive; that’s all I am saying.

St. Pius X’s bod also did not fare well in death. He now has a metal head and hands.

St. Josaphat also is a metal head (ha ha ha, oh I crack myself up…). I so dig the crown. Once my sister had a birthday party at Showbiz Pizza (now turned into Chuck E. Cheese) – which beefed me off to no end because I had previously asked my parents if I could have a party there and they said it was too expensive, but whatever – and they gave her a crown that looked very similar to this.

Man, that was a good trip.

Tags: , , ,