When I was very young, I learned that if I sat quietly, I could listen undisturbed to my mother and aunts telling stories from their childhoods. As I heard names I recognized and places I had seen, I sat fascinated at the revelations. People I knew as sweet old ladies...

Growing up in Czechoslovakia (now Slovakia), I was always mesmerized by a black and white portrait in my maternal grandparents’ bedroom. It showed a gorgeous young woman with her head tilted slightly toward her shoulder, her subtle smile brightening her face. This was...

One of the things I find most rewarding as an educator is when a student finally “gets it” – that moment when the eyes light up with understanding, the face animates, and the person becomes truly engaged in the lesson. This holds true whether I am teaching language...

On a trip to visit my father and stepmother in 1976, I brought a cassette recorder and half a dozen blank cassettes with the intention of interviewing Dad. The first evening after dinner I brought it down to where Dad was sitting, reading the Yiddish edition of...

I remember reading The Diary of Anne Frank as a tween and being drawn to her positivity and hopefulness despite the constant fear of discovery. Later, in college, I read Dr. Victor Frankl’s memoir Man’s Search for Meaning for a psychology class. That book, with its...

At the beginning of 2025, we saw a drastic switch in policy and national attitude. As expected with the inauguration of a new president, we were attempting to adjust. As the changes became more intense, I found myself participating where I could. I attended a protest...

My father was born in Essen, Germany in 1926. He moved to Czechoslovakia in 1933 with his parents and sister to escape Nazi rule.  Unfortunately, the "escape" only lasted until 1939 when Germans invaded Czechoslovakia. Luckily, my grandfather was on a business trip to...

Hospitals are not usually known for being ideal performance venues. Yet, there I was, waiting to be taken to surgery, telling one of my Holocaust stories. The oddest part, though, was the reaction I received; it was perhaps the best one I have ever gotten. As I lay...

“There are two things they can never take from you — your intelligence, and your memories.”  Aside from this admonition, I received precious little of my father’s story during his short lifetime. He never spoke outright of his experience as a child in Europe during...

Why do I tell Holocaust stories? For a long time, I could not say. I could talk about how these stories resonated with me, but I could not explain why. I could talk about the need to preserve this history and to learn from it, but not why I felt the need to tell these...