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The Road to Righteousness: The
Road That Must Be Taken
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The world is becoming, as Robert Frost so aptly stated, like “two roads diverged in a yellow wood.” The path to righteousness seems to be the “one less traveled by” and the amoral individual has become more prevalent than the virtuous one. The lessons of the Holocaust have never been more important than they are today in our global society, which can eventually lead to mutual understanding and communication for people of all races and beliefs, or take us down the road where we are in constant conflict over our dissimilarities. After all, was the Holocaust not the ultimate lesson for toleration of diversity? Both of my Polish, Jewish grandparents survived the Holocaust. My grandmother was born in Krasnobrod, Poland. Her earliest memory was at age four, when she saw the “tall boots” march into her village. This was the German Army that invaded Poland in September 1939. Her mother, a peasant woman with amazing instincts, fled the village to the woods with her family. Unfortunately my grandma, tiny legs frozen in fear, could not continue. A German officer was about to shoot her when a cousin scooped her up and made his way to the woods to hide with the others. Red Army soldiers eventually entered the town and enlisted her father and brothers, and they all withdrew to Siberia for the remainder of the war (Interview). At the age of thirteen, when Jewish boys traditionally celebrate their Bar Mitzvahs, my grandfather a poor boy from Lodz, was regaled instead with the great “Blitzkrieg” of Hitler’s army. He and his family were thrust onto Lagiewnicka Street in the crowded ghetto, where twenty people shared a room, lice were picked daily from their hair and clothing, and food rations were meager or nonexistent. During a 1942 Nazi roundup to the Chelmno death camps, my grandfather watched from his rooftop the brutal evacuation of the hospital next door. Newborn babies, children, the sick and elderly were flung from the windows onto the carts below. My grandpa, silently sickened, posed in hiding. (Interview) Close to 16,000 ghetto inhabitants were sent to their deaths that year, a portent of things to come (The Lodz Ghetto). On August 6, 1944 during the final liquidation of the Lodz Ghetto, my grandpa’s family and approximately 70,000 residents were transferred to the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp. Packed tightly in a cattle car without food, water or air to cleanse the stench, my grandpa arrived to the sound of barking shepherds and the smell of Crematorium II. He was immediately separated from the women (Yad Vashem.org). He, his father, and his
best friend were paraded in front of a smiling SS officer who was using
a riding crop to select which line they should join. My relatively
healthy grandfather was sent to the left while his party was sent to the
right. Scared and lonely, he tried to sneak over to the right when the
smiling officer, Dr. Josef Mengele, vehemently screamed to get back to
the left. As he watched his family and friends go up in the smoke of
cremation, he wondered why this “Angel of Death” had chosen to save his
life that day (Interview). Several hundred thousand Jewish men, women
and children were murdered at Crematorium II with poison gas, and their
bodies burned in its furnaces, my great-grandparents among them. My
grandfather was among the 5-7,000 to survive Auschwitz from the
liquidation of the Lodz Ghetto (Lodz ShtetLinks). At a time when the US economy is waning and self-absorption is on the rise, it is vital to retell the tales of the Holocaust. During times of financial stress it is common to blame the government or a minority group who seem to be thriving while others are not. The scapegoats used by Hitler may be used again. It is not without possibility since White Supremacy still exists throughout the world (ADL-White Supremacy). My home corners Schindler
Drive. When I was younger I wondered who Schindler was. Of course since
then Steven Spielberg has introduced this Righteous Gentile savior of
1200 Holocaust Jews to the world (Schindler’s List). Two Schindlerjuden
he had saved built my house. The irony is that it is in the middle of an
area where there is little tolerance of any minority. One November all
the mailboxes in our multi-ethnic development were smashed on the
anniversary of Kristallnacht, the night of Nazi atrocities against the
German-Jewish population that was a prelude to the Holocaust (“Kristallnacht”).
The prejudice remains in our area as an undertone that I have witnessed
in school, hearing racial slurs and being frozen out by many of my
so-called “friends.” My dearest friends have listened to me speak of the Holocaust and I have learned about the trials their families suffered, which caused them to leave their homelands. They are comforted by my tale for it tells them that they are not alone in their anguish. This I believe is the greatest lesson that the Holocaust can teach; we have all been tormented. My grandma is still that four-year-old child who was left behind and still lives in morbid fear of everyone’s safety; my grandpa still questions why he and not his parents survived. My friends live in the conflict of their homelands, be it Pakistan, India, China or elsewhere. It is easier for the human race to take the road that has always been taken, that is, one of man’s inhumanity to man. It is time that we as a civilization try the other road—the one that leads to mutual righteousness. We have the tools, we always have. They are our understanding words and hearts and the lessons taught by atrocities such as the Holocaust.
Works Cited
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