Aaron
Aaron is my grandson, born in 1998 (?). He has shown his interest in the Holocaust and our heritage since elementary school when he wrote a paper whose introduction he paraphrased recently as:
I am standing here today because my Grandmother survived The Holocaust.
In high school, on a trip to Europe organized by his school, he visited Dachau, one of the first concentration camps built by Nazi Germany and the longest-running one, opening on 22 March 1933 [1].
During a summer holiday, he scanned and organized my boxes of inherited documents and photographs.
While at the University of Waterloo, Ontario, Canada:
he went to Israel as part of the Birthright program [2], whose mission “is to provide all young Jewish adults with opportunities for transformative and immersive shared experiences in Israel and a foundation for ongoing Jewish connection.” During that trip, he had the opportunity for an extensive visit to YadVashem, whose aim is:
To lead the documentation, research, education and commemoration of the Holocaust, and to convey the chronicles of this singular Jewish and human event to every person in Israel, to the Jewish people, and to every significant and relevant audience worldwide.
He took an elective titled: “The Holocaust and Film” [3]
He attended some Reform Judaism services.
In June 2023, he undertook a work trip to Hungary for me. His reactions and reflections have influenced the direction and manner in which I chose to share my work.
The following texts and related audio have been edited from his final trip report.
WHAT DID I LEARN?
I undertook this trip on behalf of my grandmother, our ancestors, and our heritage. I was very fortunate in two ways. First, in the welcome I received from cousin László and his family, who were unbelievably supportive, welcoming, well-informed on history, and amazing people. Second, in the extraordinary circumstances whereby a hostel now occupied the apartment that my grandmother and her family lived in.
What did I learn from this trip?
I am convinced that learning about our history, about the actions of our leaders and the resulting actions of groups, is vital in ensuring genocide never happens again. Yet it does. When we have misinterpretations, and purposeful misrepresentations of history, when there is control of the narrative, leading people on is far easier and far more dangerous.
If we can get people interested in history, in understanding the motives and philosophies behind actions and their repercussions, events like the Holocaust are less likely to happen. But things become scary when those in power do not want some history told or purposely misdirect. We are witnessing on a large scale across the world the rewriting of history and the purposeful cutting of education. This will lead again to terrible things.
Access to education, factual historical education, is a continuous fight. Particularly now, when distortions of history are much easier with social media, where anyone can say, post, or write whatever they want. I don’t know how to combat this. We can have restrictions at the cost of people's freedom, but when is that also an issue? There is always a line to cross, a line to toe, but all of that might be managed with an educated and critical population. How we get there in these times of polarization, lack of attention span, lack of interest in history, I do not know. And it scares me. But again, perhaps work like this can grow and push back against what we are seeing today.
Across the Street from the Astoria Hotel
The hostel, in the last apartment on the third floor, was where my grandmother and our family lived, where my grandmother grew up, both before and after the war. I stepped into the same rooms, touched the same walls she would have run by, looked down at the courtyard, and saw the tenants walk by as she would have. Yet our experiences were quite different. When she lived here, one of the greatest crimes against Humanity was taking place.
I entered the bedroom, looked out the window, and saw the Astoria Hotel across a narrow street, less than twenty feet away. This elegant hotel had once hosted diplomats and other important people from all over the world. On 19 March 1944, it became the residence for SS officers.
Almost 80 years earlier, looking out that same window would have been a terrifying experience, a dehumanizing experience. Across the street my family could see the people responsible for implementing their extinction, not for the religion we follow, not for the life we live, but for the blood we share. Now, these people were right next door. I can't fathom what it would have felt like, but I'm sure, especially with a young daughter, that they just tried to figure out how to survive. I'm not quite sure how to put this in words.
The scapegoat of Europe’s problems for two millennia was again in mortal peril, and in Budapest, my grandmother and my family were in the crosshairs.
I am grateful that fate found a way to have this hostel in this apartment, and available for my stay in Budapest.
Szombathely, Vas County, Hungary
I visited Szombathely, a historical town in western Vas County, where some of my ancestors lived. I consider this town as a microcosm of the Holocaust. The entire Jewish population was deported to Auschwitz.
My visit to Szombathely has been pre-arranged and began with an exhibit curated by Krisztina Kelbert, who received the Raoul Wallenberg Prize for the sensitivity and empathy of her research. It was by far one of the most unique exhibits I have seen of the Holocaust. In previous exhibits, most of the focus was on horror itself. The planning of the logistics, the wealth taken, the horrors of the ghettos, the camps and deportations, the industrial processes used on humans, and the murder on the scale of millions. Then, there was the hunger and starvation that survivors succumbed to after being liberated and the hatred that remained when surviving Jews returned to claim their properties.
Unfortunately, I have become familiar with all of this. What is often lost in the discussions, teachings, and exhibits are the people themselves. The communities. The individuals.
The exhibit Krisztina developed and curated flips the traditional teachings of the Holocaust on their head. It demonstrates the importance of remembering the people. We always say “Never Again” when we talk about the genocide of a people, but I feel that in the stories, in the recounting, the people themselves are often lost.
As I walked through Krisztina’s exhibit, I came face to face with the Jewish families of Szombathely and learned about what they did and their customs and traditions. I could see their daily life and the special events through photos of smiling families. I could see the before: before the history of the deportations and the industrial murder machine. Showing the before is vital; it is so essential, yet it is skimmed over in other exhibits I have seen.
This exhibit accomplishes something very special. It demonstrates the horror of tearing apart families, people, and individuals. It creates a connection where I could see individual faces and read their stories. It accentuates the fact that beyond the horror of 6 million Jews being killed, there were 6 million individuals, each with their own story.
My words are inadequate in explaining my thoughts the way I want to. Yet I want to emphasize that focusing on individual stories and lives is as vital as the tragic numbers we are used to hearing and the terrible conditions we have learned about. This is why we can identify with Anne Frank’s powerful and devastating story: we learn about her life, her thoughts, her wants, and the injustice of it all.
I believe that making the Holocaust personal is a powerful and likely better way to teach about the Holocaust because it goes beyond strict numbers and suffering. We must also show that there is a prelude to the suffering and that there were very real and very happy lives. All ripped away for nothing.
After the exhibit, a visit to the Jewish center brought new revelations. The curator had prepared detailed, handwritten, extensive family trees of the Günsberger family. He had information we did not have before. We could contribute a little as we had answers to questions he asked. It was amazing to see the work he had put into helping us, to help preserve the history of Szombathely and Vas County residents. This caring for history left me feeling wowed, and I am awed and thankful to my hosts for putting so much time and effort into my visit.
I left Szombatheley significantly affected. Again, it was one of the first times I had learned about all these stories, which made the consequences of the Holocaust much more real, and much less academic. This sounds heartless because, obviously, I know the horrors of the Holocaust are not academic, that they are very real. But framing the telling of history in this manner may make it more impactful if people can see what hate can do. It is not just logistics and suffering and numbers; it is stories and individuals. It is families, customs, traditions, and communities. It is your ancestors, your friends' ancestors. And it can happen again.
This town used to have a vibrant Jewish population, but now it is destroyed. We all have a part to play in protecting all communities against such a fate, not just Jewish people but communities of various customs and faiths all across the world.
And we, as a collective species, are still, unfortunately, failing at it.
About Meeting Family
Cousin László took me all over Hungary, and to places such as Nové Mento nad Váhom [was Vágujhely} in Slovakia and Transylvania, where our ancestors’ graves were the only remnants of their lives. He also took time to educate me on Hungarian and European history and shared stories of his career. He was always checking in on me to ensure I had what I needed, gave me information, and ensured I knew how to get from place to place. He translated for me, gave me advice, and, most importantly, gave me perspectives on how to view history. He is a fascinating person.
We have lived very different lives, during different times. His perspective made me think differently about various things, such as the influence of borders and the interpretations of history. He spent much of his time driving me to other parts of Hungary and Slovakia. He spent entire days with me, someone he had just met. He also took me to a castle, which is always cool! I cannot put into words how much I appreciate this, but I hope it comes across. I also appreciate how his son and his daughter took the time to take me to different parts of Budapest and offer their perspectives on life in Budapest and its history.
More than this, they welcomed me into their family as if I was returning home! I was invited to go out to eat with them, meet their children and grandchildren, and go to their house. Their presence on my trip is something I will never forget, and I hope I get to see them all again. It makes me want to return to Budapest and see him and his wonderful family again. I enjoyed getting to know and spending time with this branch of my family, and I am happy to keep in touch with them.
The trip was not only reflecting on the history of our family and the country. I appreciated seeing Budapest, arguably the most beautiful city I have visited. One thing I particularly loved was the Széchenyi thermal baths. I did not love the Harley convention that came into town the last two days and filled the city with motorcycles, but you can’t always get what you want.
I also learned that solo traveling is quite incredible.