Last week, I experienced a profound loss with the passing of my beloved Opa, the last direct Holocaust-surviving relative in our family. His life, resilience, and the stories he shared have left an indelible mark on me, and I feel compelled to honor his memory in a way that reflects both his struggle and his spirit.
Opa was born in a time of unimaginable turmoil. He survived the Holocaust by leaving Berlin just five weeks before Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass, when thousands of Jewish businesses, synagogues, and homes were attacked. His journey through those dark times was marked by courage, determination, and an unwavering will to live. Despite the trauma and loss, Opa managed to rebuild his life, embodying the resilience and strength that we, as a family, have always admired.
Historical Reccount of Opa's Escape:
1935 (Age 2): The Nuremberg Laws were enacted in Germany, prohibiting Jewish doctors and dentists from treating German gentiles. This legislation significantly impacted Opa's father, Leo, who saw his dental practice begin to decline as a result of rising state-sponsored anti-Semitism.
1938 (Age 5): The situation in Germany became increasingly dangerous for Jewish families. A red Jewish star was drawn on the shingle outside their apartment, marking them as targets. Recognizing the imminent threat, Leo decided to leave Berlin with his family. This decision was made just five weeks before Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass, on November 9-10, 1938, when Jewish properties were violently attacked across Nazi Germany.
Escape from Berlin: The family's escape was carefully planned. In August 1938, Leo received his visa and green card, which allowed them to immigrate to the United States. They purchased tickets for an ocean liner departing from Le Havre, France, on October 1, 1938. The plan involved traveling by train from Berlin to Amsterdam, spending a few days with Peter's maternal grandfather, and then continuing to Paris before boarding the ship to America.
September 1938: The family faced a critical moment at the Germany-Holland border. Late at night, the train they were on was stopped, and all passengers were ordered off. The border was about to close at midnight, which could have delayed their journey indefinitely. Leo, recognizing the urgency, created a ruckus by insisting they were Russian nationals, not Germans, leveraging the Russian-German non-aggression pact. His forceful protest resulted in the family being allowed to cross the border on a milk train, ensuring their escape.
October 1938: The family successfully reached Paris and then Le Havre, where they boarded the ship to America. The journey was challenging, with Peter experiencing seasickness, but they finally arrived in New York. Peter vividly recalls the sight of the Statue of Liberty, which brought tears to his eyes.
Post-War Period: The family settled in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and integrated into the community of German Jewish immigrants. Peter went on to receive his B.A. and a degree in dentistry from N.Y.U., practicing for about 40 years. He met his future wife, Marsha, at a Purim ball sponsored by a German Jewish immigrant organization.
Opa’s story is a testament to the resilience and determination of his family. Their escape from Nazi Germany, driven by foresight and courage, allowed them to survive and build a new life in America. This legacy is honored through initiatives like Dance for the Dead, ensuring that the memories and lessons of the past continue to inspire future generations.
Opa spoke of the challenges he faced and the strength he found to move forward. His tales were not just about survival; they were about the importance of remembering, of honoring those who were lost, and of living proud Jewish lives.
In Judaism, one of the greatest mitzvahs, or good deeds, is Kavod Ha-Met כבוד המט, the honoring of the dead. Dance for the Dead as an organization is my attempt to fulfill a lifetime of remembrance, honor, respect, and celebration for the giants upon whose shoulders we stand. These are the individuals who built the foundations that allow us to live and express our Jewish identity today.
As a dancer, I have always felt a unique connection to my heritage and the expression of my art. However, within traditional Jewish contexts, I sometimes struggled to find a place for my form of expression. Dance for the Dead is my way of creating a space where I, and others like me, can honor our heritage through both solemn remembrance and joyous celebration.
This initiative is inspired by Opa's life and legacy. By day, we will visit Holocaust museums in Berlin and Warsaw, immersing ourselves in the history and memories of those who perished. By night, we will celebrate life through dance, embodying the joy and resilience that Opa carried with him throughout his life. This blend of reflection and celebration is a testament to the duality of our experiences as descendants of Holocaust survivors – we honor the past while embracing the present.
Opa’s story is a beacon of hope and a reminder of the importance of preserving our history. Dance for the Dead is not just an initiative; it is a movement to ensure that the memories of those who suffered are never forgotten and that their legacies inspire us to live fully and joyfully.
In honoring Opa, I invite others to join me in this journey of remembrance and celebration. Let us dance for those who cannot, and let us live in a way that honors their memories every day.
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