Both of my grandfathers are Jewish and they escaped Europe before World War II. One left Poland with his parents, siblings, and his uncle’s family. The rest of the family stayed because they were in the sweater business and didn’t know what they would do in a warm destination in the Caribbean? For some of them, wiped out in the 2nd German invasion of Poland, the answer would have been ‘lived’.
My other grandfather was in the Ukrainian show cavalry, much like the Canadian Royal Mounted Police Musical Riders, but he was too short and would stand on his stirrups during inspections. One day a guest inspector had them dismount and he did not pass the inspection, so he was going to be sent to the regular army. He bribed a doctor to say he had a medical condition and escaped to Italy, then in an adventure that I’ll share another time, he found his way to British Guyana, where my father was born, then to Barbados where my parents met.
We moved to Toronto when I was 9. As a young teenager, I still knew very little of the war, but my grandparents knew people less lucky than they were, who did not escape Europe. I remember that we were at a party once and many of my grandparents friends were there, including some that still had their tattoos from concentration camps. We were in an apartment party room, with about 50 to 60 people and as was usually the case we had more food than we could possibly eat. When my family cooked for a gathering, at the end of the night it was rare for us to not be dividing up as much food left behind as was eaten! We had an abundance of food that night and so it was shocking for me to hear the following story the next day.
The party was in full swing and it was time for everyone to forgo the snack table and start eating dinner. My aunt was behind one of my grandparent’s friends, who was a holocaust survivor from one of the concentration camps. In front of him was another person in line. The person in front of him added some chicken wings from a platter of wings that was still almost full, and as this person looked for more food he held his plate slightly behind him. My aunt watched the holocaust survivor take some wings off of the person in front’s plate and place them onto his plate in one quick motion. It happened so quickly she had to think about what she actually saw. Then she also saw the almost full platter of wings still on the table, available for all to have.
It was still upsetting for my aunt, even as she retold this story the next day. I still remember the story over 35 years later. What did this holocaust survivor endure that, even in a time of overabundance, he had this urge to steal food from another’s plate? What was he re-living? What other ways did his past haunt him?
When I watch videos of veterans today, and hear stories of those who fought in wars, many say they wake up every day thinking of the friends they lost. When I went to the War Museum in Dieppe, France, I heard video accounts of a massacre, that bore valuable lessons for the Western Allies before their D-Day attack. And when I visited the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem, Israel, I truly began to understand the horror of man’s inhumanity against man. I wrote a post that reflected on this visit titled ‘Two Wolves‘ that I still re-read and share every Remembrance Day. From that post, I will leave you this quote, followed by the poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ by Canadian World War I doctor, John McCrae:
“There are parts of History we should not forget. After all, World War One was the ‘war to end all wars’… And so I am writing this on Remembrance Day for a reason. Whether it be concentration camps and the Holocaust or Hiroshima and Nagasaki or genocide in Russia, Rwanda, or East Timor… or any tragic historical event worth remembering… we choose to remember so that we do not repeat our mistakes. We must want and hope that things can be better. We must see lessons learned, not resentment and mistrust. The past will repeat itself if we do not see ‘joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith’… faith that tomorrow can be better than today.”
Take time to remember those that served, those that suffered, and those that were lost, so that we can have the freedom and liberties we have today.
—–
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
~ John McCrae, May 3rd, 1915
Thank you to Roy Henry Vickers for sharing his Poppy design, used as the feature image for this post.
