History and Memory, Poland: yesterday and today

Poland: it’s complicated

I am the first in my immediate family to go back to Poland since my Zeidy (grandfather) left in 1920. My mother had some desire to see Zambrow, but she and my father focused their travels on places they really wanted to see and experience, such as Italy, Spain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada. The idea …

Explorations: family history, History and Memory

Treblinka or Auschwitz?

One of the biggest mysteries surrounding my Zambrow family’s fate is where they died. Actually, it only became a mystery to me when I started researching the Zambrow Yizkor book, whose translation into English I oversaw. The book states that the Jews of Zambrow met their end on January 16, 1943, in Auschwitz. This contradicts …

Connections: Past and Present, History and Memory

A Yahrzeit observed

Last sunday, the 12th day of the Hebrew month of Shvat, I observed the yahrzeit of my Zambrow family. This was that date that, in 1943, 72 years ago, my great grandmother Sheindl, my Zeidy’s mother, and three of his sisters and their families, were murdered by the Nazis. At least I believe this was …

Connections: Past and Present

Board meeting

Last Sunday, the board of the Zambrow Landsmanschaft met at a deli in Manhattan. We came together to discuss the various projects in which the organization is involved. Our connection with each other is through our ancestors, parents and grandparents, who lived in Zambrow. We represent different religious outlooks and live in various places in …

Connections: Past and Present

Myself as a latter day landsman

The connection to my ancestral roots took an unexpected turn about six or seven years ago. I picked up the copy of the Jewish Week, a weekly Jewish newspaper published in New York where I live. Usually this paper has marginal interest to me, and I get through it in about five to ten minutes. …

Connections: Past and Present, History and Memory, Uncategorized

Zambrow: real and imagined

There was, as long as I can remember, a special book on my parent’s bookcase. I knew it was special because of the reverence in which my parents held it. I rarely pulled it off the bookcase and looked at it, nor do I remember my parents ever reading it. All I knew was that …