Giving Thanks

This past holiday weekend involved proclamations of thanks and the creation of family memories. I am lucky enough to come from two very different families with unique histories and cultures. Sitting around the Thanksgiving dinner table, surrounded by paternal and maternal bloodlines, I was reminded of the ancestral influences that sparked my interest in studying the Holocaust and, eventually, creating my own co-op.

My mom, born on an Air Force base in Germany, grew up in a rather conservative Catholic family with five older siblings and a Colonel patriarch. My grandfather fought in World War II on the American side, despite having German roots. 

My dad, born in New Jersey, grew up in a Jewish household with one younger sister. My grandmother divorced my biological grandfather, won enough money on Jeopardy (yes, the game show) to move my father and aunt, and begin raising them as a single mother. Yeah, my grandmother was pretty cool. Her parents, my great-grandparents, immigrated to the United States prior to World War I, sensing that Poland would no longer be a safe place for Jewish people. Despite foreseeing the dangers of being a Jew in small-town Poland, my great-grandparents were the only ones from their family able to escape. The rest of my great-uncles and great-aunts presumably suffered the same fate as millions of other Polish Jews during the time.

My step-grandfather (on my father's side), whom I knew only as my grandfather despite having no biological relationship to me, also belonged to the armed forces and fought in the American army during World War II. As previously mentioned, this position deployed him to France, where he helped to liberate a concentration camp and re-connect a French Jew with his father.

My Polish-German, Catholic-Jewish ancestry had a variety of experiences during World War II and the Holocaust. That multi-dimensional background is what initially sparked my interest in the Holocaust. I interviewed my paternal grandmother for an 8th grade project about the subject. Her experiences as a woman on the home front, made me interested to learn more about my other grandparents' experiences during this time period. The topic continued to follow me as I began my studies in Sociology and chose to participate in a Dialogue of Civilization that followed the Hitler's rise to power. 

As one of the youngest workers by far at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum and the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, I fear that the endangerment of older generations will diminish interest in Holocaust and Genocide studies. Crime and violence gathers much more interest when a party is personally affected, hence why the majority of the employees at the Auschwitz Museum and USHMM are from one of the Nazi-targeted groups. I have my own ancestral biases that brought me to the topic, so I am unsure if I would have participated in the study abroad and subsequent co-op had I not had these influences. Older generations have a large influence on developing genocide prevention interest among the younger generations. The passing of elders, therefore, contributes to a diminishing interest in the topic. 

My Thanksgiving weekend involved the convergence of two sets of families, each with a distinctive 20th century history. I cannot help but be thankful for these family members. For the purposes of this blog, however, I want to highlight the particular gratefulness I hold towards my family's holocaustic histories. It also reminds me that others do not have similar histories and were not able to learn about World War II and the Holocaust from a primary source. It reminds me that there is diminishing interest in atrocity prevention and genocidal studies as the gap between the present and the past grows wider. In a contemporary world in which hate monopolizes communications between individuals, institutions and societies, my Thanksgiving dinner provided humbled delicacies with a slightly bittersweet aftertaste.

Wake-up Call

Whether you woke up Wednesday with excitement, fear, anger or hope, it is safe to say that all Americans have had an emotional couple of days. Wednesday also marks the end of a long, long election season that made blue voters bluer and red voters redder. Now, it doesn’t matter if your blue, red, somewhere in between or really confused, because America has voted and we continue on as a nation.

            Articles and op-eds flooded the media over the course of the past year and a half, almost breaking the internet on Wednesday morning. Passion floored American citizens to express all the emotions everyone experienced over the election season. We cried, we laughed, we cringed, we smiled – and now we are tired. From 8pm Tuesday night to 8am Wednesday morning, we rode a roller coaster and I, personally, am not getting back in line anytime soon.

            What seems to be forgotten, however, is that all these feelings were not just felt by Americans. The world watched as we held their fate in our hands; it is hard to remember how powerful of a player America is on the global stage. When I was in Poland, co-workers and strangers, upon learning of my citizenship, immediately inquired about my thoughts on Trump. Regardless of whether they know of Clinton, Kaine, Pence, Sanders, Rubio, Cruz or any of the other actors in this year’s election showcase, everyone knew of Trump. Less than 40,000 people populate Oświęcim, a town surrounded by rural land, and I am confident that the majority were aware of this controversial American election.

            I was fortunate enough to make some incredible international friends during my global co-op, two of whom followed the election results with us on Tuesday night. As I communicated with family and friends as state votes came in, I was also messaging friends in Germany and Austria. I voted for those I felt would represent my interests and do the most for my country. I thought of the future of myself, my loved ones and my nation – these three entities were with me behind the poll curtain. In the moment, however, the entire world was also present in the booth. The voting decisions we made on Tuesday affected the local, national and international political arenas. Talk about holding the weight of the world on your shoulders…

            Wednesday morning in D.C. normalized me. The same people boarded my marc train, workers rushed to the metro or into buildings with coffee cups and official briefcases in hand. The world woke up on Wednesday and went to work – just like every other day.

            I arrived early to the Museum to assist in the de-installation of an exhibition: I loaded and moved carts of shoes to be cleaned by the conservation department. This is not my first time working with the shoes of those who were gassed. In Auschwitz, on one of my first days, I sat down in a lab coat, meticulously vacuuming and cleaning crates and crates of victims’ shoes. To say the task was emotionally taxing is an understatement. This next encounter with the shoes, proved emotional in a different facet. As I pushed these carts down the modernized hallways of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, I confronted the reminder of what hate will do to a population. Every shoe represents a victim of the Holocaust and a victim of hate. Some, during the election season, drew parallels to the events and figures of World War II. I own opinions on this topic, but at the end of the day, this is not 1933. Similarities or not, the world is 71 years older than the Holocaust and, hopefully, 71 years wiser.

            Hate polarizes us, fractures systems, ends lives, eliminates societies. And hate caused the Holocaust. This election saw a lot of hate, from both sides. Voters held strong opinions about both candidates, and the “side” of one’s choosing potentially ended relationships. Hillary supporters refused to play in the sandbox with Trump voters, and vice versa. Sand was thrown, fights emerged, and hate erupted out of our mouths like lava. Hate divided us throughout this year, and if we further this polarization, hate will run this nation, and history taught us that hate isn’t a qualified leader.

            It no longer matters what you did in the booth on Tuesday. It no longer matters who you campaigned for throughout the primary and general elections. The next four years matter – and we mustn’t let hate determine its course. We owe future Americans and world citizens the opportunity to live peacefully with one another. Whether you like the new administration or not, we must work with one another to build our country up after such a long election.

            Hate cannot run a society. So grab your neighbor’s hand, and lets start the next four years.

Living at Home

I returned to the United States about five weeks ago. The stark contrast between my Polish and Maryland lives has created a divide between these two lives - one that feels greater than 5 weeks. This is not to say that living at home for the past five weeks has caused time to drag. In fact, my schedule in Maryland remains slightly busier than my life in Oświęcim. Granted, small Polish towns tend to have less to offer than suburban mid-Atlantic areas, but the point is, living at home for co-op is not a bad thing at all.

Co-oping outside of Boston can bring new financial and social challenges, unless the new place is one's home. Access to familiar settings, old friends and the parents' fridge makes living at home not too shabby. Of course, in comparison to one's high school lifestyle, it is safe to say that college tends to be more, well, exciting. A break from the excitement can be rejuvenating physically and financially. 

Many students have concerns about co-oping anywhere outside of Boston because of the disconnect potentially created as Boston moves on to the next adventure. Ignoring teasing from friends, no one is going to "forget about you" if a co-op outside of MA becomes a better decision for one's college career. I had hesitations about leaving my friends and my comfort zone for six months and traveling to Poland and D.C. International co-ops pose their own sets of challenges, but when co-oping within the United States, it is considerably easier to return to Husky Nation - which is what I did this past weekend. 

I experienced unexpected nerves the days leading up to my Boston return. With five months apart from my New England love, those nerves were understandable but not justified. Of course my friends continued with their own Northeastern paths and there were many updating sessions to be had over a mere 72 hours, but none of my friends had forgotten me, as my fears had told me they would. I remembered the last time I walked through Northeastern's campus, I was planning the logistics of my upcoming journey to Poland and work at Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Museum. Now, I return with three months of experiences that have completely transformed my personal and academic paths. What I wouldn't give to talk to myself in May, although I am unsure where I would begin. 

My mom, being an amazing kindergarten teacher, frequently reminds me of the importance of returning to the start to remember the journey. As cheesy as it sounds, returning to Boston did remind me of all I have been able to accomplish over these short 5 months. My co-op experience is a unique opportunity in so many ways, and I appreciated this reminder. So, living at home has its annoyances, as expected, but it also gives me the opportunity to further reflect on my experiences and allot all of my time towards my work at USHMM. And look at this amazing dog I get to see everyday:

Now that is a motivation to live at home.