THE YEAR OF GOODBYES

Thinking of Madzia ("Manja") Stahl

2012-01-07T14:46:00.000-05:00

As I was completing work on The Year of Goodbyes, the Holocaust Memorial Museum inWashington, D.C. became the U.S. depository of millions of documents from whathad previously been the largest closed Holocaust archive in the world. The archive, called the International TracingService, was established by the Allies at the end of World War II in BadArolsen, Germany. In 2008, the ITS madeits archive available to the U.S. Holocaust Museum; the Museum then allowedsurvivors and their relatives (like me) to file requests for Museum researchersto search the archive for information on specific individuals.

I filed a big batch of requests in January 2009 and started getting responses about twomonths later. For the most part, thenewly opened archive did not produce any revelations about the people in The Year of Goodbyes. There was one significant exception.

That exception related to Manja Stahl, my mother’s firstcousin from Pabiance, Poland. Shecreated this page ("Have a heart! Look into a heart!") for my mother’s poesiealbumwhen my mother last saw her in Pabianice in October 1938. At the time my mother, Jutta, was almost 12 and Manja was 18. My mother just adored her older cousin.

(It’s in Chapter XVI of The Year of Goodbyes.)

Our family had been somewhat uncertain about what hadhappened to Manja. Someone said she diedin the Lodz Ghetto. But two relatives who wereimprisoned in the Auschwitz concentration camp with Manja said she died there. This was what members of my family believed for more than 60years.

The newly released archive documents showed that, althoughshe was imprisoned at Auschwitz, Manja did not perish there. Instead, the documents showed, she was sent fromAuschwitz to Stutthof concentration camp on September 27, 1944. Here is the list of transported prisoners:

The names are blurry, but Manja's is visible about 3/4 of the way down the page, along with herbirthdate (October 26, 1920) and prisoner number.

Here is the personal prisoner card the Nazis created forManja when she was at Stutthof:

(Although for ease of pronunciation I’ve spelled her name as“Manja” in my book, its proper form is “Madzia.”)

And here is a document from the Stutthof camp “doctor”declaring Manja dead on January 7, 1945 from “complete body weakness” in block29 of the camp. The form also mentionsthat her body was cremated for “hygienic” reasons.

And here is a death notice form filled out by Stutthof officialson January 8, 1945. The form says that Manjawas a household laborer at the camp, and repeats that she died the day beforefrom “body weakness.”

The death notice also includes a second page signed by one SS Junior“Storm” leader stating that there were no circumstancesto indicate that Manja's death occurred due to any criminal action againsther. That, to say the least, is somekind of untruth. Here it is:

By the time I obtained all this information in 2009, The Year of Goodbyes was going to press. I was able to change the statement that hadbeen in my original manuscript asserting that Manja died at Auschwitz; the bookcorrectly puts her place of death at Stutthof. But I could not add the other details described here.

It was, and remains, so unsettling for me to thinkabout these details. I already knew that thisyoung woman died at the hands of the Nazis. Why, then, are these new details so agonizing? Because—to think of Manja actually surviving Auschwitz(where her mother died) and then being shipped hundreds of miles north toStutthof. . . . And to think of Manja surviving until January 1945, with theend of the war only four months away. . . .

Devastating.

But Manja’s death from “total body weakness” in the camp mayhave been a blessing of sorts. The Nazis conducted forced evacuations ofStutthof as the war’s end neared, starting around the time of her death. Thousandswere marched into the Baltic Sea, where they were shot. Thousands died from the harsh winter conditionsin which they marched. In January 1945, there were 50,000 prisoners at Stutthof. When Allied forces liberated Stutthofon May 9, 1945—it was the last camp to be liberated—they found a total of 100surviving prisoners.

Manja Stahl died in the Stutthoff concentration camp 67 years ago today. She was 25 years old.

(I am indebted to Gretchen Guy, researcher at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, for unearthing the archive documents and explaining their meaning to me.)

Guy Gotthelf

2011-08-30T13:22:00.001-04:00

I can't let August come to a close without this small memorial to Guy Gotthelf. Guy was my mother's Parisian cousin, who created this page for her poesiealbum when they met in Paris in 1938:

Guy was 15 when he wrote and drew this page; my mother had just turned 12. The time their families spent together in Paris in 1938 is related in Chapters XXIV and XXV of The Year of Goodbyes.

Six years later, in August 1944, my mother was living in Washington, D.C. and preparing for her last year of high school. She'd already completely lost her German accent. Guy was still in Paris. According to the best information I have, his father had been deported to a concentration camp some months earlier, never to be heard from again. Guy, however, evaded deportation and joined the French resistance (FFI).

On August 25, 1944, Guy was killed while on an FFI mission. He was 21 years old.

To commemorate his sacrifice, the Municipal Council of Yerres, the Parisian suburb where Guy and his family made their home, named a street after him:

Finally, here is the only photo I have of Guy as a young man. Thanks to my cousin Beth Gotthelf of Birmingham, Michigan, for sharing it.

And so as I enjoy the lovely waning days of August, I am also thinking of this young man whom I never met, but who has left an indelible impression on me.

'Help Sing A New Song'

2011-06-13T14:26:00.000-04:00

From fifth-grader Hannah San Sebastian of B'nai Shalom of Olney, Maryland, comes this touching poem:

Hannah's teacher at B'nai Shalom used the poesiealbum concept in her class after my mother and I visited the students in May. Hannah is 11 years old--the same age Jutta (my mother) was for most of the time period covered in The Year of Goodbyes. Many thanks to Hannah for her poem and to her teacher, Pam Glikman.

Stop. . . .

2011-06-03T16:59:00.000-04:00

The way this student has combined his message (“Stop The Hate. . .”) with words that evoke both the violence of hate and the peace of tolerance is effective, isn't it? The design and colors are in keeping with the poesiealbum style, which makes the work a most appropriate response to The Year of Goodbyes. This collage was created by Bill Steele, a student at Fairport Harding High School, Fairport Harbor, Ohio. Thank you, Bill.

'Redemption/Freedom'

2011-05-26T19:43:00.000-04:00

Nicole Jennings, a senior at Fairport Harding High School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio, sends this drawing and poem. I like how she incorporates two very different, very familiar symbols in the art—just simple lines on a page, and yet they stand for so much!

Thanks, Nicole, for sending your work in response to The Year of Goodbyes.

'Life Is Like The Ocean'

2011-05-19T11:18:00.007-04:00

Kenny Becks, who is graduating from Fairport Harding High School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio, writes: "I liked the way The Year of Goodbyes was written in poetry rather than simply a 'regular' story. I decided to try and do the same thing by expressing my feelings in a poem. I hope your book educates many people about the Holocaust and that we are all people, just people."

Many thanks to Kenny for his uplifting poem.

Images of the Unimaginable

2011-05-15T19:18:00.001-04:00

From 15-year-old Brittany Graham comes this photo collage in response to The Year of Goodbyes. Brittany attends Fairport Harding High School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio.

Thank you, Brittany, for this moving work.

'The End Could Become The Beginning'

2011-05-09T20:52:00.002-04:00

Fifteen-year-old Jordan Johnson, a ninth grader at Fairport Harding High School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio, wrote this poem in response to The Year of Goodbyes. Thank you, Jordan, for your thoughtful words.

'In Good and Bad Times'

2011-05-03T13:49:00.013-04:00

June Bowers of Fairport Harbor, Ohio created this delightful page after reading The Year of Goodbyes. June is 17 and a student at Fairport Harding High School. Thank you, June!

'The Change We Want To See'

2011-04-28T12:17:00.000-04:00

This page was created for the Poesiealbum Project by Amanda Joki, age 17, of Fairport Harding High School in Fairport Harbor, Ohio. Amanda read The Year of Goodbyes in her school's Holocaust Literature class.

Many thanks, Amanda, for this beautiful work.

A Page for Passover

2011-04-14T18:41:00.002-04:00

It was 73 years ago this month that a girl named Rebekka Hermannsen wrote this page in her friend's poesiealbum.

A translation:

Do not cause your father any worries,
do not cause your mother any pain,
for you do not know if tomorrow
such dear hearts will pass away.

This poem starts off Chapter VIII of The Year of Goodbyes. It's a somber poem for an 11-year-old girl to have written to her friend--my mother, Jutta, who was also 11 at the time. Of course, they were living in somber times--1938, in Nazi Germany. Would Rebekka have chosen a different poem in different circumstances?

Passover, the Jewish holiday celebrating freedom and commemorating the Biblical story of the Exodus, began in 1938 on the evening of April 15. I don't know whether Rebekka wrote her poesie before or after her family's Passover Seder that year (she didn't write the date, only the month). I don't know whether she wrote before or after being reminded at the Seder of the long history of oppression in human history. At our own Seder this year, I'll be thinking of Rebekka and the other children in The Year of Goodbyes who didn't get to make their own exodus to freedom.

2011-02-15T21:20:00.005-05:00

Jutta's poesiealbum page

This is Jutta's page that she wrote in her friend Lotte's poesiealbum on February 16, 1937--exactly 74 years ago. (Jutta is the real-life girl--and my mother--whose own poesiealbum is featured in The Year of Goodbyes.)

Just as the roses bloom,
so may your good fortune always bloom.
And one day when you see roses,
remember me.
    To remember your classmate,
    Jutta Salzberg
    February 16, 1937

(thanks to Lotte Blaustein for translation assistance)

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February 1, 2011

Lisa Streit Kohlman

Lisa Kohlman, whose entry in my mother's poesiealbum leads off The Year of Goodbyes, died this past weekend at her home in Silver Spring, Maryland. Lisa was one of seven classmates from the Jewish School for Girls in Hamburg who reunited in 2000, more than 65 years after they all fled Nazi Germany. (This reunion is described in the book and is also the subject of a recent article in The Washington Post Magazine, which you can read here.)

Lisa was lovely, smart, and elegant. She worked as a nurse, both in private practice and in the Public Health Service. I learned at her funeral service yesterday that she was an avid bridge player, even devising a way to play after arthritis made it impossible for her to hold the cards. She loved to swim, and did so regularly at the pool in her community until not very long ago.

When I was researching my book, Lisa freely shared memories of her childhood in Germany with me. After The Year of Goodbyes was published last spring, I was honored to have her attend our book party, which is when the photograph you see above was taken.

Lisa was small of stature and thin, but something about her was very strong. I'm starting to realize that this may have misled me into viewing her as fairly indestructible, even at age 84. Naive me. I am so very sorry that she's gone.

Here is Lisa's obituary in The Washington Post.

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November 22, 2010

Wise Gardening

From author, poet, teacher, and librarian Jacqueline Jules comes this lovely poem for the Poesiealbum Project:

WISE GARDENING
by Jacqueline Jules

A world with all kinds of people
is like a garden
with all kinds of flowers.
Cultivate contrasting colors
for a captivating world worth watching.

Learn more about Jackie and her many books for children at http://www.jacquelinejules.com/.

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October 26, 2010

The Roosevelt Reporter

Going through some old scrapbooks recently, my mother and I found an article she wrote for her high school newspaper, the Roosevelt Reporter of Roosevelt High School in Washington, D.C. It's undated, but I believe it's from 1942, when she was 16--four years after she arrived here in this country, four years after the events described in The Year of Goodbyes. Entitled "American - And Glad of It!" the piece briefly describes a "typical" day in the all-Jewish school she attended back in Nazi Germany.

I was particularly struck by the consistency between the descriptions in her article and the descriptions she gave me more than 65 years later when I was interviewing her for The Year of Goodbyes. What a memory! Plus, then as now, she was relentlessly upbeat: "Don't think that we girls did not have any fun; we did," she wrote. "The girls all had a grand sense of humor, despite their constant fears. . . ."

So have a look, below. And, for Washingtonians and fans of the Washington Nationals baseball team, I'm also posting the staff box from that high school newspaper. There's my mother, then Jutta Salzberg, listed as a member of the Circulation staff, and who's that as editor-in-chief of the Roosevelt Reporter? Ted Lerner.

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October 4, 2010

Poetry by Celia Lee

Celia Lee (born Celia Horwitz) was a classmate of my mother's in the mid-1930s at the Jewish School for Girls in Hamburg, Germany.  Around the same time that my mother, Jutta Salzberg, emigrated to the United States, Celia left Germany for England. Both girls were twelve years old at the time. More than sixty years later, Celia and Jutta were reunited in Washington, D.C., along with five other Hamburg classmates. (More about this on pages 113-114 of The Year of Goodbyes).

Celia still lives in England. She shared with me her poetry book, Thoughts and Dreams (Erskine Press 1999), and has graciously allowed me to reprint two of her poems here.

Celia wrote Recuperation when she was eighteen years old. To me, the sense of a teenage girl aching for all she left behind, yet determined to let her new home heal her and to build her new life, is powerful.  The following poem, Memory, was written more than two decades later, when Celia was forty-three.

(thanks to Celia Lee for reprint permission)

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June 17, 2010

The Holton-Arms School

Last month, I spent two days at the Holton-Arms School in Bethesda, Maryland. After a middle school assembly about The Year of Goodbyes, I visited with five seventh-grade English classes. We used the poesiealbum as a springboard for talking about writing memories and creating your own histories. We debated whether poesiealbum entries are, in some ways, ancestors of Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, and other social media. We talked about the value of writing something meaningful and enduring but also brief enough to be written and read quickly. And then, the students wrote their own "poesies," responding to writing prompts like the ones found under the Create tab on this website. Here are some of the their pages.

Rayvin
Potomac, Maryland
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The world would be a better place
If hunger didn't strike
If everyone had a home
and a place to sleep at night
If people didn't discriminate
people could stand together
So stand with me people
and try to make change
for this earth we can try and rearrange.

Tola
Bowie, Maryland
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Yasmeen
Potomac, Maryland
----------

Hatred is a kind of wasted energy.
A word used too much,
An action shown too much.
Different is not bad, just unfamiliar.
Something different can teach a lot.
Inspiration is a positive outreaching word
that provides the motivation for trying.

Caroline
Chevy Chase, Maryland
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(Click here for a Holton-Arms School newsletter article about the visit.)

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June 13, 2010

Irene Tomczak Yeates and Stefania Tomczak

Dear Jutta,

As I walked home from school, I knew it was late. I stopped at Ciochka’s house in the hopes of receiving a special treat. I was 13 years old, it was 1941, and I did not heed my mother’s words. If I had, would I have missed the Germans’ open transport truck filled with people I knew? But the truck had room for one skinny Catholic Polish girl from Chelm. I wonder what my life would have been, if only I did not tarry too long. Mamushka was waiting. . . .

Stefania

This entry is from Irene Tomczak Yeates of Saratoga Springs, New York. Irene is writing in the voice of her mother, Stefania, who was a young Catholic girl living in German-occupied Poland in 1941, during World War II.

On the day described in this entry, Stefania stopped to see her aunt (her “Ciochka”) on her way home from school. She knew her mother wanted her to come straight home--but on this day, she didn't obey. Then, as Stefania set out again to continue her walk home, she was intercepted by the German truck and ordered aboard. The truck transported Stefania and the other passengers out of their hometown of Chelm to Germany. Stefania never saw her mother and father again.

In the German village to which she was taken, Stefania was put to work as a forced laborer until the end of the war. As Irene writes:

My mother never revealed the name of the village in Germany where she was taken. She was fortunate to be a laborer in a Reich household as caretaker to the officer’s mother. It was a large house with acreage. He had raised Lipizzaner horses before the war. While my mother lived in the house, other laborers lived in the barn. She slept on a cot in the kitchen, and her primary duty was the care of “Oma.” However, she performed any household duties relegated to her. The officer was married, and his wife and children lived in the house. Other laborers performed more demanding household chores, such as cleaning, laundry, cooking, etc.

After the war, Stefania was released from her forced labor and lived in Displacement Persons (DP) camps for six years. DP camps were temporary, often dreary, temporary living quarters for hundreds of thousands of Europeans, including many orphaned children, who were uprooted by the Holocaust and the war. Stefania met her first husband and had two children born in the DP camps--including Irene Tomczak Yeates. In 1951, just before her fourth birthday, Irene immigrated to the United States, along with her brother and their mother Stefania.

Irene adds:

My mother never spoke of her experiences until I was in my twenties. Even then, it was “bits and pieces,” and she was very private about her life. When I asked if I could record her life history, she responded, “It’s my life, and it will stay my life.”

This is Stefania’s birth and baptism document.

This is Irene’s “green card”—a card that documents her arrival in the U.S. as a legal immigrant in 1951.

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