My grandmother, Baila Halberstam, emigrated from Czechoslovakia to the US in 1946. Although she is deceased, we had a very close relationship until her death, 1 ½ years ago, when I was 18 years old. I did not have a chance to formally interview her; however, our conversations during her lifetime painted a picture of her journey to America and how she viewed the life she built there. I hope this narrative adequately describes her views and experiences.
Where shall I begin?
Perhaps you want me to talk about my childhood, however I don’t know if that’s possible. It all depends on how you define the word childhood. Does it merely mean the age gap of 5-15 years old, or would you explain it as the time period of innocence and freedom of burdens? If the latter is the case, then I am afraid to say, I had virtually no childhood. My childhood was stolen from me by those brutes, the Nazi’s, may their names be wiped out. I come from a wealthy family. We had maids. We wore nice clothing. We had many belongings. I NEVER went to bed hungry. We even had money in Swiss bank accounts. But mostly, I had a happy family life: two healthy parents, a sister, three brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Suddenly, in a matter of days, I was a poor, wretched, starved orphan with no family left besides my sister and one brother, and I was forced into hard labor. I can’t bear to describe that time period of my life, I try to forget those gruesome details. Who would want to remember those skeletal bodies, the ever present stench of death, and the picture of your loved ones being tortured and killed before your eyes.
Yet I hope with these few words, I gave you an understanding of where I was coming from when I emigrated to America. For me, America a place of refuge, a place to run away to. . . a safe haven.
Over the years, my definition of America has expanded.
America is where I married my dear husband, Yosef. America is where my three precious jewels, my son and two daughters were born and grew up. America is where I was reunited with my sister and brother after those months of treachery.
America is the place where I was finally able to take revenge on those creatures that you can barely call people. They tried to wipe out my nation, the Jews, but they were not successful. I wasn’t broken by them I built a family, proud of their Jewish identity!! I was driven to overachieve to avenge them. Although, most people are set back by the language barrier, I didn’t allow any barrier to stand before me. I learned English and I can proudly say I speak like a native. Not only that but I probably have a higher vocabulary than most Americans, since my favorite past time is to knit while I play Scrabble. And I don’t just play scrabble, I win scrabble!
America is the land on which I rebuilt. When I think of America, I think of second chances. I think of success. I have twelve beautiful successful grandchildren. I lived to be a great grandmother of 26 (4 more great grandchildren were born after her death.) All my descendants still wear my hand knitted clothing and pass them among each other. Not only that but my daughters inherited that skill from me. It is a skill I learned from my mother, a skill linking me to my homeland.
Although, I would call myself American, as I have lived here for 62 years of my life, my culture and religion binds me to my past, which I am proud of. I do not classify myself as a victim of the Holocaust. Rather I am royalty, I am a precious, for I have survived.
America is now the home of my descendants, yet I hope one day, Israel, the land of my nation, will become their home. That is where I truly feel at home. It brings me great pride that my grandson and his family have emigrated to Israel.
Yet, I am forever indebted and grateful to America, the land that turned my hope into reality.
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