We're Also Holocaust Survivors...

I had never really considered my family as being connected to the Holocaust, since all of my grandparents made it from Eastern Europe to the USA a couple of decades before World War Two. 

Both of my parents were born in Brooklyn, NY, just like me. I grew up in a neighborhood built after WWII for US military veterans. Our parents spoke native New York English. We didn't hear Yiddish at home. We were American Jews. I first heard about the Holocaust when the Anna Frank Diaries was being publicized, and then there was the Eichmann Trial. None of this was connected to my family.

My father had lots of aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides in New York. My mother had siblings, no aunts, uncles or cousins. When I was older I discovered that my mother's father had been born an orphan in the Ukraine. His father had been murdered in a pogrom, before he was born, and his mother died in childbirth. He was raised by grandparents. My mother didn't know which ones, and as a young man he went to America. My mother's mother left her family in Rogotshav, Belarus for New York, when married to her first husband. They had three daughters, but he died leaving her a poor widow. A few years later, she married my grandfather, who was widowed with two sons. Together they had four more children, including my mother.

My mother was never told much about all the family left in Rogotshav. My grandmother died before my third birthday, just before my brother was born, and I already had two children by the time my mother discovered that she had had an uncle in London. By then he had passed away, but with the help of HIAS my mother and her siblings discovered cousins in London and New Zealand.

Great-Grandfather
Vishnefsky

Great-Grandmother
Vishnefsky

After World War Two, neither my grandmother nor her brother ever discovered or heard from any surviving relatives. So, I guess you can say that my cousins, our children and grandchildren are the only SURVIVORS of the Vishnefsky Family of Rogotshov*. 

It's strange to think that it has taken me so long to realize that even though neither my parents nor grandparents suffered in concentration camps, death marches etc, we are part of the story.

Holocaust Memorial Day, 5772, 2022

*Honestly, I'd love to discover more Vishnefsky relatives.

That's where my Vishnefsky Family had lived

My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 3 Years

Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920-2016, United States Navy World War Two

You could say that in my father's death he did me a favor. He passed away just a few days before Passover, just as I was about to really clean and get the house ready for Pesach. It was also a year I had thought would never happen again. We were to host the Passover Seder for two of our (then) unmarried kids. They had requested a "quiet" Seder "without strange strangers."

I'm a terrible housekeeper; the Pesach cleaning is always very stressful for me.  And I had thought that I'd retired from Seder hosting, since our daughter now hosts the big family one every two years, and we've been going to others as guests on the alternate years.

Once I got the news that my father had died, from the complications of "old age," my halachic, Jewish Law status changed. Since I wasn't going to travel to New York for the funeral, which would only be three days later, also leaving no time for more than a bare minimum shiva, Jewish ritual mourning period, of less than an hour, my status as a morner began almost immediately.

As a mourner, I was forbidden to clean, cook etc. My children and husband had to make time to take over all responsibilities for Passover and the Seder. All the food we had already bought for the Seder was sent to my married daughter, who suddenly became the expert in preparing Gefilte Fish. I wasn't supposed to even peek into the kitchen to give orders.

My father with his brother,
my Uncle George, who had
predeceased him.

My father with his brother,
my mother, who had
predeceased him.

My father was blessed with a long life, even though he wasn't all that happy being the very last of his generation. His brother and sister had both died before him, as did my mother. He missed them all.

During World War Two, my father served in the United States Navy, being a pioneer in the use of radar. He discovered that a lot of his training had been riddled with inaccurate presumptions. A gifted "problem solver," his analysis and solutions were crucial to the success of radar in the Pacific against Japan.

After the war, he found my mother, whom he had first met before going overseas, and married her. When they were first married, they lived in Brooklyn, NY, where they had both been born. When I, their firstborn, was an infant we moved to Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY, where my brother and sister were born. In late summer, 1962, we moved to Great Neck, NY. My father worked as an accountant, adding CPA to his qualifications. After starting his career in the State Insurance Fund, he began a private practice on the side, eventually only working for himself.

Family, friends and work were my father's life; he had no hobbies.

Later on my father suffered a form of dementia that affected his ability to care for himself, but left him very social and fascinating. At one point, due to my mother's condition, she could no longer care for him, and we brought my father to Israel to live with us. My father enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, niece and other family members. Here in Shiloh, my father made a lot of friends, and we had hoped that my mother would join him in Israel, but it didn't work out. Instead, my sister cleared the house for sale and moved my mother to Arizona, near her. We brought my father to join her. 

That's why they both died in Arizona, but they're buried in New York, in the burial plot of Oakland Jewish Center, of which they were among the founders. Both my parents stayed New Yorkers in their minds and hearts. One of the standard questions asked to check dementia is:

"Where do you live?"

My parents would answer "New York," even after being moved to Arizona. That answer to me was not due to dementia. I have no doubt that they were totally accurate. They were just visiting Arizona until they were to be returned to New York, buried among their old friends. 

לעילוי נשמתו

אלכסנדר זיסקין בן צבי הירש

בן דוד יוסף 

בן אלכסנדר זיסקין

Life in The Fast Lane, Pre-Shabbat Message

I must get off the computer quickly. Shabbat is soon, and I have lots to do.

Life is too short to put things off. Especially now that I'm now officially a senior citizen, retired and all, I try to take advantage of opportunities. When my friend and I suddenly discovered that we could just go on the new Jerusalem high speed train to the airport, not only for free, but immediately, we did it.

Everyday we're offered opportunities. We just must notice and take advantage. It's important to see family and friends as frequently as possible. There's no guarantee that there will be a tomorrow.

Let's enjoy the sunshine and the rain.

Sometimes it is hard to put that smile on your face, but since smiles can be contagious, they're worth the effort.

Blessings for a Joyful and Peaceful and Exciting Shabbat and Life

We Don't Need A Special Thanksgiving Day

Today I wrote the following on facebook:

In the 47 years since we left the USA for Israel, I think I've had one Thanksgiving dinner. But I thank Gd all the time I'm here.

And seven years ago, I wrote this post:

It's Not Thanksgiving If It's Not At Aunt Pauline's...

My old family Thanksgivings weren't like the ones pictured in magazines, television and movies. They were unique to my family, sort of holy in a way. And that's probably why when I moved to Israel as a young bride I never thought of looking for lanstsmen to make an American style Thanksgiving meal. It wasn't "Thanksgiving" I had once looked forward to every November, it was being with my maternal family, all of the cousins, aunts and uncles.

Since making Aliyah, moving to Israel, in 1970, I never missed living in America. At times I missed people, but I never once wavered in my conviction that I had done the right thing getting on that boat. My husband and I never once discussed living anyplace other than here in Israel. It was a given for us. Thank Gd. So many couples have decades, a lifetime of debates, discussion and discord about this issue.

I am so thankful I am here. It's Thanksgiving Day all the time.

In Mourning...

I'll be taking a break from my regular schedule, since my brother passed away yesterday. Others may be posting on the blog. I may or may not or on different topics.

My brother didn't marry, so the mourners are me, my sister, our children, grandchildren and lots of loving cousins and family friends. The funeral will be in New York, and then next week I will return to Shiloh to finish the shiva.

my brother, the loving uncle

My brother lived in Israel for quite a few months in the early 1970's and learned Hebrew in Moshav Argaman, when it had a "kibbutz ulpan" set up.

May he know peace...