My family was supposed to leave Germany on November 10, 1938, but Kristallnacht foiled our escape plan. What my mother did next saved our lives.
Ron Rosenbaum’s article lambasting Wiesel’s supposed gentrification of the Holocaust is an exercise in misguided sensationalism.
“Go home to your wife and children,” the wizened old rabbi told me. “This is a place for old men.”
Millions died in the Holocaust. But how does a child’s mind relate to that? When one individual’s story is told, the number begins to have meaning.
My first visit was a personal call to sympathy for the victims of the Holocaust; my second was a philosophical inquiry into the minds of the Nazis.
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