My grandparents spoke Yiddish and were religious.
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Displaying 45451 - 45480 of 50826 results
Herta Vysna
After liberation, I came to Bratislava where I went to the Red Cross office to search for my parents and relatives. I learned that only my brother survived. I went with him to Pata and stayed there for some time. Then I moved to Bratislava, married Lorand and had two daughters, Dagmar and Lydia.
Now I am retired and involved in Jewish community life, particularly helping elderly survivors of the Holocaust.
Now I am retired and involved in Jewish community life, particularly helping elderly survivors of the Holocaust.
Slovakia
As the situation got worse, my father decided to take the family to Bratislava and stay there illegally. We lived in one room, and my father pretended every morning that he was leaving for work. In fact, he spent the whole day near the Danube. After the air raids started, we had to hide in the cellar. We had been hiding in that room and had never been seen leaving before then. The house residents recognized us as strangers, and someone immediately reported our presence to the Gestapo. We were caught once again and again deported to the labor camp in Sered. After spending some time in Sered, we were deported to Birkenau, where my parents died. I survived the death march and was liberated by partisans in Czech Vrchlabi.
Slovakia
I witnessed several pogroms in Trnava. I saw Slovak Hlinka guards cruelly attacking and beating Jews as they left the local synagogue. In the spring of 1942, the deportations started; my parents decided it would be safer for me to be at home with them, and they brought me back.
Our estate and farm were formally Aryanized by a deputy of the Slovak parliament. He was a Lutheran and was very decent to my family. Hlinka guards attempted to round us up three times; finally, they succeeded in taking us to the Sered labor camp but, thanks to our protector, we were released.
Our estate and farm were formally Aryanized by a deputy of the Slovak parliament. He was a Lutheran and was very decent to my family. Hlinka guards attempted to round us up three times; finally, they succeeded in taking us to the Sered labor camp but, thanks to our protector, we were released.
Slovakia
I was born in 1930 in Nitra, Slovakia, a town only 7 kilometers from the former labor camp in Sered. I lived with my parents and brother on our estate. I started school in Sered; however, as soon as the anti-Jewish legislation was introduced, my parents transferred me to Trnava, where I lived with friends of my family.
My father, Bernhardt Wohlstein, was born in 1888 in Sulovace. He had three brothers: Viliam, Gustav and Adolf. Their father, Samuel Wohlstein, was born in Krnca in 1860. Their mother’s name was Katarina.
My mother, Renata Schubertova-Wohlsteinova, was born in Cataj in 1900. Her brother was named Julius, and her sister was Melania, who married Mr. Kulko. Her parents were Maximilian and Lolka Schubert.
My parents were married in 1920; they died in the concentration camp at Birkenau.
My father, Bernhardt Wohlstein, was born in 1888 in Sulovace. He had three brothers: Viliam, Gustav and Adolf. Their father, Samuel Wohlstein, was born in Krnca in 1860. Their mother’s name was Katarina.
My mother, Renata Schubertova-Wohlsteinova, was born in Cataj in 1900. Her brother was named Julius, and her sister was Melania, who married Mr. Kulko. Her parents were Maximilian and Lolka Schubert.
My parents were married in 1920; they died in the concentration camp at Birkenau.
Slovakia
Simon Glasberg
I still take part in the events organized by the Jewish Community in Botosani. The community’s president [Iosif David] summons me, he calls me on the phone from time to time, as he has on this occasion. He knows that I am sometimes busy, for there is the garden as well, and my grandson. For some people only have their wife or husband when they retire, or they only have themselves to look after, and in that case of course they can be a pillar of the Community and of the synagogue. But when you have family, household obligations, you can’t be readily available, you can’t attend every event. But he sometimes calls me, when there are funerals, for a minyan is needed on such occasions, you can’t recite the Kaddish for the dead without a minyan. And on these occasions I perform ‘am mitzvah,’ as they say.
And now, after having retired, I want to continue to be useful to society, I am a technical law expert, an expert assessor for real estate and other goods, and I want to render myself useful. That is what I did until recently, now I mainly handle projects for obtaining European funding, vehicles, tractors for farmsteads. I have my office at home – since I have a three-room apartment, one room serves as a dining room where we watch television, one as a living room, and one as an office. I still get working contracts, some of which are in the field of my former profession; for instance, I was recently told that they needed an agro-chemical study this autumn, a soil analysis to determine how to use fertilizers. I take on whatever I can and I try to be useful in any way I can, I charge negotiable, advantageous fees, much smaller than others so that I can get some work, earn some money – for we need it.
My only possessions are a three-room apartment, an automobile, and a Dacia at that – I would have wanted to have a better car, maybe I will get it next year, or two years from now, if we live until then, if we are in good health –, a garden – actually, it is my wife’s, as mine remained in Radauti next to our parental home, and my middle brother lost it, for the house and land were somehow confiscated when he left for Israel. Back then, under the dictatorial communist regime, they gave you very small, symbolic compensations, which he refused to accept and he has an ongoing lawsuit against the Romanian State, but without any hope of winning the case.
Speaking about my children still living in Romania, they said they didn’t want to leave, like father, like son, most likely. My son is decidedly conservative by nature, prone to philosophy – to a greater degree than I am –, he says that one can live anywhere as long as people respect one another, as long as they do unto others as they would be done by, live in harmony with one another. It goes without saying, I couldn’t have forced him to do so, but neither did I urge him too persistently, for going to live in a foreign country, even that of your ancestors, is something that, nevertheless, involves a high degree of risk regarding integration, learning a new language which isn’t an easy one to master, getting used to living among a diversity of people – it isn’t by any means easy.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
I have traveled many times to Israel, and I was impressed on every occasion. I’m particularly impressed by Jerusalem; I have been impressed, and still am, by Israel as a whole, by the fact that this people labeled – wrongfully to a large extent, I believe – as a people of former innkeepers, racketeers, profiteers on account of other peoples generally speaking, has managed through hard work to develop there that infrastructure, those buildings, that distinctive order. The Jewish people is an intelligent people, but we must also admit its shortcomings: everyone enjoys being slightly übergespitzt – this is a rather improvised German term – than others, which means being a smart aleck in relation to others. Nevertheless, it was there that they realized that only by means of determination and work… [will you accomplish anything]. Certainly, they received financial support, but that doesn’t solve everything. No matter how much money there is, if there is no one willing to work and see to it that things get done in order to achieve what they have achieved, I believe it couldn’t be done. It took the sacrifice of several generations of Jews, starting with the chalutzim, the youth that left just after the war and lived in tents, and down to the next generations who managed to improve, to perfect. Of course they have problems of their own over there; insecurity is first and foremost, the enmity of Israel’s neighbors – hardly ever justified. It had something to do with land, territory, but any history will confirm that that was the land of Israel, and this people must have a territory to call its own.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
He was actually born in Israel, so his Romanian is not so good. The elder one speaks a bit of Romanian, what he remembers from childhood – he was 5 when he left –, we sometimes conversed in Romanian, but mostly in German. He worked for a company representing a company in Brussels, and he had to deal with German nationals as well, he was compelled to learn German, and he speaks it rather well.
My older brother, Herman Glasberg, left to Israel many years ago, around 1967-1968. The family of my sister-in-law, Lea – God rest her soul –, left earlier. She had a sibling but, being the older one, she was her mother’s favorite daughter, and she considered herself to be her parents’ main support at old age. And they insisted very much in their letters that she should go there, so much that my sister-in-law was on the brink of a nervous breakdown because of this. My brother didn’t really want to go, but the circumstances led to this, for he was a university lecturer in Iasi; however, as he wasn’t a member of the Communist Party – and, probably, as a secondary but unofficial reason, on account of his name being Glasberg – he was dismissed from his position in the educational system and, as his formation was that of an economist, he was appointed inspector at a bank. And this disappointment, in conjunction with his wife’s desire to emigrate, made him decide to leave. He remained rebellious in Israel, he was very puzzled by some aspects of capitalist society, despite the fact that he wasn’t a communist or a member of the Communist Party, but he was brought up with this reality, life seemed to him much more difficult over there. But still, he didn’t give in. He worked in a company as an economist, but it was rather difficult.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
They were born in Israel. They speak Hebrew very well, as well as English, of course, but they also speak Romanian, they speak Romanian very often at home. We use Skype to talk over the Internet, and of course I freeze at first, but I can talk to them afterwards, for, you see, I am shy, sentimental by nature. But we are very happy to hear one another almost daily.
She is married to Hedvin Grozinschi, born in Piatra Neamt of Jewish descent; he also graduated from faculty in Iasi, and they emigrated together. He insisted that they should leave, she hadn’t made up her mind, because she would have wanted us to be together. And we couldn’t leave. We just couldn’t. It wasn’t because we were afraid, for it doesn’t necessarily take a bomb to fall next to you to end your life, there is now a degree of insecurity even in Romania – it doesn’t in the least compare to the one in Israel, but it is there.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
My daughter’s name is Simona, she is a physician and is living in Israel. She left just after graduation, it will soon be 10 years since her departure. It was very difficult at first. She graduated medicine here, in Iasi, the school was very good, very demanding, but the state of Israel, and other states as well, require that her diploma be validated there. She had to pass an examination either in English or in Hebrew, and certainly, it was even more difficult to speak the specialized medical language in Hebrew – she speaks it now, but this is after several years of study, in addition to using it in order to talk to patients or co-workers. She passed the examination in English, she was crying almost every time we spoke on the phone; we encouraged her as much as we could, told her that everyone has difficult periods in life, that she must fight, that life itself is nothing but a choice between fighting and resigning, and more fighting again, of various degrees, of course, but even fighting a cold is still fighting. And she became a specialist physician, she is now a specialist in one of the most difficult specialties of medicine, endocrinology and endocrine diseases pathology; she is in London at present, where she was sent to complete a 1-year training course – different perspectives, different possibilities.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
And the second issue that I raised was: ‘You know what? There won’t be any problems at first, but there may be discussions along the way – the children might ask: "What religion are we? Where do we worship? In the church, in the temple? According to one of you, we should be going to the temple, according to the other, we should be going to church. What do we do?" And so, maybe we had better decide this, and given the fact that, nevertheless, you are half Jewish, and I’m not half Romanian, I’d like you to join the Mosaic religion if you believe, if you agree.’ And she said yes, that she believed it was entirely up to her, and that there was no problem, she would convert to Judaism. So we settled that. Of course, the children followed the natural course [of their own life]. If it came to pass that our son should enter a mixed marriage, this didn’t prevent him from becoming an Orthodox. He doesn’t attend the synagogue. He isn’t the type who goes to church too often, but on holidays, when celebrating the New Year or Easter with his parents-in-law, they do attend church. He doesn’t parade it, but he doesn’t conceal it either.
I raised 2 issues before we got married. One of them received a negative answer, and one of them received a positive answer from my wife-to-be. One of the issues was: seeing how hard working conditions were at an APC [Agricultural Production Co-operative], and given the isolation, I said that I’d like to go to Israel while still young, start a life there. And she told me: ‘I can’t accompany you because I have my parents here, I am an only child. And my father has always got along very well with Jews, but I don’t think so, I can’t even suggest that he should leave his house here to go and live over there; he doesn’t even speak the language – it would be extremely hard for him, and it would mean punishing him in his old age. And leaving them here in order to go so far away would be like turning my back on them, like being indifferent towards my parents.’ So she didn’t agree to that.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
We were married in 1964, I was 25. We skipped the engagement period. We were good friends, determined to get married. My parents-in-law were aware of it, [that we will have the wedding ceremony at the synagogue], and, oddly enough, they also consented. Naturally, as my mother-in-law was Jewish by birth, she shouldn’t have had reasons to be against the marriage. But my father-in-law, a gendarme without higher education, as they only graduated some sort of military high school – he attended high school in far-away Oradea, he used to call it Oradea Mare, those were his words, for he graduated the gendarmes high school at Oradea Mare –, and he wasn’t against it, there were no discussions. But we didn’t have the religious ceremony in Botosani, for we didn’t know many people there [from the Jewish Community in Botosani]. And I asked my older brother – he was a university lecturer in Iasi – to inquire if we could perform it in Iasi. And they [the rabbi] agreed to perform it in Iasi, but we had to pay a fee, for her religion was considered to be Orthodox, and she had to enter the Jewish religion. And then my brother said: ‘Bear in mind, my brother is a student, and he doesn’t really have money.’ For I didn’t – I was recently hired, my salary was small, incredibly small. And we went there, but I had to pretend to be a student – such were the times. They charged me something symbolic, I only paid a symbolic fee. [Her entering the Mosaic religion] was like a sort of baptism, there was a mikveh there, I know that there was a bathtub there, and I don’t know how it was performed – my wife told me the details back then, but countless years have passed since then. There was a rabbi in Iasi, but it wasn’t the rabbi who performed the wedding ceremony, but an assistant, who was also a sort of rabbi. It was performed in a synagogue. A kippah was used as well, so it was performed with everything required for a marriage ceremony.
She is partly Jewish – from her mother’s side –, as her mother was 100% Jewish. Her mothered entered a mixed marriage, she married Sandu. Her mother’s maiden name, my mother in law’s, as it were, was Berta Zoller. Her father had been administrator of an estate, too, somewhere on the bank of the river Prut, he had several daughters, and Berta was among them. My father-in-law worked in the Romanian gendarmerie and was appointed head of the unit of that locality. He was a very spruce individual, and he looked very handsome in that gendarme uniform, for it had all sorts of belts, epaulets, golden laces, and what not. And she literally fell in love. Of course, he loved her too. Her parents were against it. Oh, it was a semi-tragedy, for Mr. Sandu basically ran away with my mother-in-law, and they eloped without the parents knowing anything about it and got married at the registrar’s office. She became a Christian then, so that they could perform the religious ceremony. And the reverse happened, as their daughter performed the Mosaic religious wedding ceremony with me. And, in turn, my son performed the Orthodox religious wedding ceremony with my daughter-in-law.
Romania
I am married. I met my wife in Corni, she was teaching Romanian there at the school for 10 grades. As I was the best, the greatest, the nicest agronomy engineer in the village of Corni, seeing that I was the only one, I was invited, quite often even, to hold classes about my profession, about agriculture, nature. And as she was master of a class, we met, we started seeing each other.
That is why I emphasize once more – all the more so, as this recording might reach the western world: the collective farmstead wasn’t 100% bad. The collective system was a bad system, a bad planning system, a bad system regarding the infringement of human rights, a system that forced people to work mandatorily, both those that could and those that couldn’t – it was a political system, which was superposed over the economic one. But the technical-economic was good, because many regret it even to this day. They regret the large, cultivated, well tilled fields, the crop rotation, the absence of weeds, the large crops, and not what we have nowadays – something I often come across while wandering even today across the county of Botosani on various errands –, when you see countless untilled or poorly tilled lands – to the point that a country cannot rely on such a home agriculture. I believe we have become largely dependant on other countries’ well-organized agricultural systems – which is very sad for Romania, a country and a people with great resources.
However, I can say that during all the years of direct production, 7 in number, I was never told: ‘Jidan [derogatory term for Jew],’ I was never told: ‘Listen, go to your country, you have no business being here.’, I was never told: ‘We don’t need you here.’ On the contrary, despite being severe within humane limits, for otherwise it is impossible to run a business, I left room for mutual respect, so that even tens of years later I still meet peasants from the village of Corni who smile and ask me: ‘How are you doing, Mr. Engineer, sir?’ It is a small thing, yet small and modest as it is, the form of address makes me feel good every time, makes me feel taller as it were, as if unbent by the years that rest on my shoulders.
After graduating my first faculty I started working as an agronomy engineer. You received a mandatory repartition from the agriculture faculties, you didn’t simply choose where you wanted to be hired. And I received a repartition in Botosani, I could choose the facility in Roma – there is a locality called Roma in the county of Botosani, but it had nothing to do with Rome in Italy, except for the fact that it was placed on some hills, some hillocks –, the village of Roma includes three villages: Roma de Sus, Roma de Jos and Cotargaci. [Roma is located 14 km north-west of Botosani.] And I worked there for a year, the facility underwent a merger, I was young, so they requested me to move, and afterwards I worked for almost 5-6 years in another village, a village called Corni. [Corni is located 23 km south-west of Botosani.]
Work was very hard. We belonged to the generation of collectivization, of agricultural co-operatives [8] – we were a sacrifice generation, despite outside opinions or ideas that are not familiar with the specificity of the profession of agronomy engineers, and that portray us as tools of the communist party for implementing collectivization and for administering those communal farmsteads – later called Agricultural Production Co-operatives. I say that on the contrary, the largest percent of those working in this branch were cannon fodder, meaning that I had an inhumane work schedule, we had to work even Sundays – during those 40 years of work I had no idea what weekend meant, except from foreign motion pictures –, and during the years of collectivization [the late 1940’s and throughout the 1950’s], and even afterwards, the amount of work was enormous because, being the only engineer in an agricultural facility with more than 3,000 ha and 2 livestock breeding sectors, as the case was in Corni, in the county of Botosani, there was work to be done. If possible, I could have worked for 24 hours out of 24, and still it wouldn’t have been enough, as I was the only one in charge of making all the technical decisions, and on many occasions, not only the technical ones; the citizen in charge of the facility was a very decent person, we got along well, he respected me, but it was still he who used to tell me: ‘Listen, please, you take care of my problems as well, for I will go wherever you send me to oversee a work process, where work is being done, but you run this facility.
Work was very hard. We belonged to the generation of collectivization, of agricultural co-operatives [8] – we were a sacrifice generation, despite outside opinions or ideas that are not familiar with the specificity of the profession of agronomy engineers, and that portray us as tools of the communist party for implementing collectivization and for administering those communal farmsteads – later called Agricultural Production Co-operatives. I say that on the contrary, the largest percent of those working in this branch were cannon fodder, meaning that I had an inhumane work schedule, we had to work even Sundays – during those 40 years of work I had no idea what weekend meant, except from foreign motion pictures –, and during the years of collectivization [the late 1940’s and throughout the 1950’s], and even afterwards, the amount of work was enormous because, being the only engineer in an agricultural facility with more than 3,000 ha and 2 livestock breeding sectors, as the case was in Corni, in the county of Botosani, there was work to be done. If possible, I could have worked for 24 hours out of 24, and still it wouldn’t have been enough, as I was the only one in charge of making all the technical decisions, and on many occasions, not only the technical ones; the citizen in charge of the facility was a very decent person, we got along well, he respected me, but it was still he who used to tell me: ‘Listen, please, you take care of my problems as well, for I will go wherever you send me to oversee a work process, where work is being done, but you run this facility.
I also received my degree as Doctor in Philosophy before retiring. At work, my colleagues used to call me ‘comrade Study’ – that was the term people used back then, comrade. I have been and I remained a person who enjoyed poring over books, considering issues of the past and present, and of course I try to imagine what the future will be like, like many people who hope it will be better.
Five years later, around 1967, I started attending my second faculty, the technical-economic faculty in Bucharest, but under the optional attendance system. This lasted for 3 years, and by 1970-1971 I had already passed the state examination. So I also have a degree as economy engineer. This technical-economic faculty served a good purpose, as it broadened the horizon. For we, technicians, are rather narrow-minded when it comes to technical matters, and accountants, economists, are narrow-minded when it comes to economy issues. The technician became aware from a technical-economic point of view, namely that any technical decision involves an expense, requires a revision of expenses, and it proved the economist the importance technicians, for nevertheless, technicians are the ones who advance, they are the engine of society.
I served my military service as students did, namely during the faculty, followed by a summons after graduation of two and a half months spent here, at the military facility in Botosani.
And the following year, in 1956, I sat for an examination for medical school, failed to pass, and during the second session of exams I applied for agronomy in Iasi instead of medical school, and I passed the examination for agronomy. Of course, attending this faculty was easier despite the fact that it is a difficult faculty, contrary to some opinions that say: ‘Wait, what do you study? About planting seeds and looking after animals.’ But before studying about that, the direct technology of crops or raising livestock, you learn botany, plants diseases – which is called fitopathology –, I studied animal anatomy and physiology. The faculty lasted for 5 years and half – I could have easily completed medical school. I supported myself during the 5 years and a half using my stipend, otherwise my mother couldn’t have supported me. And in 1962 I graduated the Faculty of Agronomy.
I wanted to attend the Military Academy as I had dreams of becoming an officer, but I wanted to become an officer dealing with technical matters, matters of design – I was dreaming of becoming an airplane designer. Those magazines I found [in the attic on returning from Transnistria] had a great influence on me. Seeing so many vehicles – those were war vehicles, of course –, and capable of very easily imagining ships, submarines, tanks, airplanes, you name it, I used to say: ‘Well, here’s what, I will become a designer of ships or airplanes.’ And it goes without saying that my name and origin weighed heavily at the Military Academy and, without being communicated my results after the written examination, although having apparently passed it, my application for personnel was rejected… for personnel office. And I had to make an about turn, go home.
Elementary school consisted of 7 grades, after which I attended 3 years of high school – schooling consisted of 10 grades in those days – at the Eudocsiu Hurmuzache High School in Radauti, a very good high school with a good tradition, we didn’t have much time for distractions as pupils. There was a high degree of knowledge compressed in the three years of high school. In other words, from a certain point of view it’s better to stretch it to cover 4-5 years, so that pupils can be a little more relaxed, so that they a little have less to study. But we had to swot during those 3 years in order to graduate. I graduated high school in 1955. So I was 16 – a mere child.
On graduating from high school you received a bachelor’s degree, you could attend any faculty you wanted.
On graduating from high school you received a bachelor’s degree, you could attend any faculty you wanted.
My language wasn’t well-defined, as my entire childhood since I was 2 and until I was 5 and a half – for three years and a half – I spoke a medley of words. We spoke German at home, even during our period as evacuees; I would meet other Jewish children outside our home, they spoke Yiddish, Ukrainian, Romanian and, as a result, I spoke 2-3 words in Romanian and then 1 word in another language, or I used the Romanian word, but unintelligibly.