January 27 is the International Holocaust Remembrance Day, set by a UN official resolution on November 1st 2005.
There can be no reversing the unique tragedy of the Holocaust. It must be remembered, with shame and horror, for as long as human memory continues. Only by remembering can we pay fitting tribute to the victims. Millions of innocent Jews and members of other minorities were murdered in the most barbarous ways imaginable. We must never forget those men, women and children, or their agony. Kofi Annan, UN Secretary General, January 27, 2006.
The Holocaust is the term used to describe the murder of approximately 6 Millions European Jews, during World War II, part of Hitler’s Final Solution.
The Holocaust is not a subject you happen to bring up in a conversation. There have been few cases I’ve been asked about it, usually when abroad, by friends trying to understand. But it’s not an easy subject to explain. Today I set my clock to watch Paper Clips, a documentary film that captures how the children of Whitwell Middle School responded to lessons about the Holocaust – with a promise to honor every lost soul by collecting one paper clip for each individual exterminated by the Nazis. Inspiring project and a touching movie. They ended up collecting 11 millions paper clips (6 million Jew and another 5 million Gypsies), showcased in a rail car at the school yard.
Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Martyrs’ and Heroes Remembrance Authority, was established in 1953 by the Israeli Knesset and is entrusted with documenting the history of Jewish people during the Holocaust period. If you visit Israel you have to go there. I’ll join you. There’s never enough. Although it’s not something we advertise that much, Yad Vashem website has some parts running on IBM WebSphere Portal, such as The Central Database of Holocaust Victims’ Names. Earlier this week the CIO office told me Yad Vashem website is now available in another language, Arabic. Now Yad Vashem site supports 17 different languages.
My grandparents are Holocaust survivors. They were born in Poland in the 1920’s and were able to escape the camps – my grandfather dressed as a German cop and walked for days in the snowy German forest. He passed away in 1975 and my grandmother told me the stories.
We are running out of time. Time to sit with the survivors and hear their stories. Listen to their tone. Share the pain. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and she’s silent now.
I feel very fortunate to have heard her story, more than once, in her words.
Never Forget.
