Maria Goldberg

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Marianne Kielian- Gilbert

15yrs

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Lana Eisenberg

15yrs

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Helenek

15yrs

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David Richards

15yrs

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Halina Goldberg

15yrs

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Aurelia Pawlak

15yrs

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Grzegorz Kempinsky

15yrs

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EWa Pikulska

15yrs

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Justyna

15yrs

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Barbara Grabowska

15yrs

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Basia, Zbyszek i Marcin

15yrs

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Hans and Alice

15yrs

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Aurelia Pawlak

15yrs

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Ayana Smith

15yrs

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Jadwiga Konopacka

15yrs

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Jadwiga Konopacka

15yrs

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Lynn Hooker

15yrs

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Joanna, Peter, Sissy and Beccy

15yrs

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Benjamin Vogel

15yrs

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Jacek Piwkowski

15yrs

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Michael Spudic

15yrs

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Remembering mom
Yesterday, when I was aimlessly going ‘round mom’s home, I kept thinking of Szymborska’s poem, “A Cat in an Empty Apartment”:
Die? One does not do that to a cat.
Because what's a cat to do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls.
Caress against the furniture.
It seems that nothing has changed here,
but yet things are different.
Nothing appears to have been relocated,
yet everything has been shuffled about.
The lamp no longer burns in the evenings.
….
Something here does not begin
at its usual time.
Something does not happen quite
as it should
Here someone was and was,
then suddenly disappeared
and now is stubbornly absent.
….
Mom was a traditional housewife who devoted her life to her family: taking care of home and raising children.
It would appear that I am completely different, but I think that despite appearances I inherited a lot of her qualities. On occasion, acquaintances that have not seen me for years would comment with surprise in their voice that I look exactly the way mom did when she was my age. That’s a good thing, since mom was a very beautiful woman and I would consider myself very lucky to have inherited a drop of her charm. I do realize, however, that just like her I know how to enjoy life; I like to sing and dance and laugh aloud. Like her I connect with people with ease. Like her I am a forest creature, for whom long walks in the woods are the source of inner peace and joy.

Remembering mom Yesterday, when I was aimlessly going ‘round mom’s home, I kept thinking of Szymborska’s poem, “A Cat in an Empty Apartment”: Die? One does not do that to a cat. Because what's a cat to do in an empty apartment? Climb the walls. Caress against the furniture. It seems that nothing has changed here, but yet things are different. Nothing appears to have been relocated, yet everything has been shuffled about. The lamp no longer burns in the evenings. …. Something here does not begin at its usual time. Something does not happen quite as it should Here someone was and was, then suddenly disappeared and now is stubbornly absent. …. Mom was a traditional housewife who devoted her life to her family: taking care of home and raising children. It would appear that I am completely different, but I think that despite appearances I inherited a lot of her qualities. On occasion, acquaintances that have not seen me for years would comment with surprise in their voice that I look exactly the way mom did when she was my age. That’s a good thing, since mom was a very beautiful woman and I would consider myself very lucky to have inherited a drop of her charm. I do realize, however, that just like her I know how to enjoy life; I like to sing and dance and laugh aloud. Like her I connect with people with ease. Like her I am a forest creature, for whom long walks in the woods are the source of inner peace and joy.

15yrs

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Remembering mom cont'd
Although I spent my entire youth vigorously fighting against her attempts to shape my life, in reality mom had a tremendous impact on my life choices. It was her love for music that landed me in a music school; it is because of her I fell in love with music and ultimately chose the profession of musicology—a profession that is a daily source of fun and satisfaction to me. It is my traditional, seemingly non-feminist mom that repeatedly said: daughter, you need to be educated—a woman should have a profession and be independent.

Mom loved her family above all: her husband, son, daughter, and her darling granddaughter, Helene. But she also showed great generosity of spirit towards others. Even today, there are people among us who can tell stories about how she helped them, brought them close to her heart, into her family.

In my mother we lose not only a single human being, but also a whole world of which she was one of the last representatives: the pre-war, Jewish Lodz. That me, my husband, and her granddaughter with her husband are able to say goodbye to her is a particular privilege, since mom herself was not able to say goodbye to her own mother, sisters, and brothers, who died in the Lodz Ghetto and in the camps. She was also not able to say goodbye to her son who died far away from her as an emigrant in Denmark. I think that last Shabbes they were waiting for her and welcomed her, for she departed quietly, softly, with a radiant smile… as if joyfully walking towards the ones she missed so much for all those years.
Thank you mom. Now we will miss you.

Remembering mom cont'd Although I spent my entire youth vigorously fighting against her attempts to shape my life, in reality mom had a tremendous impact on my life choices. It was her love for music that landed me in a music school; it is because of her I fell in love with music and ultimately chose the profession of musicology—a profession that is a daily source of fun and satisfaction to me. It is my traditional, seemingly non-feminist mom that repeatedly said: daughter, you need to be educated—a woman should have a profession and be independent. Mom loved her family above all: her husband, son, daughter, and her darling granddaughter, Helene. But she also showed great generosity of spirit towards others. Even today, there are people among us who can tell stories about how she helped them, brought them close to her heart, into her family. In my mother we lose not only a single human being, but also a whole world of which she was one of the last representatives: the pre-war, Jewish Lodz. That me, my husband, and her granddaughter with her husband are able to say goodbye to her is a particular privilege, since mom herself was not able to say goodbye to her own mother, sisters, and brothers, who died in the Lodz Ghetto and in the camps. She was also not able to say goodbye to her son who died far away from her as an emigrant in Denmark. I think that last Shabbes they were waiting for her and welcomed her, for she departed quietly, softly, with a radiant smile… as if joyfully walking towards the ones she missed so much for all those years. Thank you mom. Now we will miss you.

15yrs

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Inger hemme

15yrs

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Maria Goldberg

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