Immigration Equity Then and Now

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Holocaust research, immigration law, Jewish refugees, Judenhaus, refugee policy

Closure doesn’t come easily for relatives of a Holocaust victim. More than ten years ago I discovered my great aunt Meta, a member of my father’s family who was left in Frankfurt when the family escaped to America. I did a lot of research and writing about Meta back then, and helped to organize a stolperstein memorial for her, but unanswered questions still nag at me.

My dad & his sister in Frankfurt, circa 1935

Why was Meta denied a U.S immigration visa even though my grandparents, my father and his sister got theirs? What happened to Meta after the family left for New York and before she was deported? Were there any additional records about her fate that I had not yet uncovered?

I spent a good part of the last six months researching these questions (again!). I’ve contacted three museums and historical institutes in Frankfurt am Main, all of which sent prompt replies with little new information. American institutions have been less responsive. My December 2021 inquiry to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum has not been answered. And I’ve received no reply to my request sent last August to the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Services to search for a copy of my family’s visa file. Although the agency offers this service for a fee, the average processing time is 180 business days.

The most significant new item I’ve uncovered is a photo with an aerial view of the Judenhaus (ghetto house) where Meta lived before she was deported (not for online publication though). However, I did learn a lot about U.S. immigration policies during the Nazi years and some of the changes in refugee law since World War II.

Despite great strides in protections for refugees, there are still inequities in how governments treat asylum claims. My latest article, Echoes of the Past in Europe’s Two-Tier Approach to Refugees, connects Meta’s experience with the fate of people seeking refuge during the humanitarian crises of today. Meta’s story has relevance for the thousands of displaced persons currently seeking refuge in Europe and elsewhere.

Building Bridges through the Obermayer Awards

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German Jews, Holocaust, Obermayer Awards

The quest to learn your family history in the aftermath of a genocidal era such as the Holocaust requires help from others. Survivors and their descendants seek answers from many sources, ranging from government officials to village historians. My own family research brought me into contact with many dedicated people in Hesse to whom I will always be grateful. Before moving to Germany, I was not aware that there is a formal way to honor “Germans who have made outstanding voluntary contributions to preserving the memory of their local Jewish communities.” It’s been done almost every year since 2000 through the Obermayer German Jewish History Awards.

Long-term correspondence with one of my blog readers brought about the opportunity to attend the 2015 Obermayer Awards. He had written to me on numerous occasions about Jörg Kap’s dedicated efforts to commemorate the Jewish community that once lived in Arnstadt, Thuringia. He first nominated Jörg for the Obermayer Award in 2007, but it wasn’t until he was joined by fifteen other nominators from around the world this year, that the jury selected Jörg for this distinguished honor. As Jörg Kaps presented his extensive efforts to preserve the memory of Arnstadt’s Jewish families, I had a sense of what his volunteer work meant to the descendant of one such family.

Jörg Kaps and this year’s four other Obermayer Award winners are just some of the non-Jewish Germans who have helped to reclaim and rebuild a part of Germany’s history and culture that was all but obliterated. Their publications, restorations, art works, exhibits, tours, lectures, and more are a significant part of Germany’s ongoing reconciliation efforts.

Lately, we hear a lot more from the media about threats to the future of Jewish life in Germany and the rest of Europe than we do about positive signs for the future. I’ve offered my own perspective on trends affecting Jewish life in Europe in a new article for Tikkun Daily: Jewish in Europe: Another Perspective.

All Cracked Up

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Berlin, Holocaust

Some people are not disturbed by the cracks in the concrete blocks of Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial. They see the decay as part of a natural process that does not detract from the memorial’s powerful impact on millions of visitors. But how does the structural damage affect the visitor’s effort to find meaning in the 2,710 concrete slabs designed and built to memorialize the murdered Jews of Europe?

An argument could be made that the cracks blend in with the otherwise plain concrete columns, but the steel braces around the most damaged slabs are another story. My impression is that they make the blocks look more like coffins and divert the mind from its real and imaginary journey through this cold and sterile expanse. As the decay continues and more steel collars are secured to hundreds of slabs, the memorial and its hefty maintenance costs are becoming an increasing embarrassment for the City of Berlin.

The memorial won’t crumble any time soon and experts insist there is no threat to visitor safety. Whether the construction company or natural forces are to blame for the decay is an open question that is being investigated by a Berlin court. Its findings will comprise yet another chapter in the history of a landmark with an already troubled past. If you have not yet been to the memorial, it’s still well worth a visit. But you might want to come sooner rather than later.

Check out this article for a little more background information on Berlin’s cracked up Holocaust Memorial: Berlin’s Holocaust memorial is falling apart

Raindrops and Tears

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Altwiedermus, Bar Mitzvah, German Jews, Holocaust, stolpersteine

Perhaps if it hadn’t rained so much I wouldn’t have cried so much. But the rain gave such a sombre tone to the day of my great-aunt Meta’s memorial. A Stone for Meta has now become a reality.  Meta’s stolperstein was placed in front of her former home in Altwiedermus on July 2nd. On this day we honored her memory and restored her to our family. Within the warm embrace of the Ronneburg community, we said kaddish (the Jewish mourners’ prayer) for Meta for the first time and will do so each year on this date.

Amidst the grief and sorrow of the day there was also closure and a spark of joy. Our son Avery, who became a bar mitzvah last year, radiated strength and calm as he stood next to me on the steps of the Adler family’s former home. Avery provided me with a solid embrace as I struggled to speak for Meta and he led the kaddish for her. He has indeed become a Jewish adult and is ready to assume a leadership role within the next generation of our family. Stay tuned for an upcoming article with further reflections on the significance of reclaiming lost memories.

Gleis 17, Grunewald, Berlin

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Berlin, German Jews, Gleis 17, Holocaust

Surrounded by the forest, we stood on the deserted train platform on a warm and quiet Friday afternoon. A few yards away people were enjoying their afternoon coffees and beers. We were at the gateway to one of Berlin’s most vast and inviting recreational areas, an idyllic spot that is also the former gateway to transports bound eastward: to Theresienstadt, Auschwitz, Lodz and Riga.

More than 50,000 Berlin Jews were deported to ghettos and concentration camps between October 1941 and February 1945, a majority from the Grunewald station. 186 metal grates line both sides of the platform, one for each transport stamped with the date, destination and number of Jews who were deported. Step by step we walked through the Deutsche Reichsbahn daily record of human cargo moved from Point A to Point B. The metal slabs tell the story of a nightmare that took place in a fairy tale setting. The Grunewald station is still a stop on the S7 line of the S-Bahn, but the only traffic on Gleis 17 is from those who come to pay their respects.

A Category in Search of Words

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Berlin, German citizenship, Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

After two years of blogging, it’s time to get a little more organized. Pending creation of a web site (anyone want to help me with that?), I’ve created some categories to make it easier for readers to search my blog. The categories reflect the most common topics I’ve written about. One category with a lot of entries is Article 116 Citizenship, reflecting my long saga that came to a happy conclusion last fall. Although you won’t find detailed instructions on how to reclaim your German citizenship on my blog (you can get those from the German Consulate), you may find some useful hints and information. And if you have questions about the process, just ask!

The category with the fewest number of entries is ironically one that has most deeply captivated my attention: Holocaust Memorials. The ability to put into words the impact of these creations has often eluded me despite the many hours I’ve spent in contemplation before them. This is especially true for the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe which sits between Potsdamer Platz and the Brandenburg Gate in the heart of Berlin. I’m silenced by this memorial, silenced and alone, with no connection to anyone or anything around me. Peter Eisenman’s memorial speaks with great power but does not tell us what to think. Perhaps one day I will find the words to describe how I feel in this place to reflect and remember. But perhaps words cannot convey any added meaning to what the eye beholds.

A Stone for Meta

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Altwiedermus, Bar Mitzvah, German Jews, Hessen Jews, Holocaust, Judaism, stolpersteine

My Great-Aunt Meta Adler

We know almost nothing about her and that will never change. But she will be remembered. We must rely on our imaginations to fill in the enormous gaps about her life in Germany before the “final solution” became her fate. And we can imagine her new life in America, if only the U.S. government had approved her application to emigrate with the rest of my father’s family.

What we do know is that she was an unmarried Jewish woman who worked as a maid and was too shy or scared to give satisfactory answers to the questions that determined eligibility for emigration to the U.S.  According to my Aunt Ellen, my grandmother was forced to send Meta back to Frankfurt after the rest of the family was granted permission to emigrate in 1938.  At the age of 44 Meta returned to Frankfurt without any personal resources. She spent another four years there, was eventually forced into a Judenhaus, and then deported in May 1942. We have tried without success to find out where she was deported to and her date of death.

Later this year we will place a stolperstein (brass stumbling stone) in Frankfurt for Meta. This stone, placed at the site of Meta’s last freely chosen residence, will join the more than 25,000 others throughout Europe (see Stolpersteine: Stones to Remember). Pedestrians who tread on Meta’s stone will have the opportunity to reflect on another Holocaust victim.  Meta’s stone will also represent the 13 Jews of Altwiedermus and my paternal ancestors whose lives were obliterated by the Nazis. Our son Avery, who will have his bar mitzvah in Berlin this October, will raise the 95 euros for Meta’s memorial stone as his bar mitzvah project.

Stolpersteine…….Stones to Remember

Tags

Bar Mitzvah, Berlin, German Jews, Germany, Holocaust, Judaism, stolpersteine

stolpersteine near our apartment

The rich cultural attractions of Jewish life in Berlin are so plentiful that it is easy to initially overlook one small but remarkable feature of the urban landscape: stolpersteine. Berlin is one of hundreds of European communities where pedestrians can tread across stolpersteine, brass stumbling stones that are designed to remember individual victims of the Holocaust.  The thousands of cobblestone memorials throughout Germany and Europe were designed by artist Gunter Demnig who conceived the project in 1993.  Demnig’s 4 inch memorials are a powerful  contrast to Berlin’s vast and imposing Holocaust Memorial which purposely omits the names of Holocaust victims.

stolperstein for Salomon Schlome

Each stolperstein contains just enough information about the victim to unleash our imagination about the life that was lost: a name, birth date, and the date and location of deportation and death if it is available.  The stones are generally placed in front of the last known freely chosen residence of the victim. While Demnig’s intent is not to place 6 million stones throughout Europe, there is a concerted effort to memorialize homosexuals, Gypsies, and political victims of the Holocaust, as well as Jews.

As our family has gradually become attuned to the presence of the stolpersteine, we’ve begun to think about taking part in this international effort to remember. It is time for Avery to choose a humanitarian project to undertake for his bar mitzvah and this is one option that he is seriously considering. The time, effort, and research involved in adding one stone to the thousands already in place might touch his life more deeply than a film, book, or museum exhibit could.

The stolpersteine have not been placed without controversy over impacts on property values and businesses, and some Jews have questioned whether stepping on the names of the victims is an appropriate way to remember them. Individual communities have used the democratic process to determine whether the stones should have a place in the streets of their cities and towns. There are now more than 25,000 stolpersteine on ground once dominated by the Nazis.  Perhaps our family will add one more.

stolperstein for Paula Guttman

stolperstein for Elly Schlome