{"id":898128,"date":"2022-12-24T18:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-12-24T15:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=898128"},"modified":"2022-12-24T18:00:00","modified_gmt":"2022-12-24T15:00:00","slug":"in-brooklyn-one-photographer-captured-joy-among-holocaust-survivors-this-hanukkah","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=898128","title":{"rendered":"In Brooklyn, One Photographer Captured Joy Among Holocaust Survivors This Hanukkah"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
Culture<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

In Brooklyn, One Photographer Captured Joy Among Holocaust Survivors This Hanukkah<\/h1>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
By <\/span>Liana Satenstein<\/span><\/span><\/span>Photographer <\/span>Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

\n
\n
<\/p>\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Photographer Mayan Toledano and Holocaust survivor Sabina Green. Toledano has been visiting Holocaust survivors and delivering food to their homes in Brooklyn for over two years. \u201cI grew up in a Moroccan Jewish religious home. We keep Shabbat and holidays, so the customs were obvious to me, but I don\u2019t think I ever paid attention to the importance of passing them on or even keeping them in my own house as an adult before meeting with the survivors weekly,\u201d she says.\u00a0<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/header>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

Every Friday, Mayan Toledano drives her silver Volvo convertible\u2014decorated with a dancing Elvis hanging from the rearview mirror and a pink cowboy propped on the dashboard\u2014to deep corners of Brooklyn like Sheepshead Bay and Brighton Beach to deliver food to food-insecure Holocaust survivors. These survivors are members of\u00a0Connect2, a program created by the Jewish Community Council of Greater Coney Island. This time, Toledano will celebrate Hanukkah and light a menorah with the survivors. \u201cI now have a lot of grandparents in the city,\u201d says Toledano, who moved to New York more than 10 years ago. \u201cOtherwise, I don\u2019t have family here at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Unlike the Jewish holidays that are religiously mandated, including Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, Hanukkah does not show up in the Torah. Yet this year, as antisemitism is on the rise in a very public way, the holiday feels more important than ever. Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of light and good defeating evil. The story goes like this: In Babylonian times, the Maccabees, Jewish rebel warriors, fought against the Greek king Antiochus who desecrated the holy temple of the Jews. The Maccabees won, reclaimed the temple in Jerusalem, and had to rededicate the temple by lighting a menorah. But they only had enough oil to light it for one day. Miraculously, that oil burned for eight, hence the eight days of Hanukkah. It\u2019s a holiday that hinges on faith and ultimately symbolizes how light can overcome darkness.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"In<\/span><\/div>\n
Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

Toledano started to visit these survivors during the pandemic, when many of the elderly were isolated from friends and family. One-third of the remaining Holocaust survivors in the United States live below the poverty line, and there are currently some 20,000 survivors in New York City. \u201cI started visiting because I suddenly had a lot of time. Usually I travel all the time for work, but being in New York, I realized what they really appreciate and need is the company and presence in their house,\u201d says Toledano. The photographer began to have Shabbat dinners or spend her afternoons with them.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/p>\n

Toledano lighting Shabbat candles with Bella Chernovetz.<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

While there is a cheerful feeling in many of these homes, ornamented with streamers, plants, and Judaica, each survivor\u2019s past holds a similar story. Throughout Eastern Europe, entire families were exterminated during World War II. Every survivor we spoke to has a sibling, parent, or relative who was murdered. Many were gassed, shot, bayoneted, worked to death, or buried alive. The glaring statistic\u20146 million Jews killed\u2014is easy to remember, although plenty of people, including well-known and everyday citizens, deny that figure.<\/p>\n

Each of these survivors\u2019 homes is decorated with endless photographs of their family. Each wall and surface is decked with beaming images of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, as well as weddings and graduations. Here, no accomplishment goes unnoticed, no birthday falls by the wayside, and every event is documented. Only rarely will these survivors\u2014many in their 90s and some over 100\u2014have photos of themselves, their parents, or their siblings from their former lives in Eastern Europe, which were abandoned or destroyed as a by-product of wide-scale mass murder. \u201cThey re-created life after seeing the horrors of the world and losing everyone,\u201d says Toledano. \u201cNow their biggest pride is having a family. And the bigger it is, the more proud they are.\u201d<\/p>\n

Toledano grew up in a religious Moroccan Jewish family; they celebrated Shabbat and kept kosher in the home, but her work with survivors reignited her love for those traditions after years of not living at home. \u201cMy volunteer work with the survivors wasn\u2019t a response to the current overwhelming spike of prejudice and erasure, and the distortion of our history, but hearing their stories and advice has guided me through this time,\u201d she says. \u201cIt taught me a lot about my responsibility as a member of my community. I am now able to give voice to their narrative, their individual humanity and beauty, beyond the gravity of the war. For any community, learning from our elders is the foundation of us building a better and more secure future.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

In the lead-up to Hanukkah, I visited several of Toledano\u2019s friends to hear their stories.<\/p>\n

Sabina Green<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Green<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Green was considered the messenger of her family. At one point, she heard of murders in the neighboring town in Poland where her aunt, uncle, and cousins lived. When she reached the home, she discovered her aunt and cousins who were all murdered. Her uncle was still barely alive and told Green that he hoped G-d would help her survive. Today, here is Green at her Brooklyn home on the third night of Hanukkah.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Sabina Green, 100, was the first survivor whom Toledano met, in July 2020. \u201cShe was sitting outside, and she was singing me a song in Yiddish and was super cheerful. I remember I brought her flowers, and she was so happy,\u201d says Toledano. \u201cWhile I was talking to her, I knew I was going to see this woman for a long time. This was not a onetime visit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Green was born in Ulanow, Poland, with the Yiddish name Shaindl Low. She had three siblings\u2014a sister and two brothers\u2014and was the second oldest. At one point, she pulls out a black-and-white photo of 25 girls from her Hebrew school, Beis Yaakov, back in Poland that she had sent to a friend before the war: One by one, she counts how many were killed during the Holocaust. Only three people survived: herself, a friend, and another classmate. Her sister, also pictured, was killed.<\/p>\n

At 18, she falsified documents to flee Poland, but her brother, sister, and mother were unable to escape and stayed behind. She later found out that they had hired a Polish man to take them to a town that was believed to be safe. The man took their money and belongings but brought Green\u2019s family to the Gestapo and they were murdered.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"\u201cMy<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mother remembered about every poor parent in town, and Friday at noon, she baked challah and gave it to the poor people. Two challahs for each one,\u201d says Green.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

At the time, Green\u2019s brother had set her up with a man named Bernard who was 11 years her senior in order to help her escape to Stryj, which is now in Ukraine. There they became husband and wife and she pretended to be Protestant. While living in Ukraine during the war, Green never cut her hair; her husband had advised her that it would be dangerous. \u201cHe said, \u2018The barber works too closely to you and will recognize who you are.\u2019\u201d One morning, after buying milk, she feared that she would be discovered: \u201cEveryone spoke Ukrainian. I asked for milk in Ukrainian. The woman looked at me and said, \u2018You speak like a Jew.\u2019 I never opened my mouth in Ukrainian [again].\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

After the war, Green encountered Jews who no longer wanted to be Jewish. \u201cThey said to me, \u2018When G-d could wipe off all my family, I don\u2019t want to be Jewish anymore,\u201d she says. But Green, who had two children in Poland after the war, finally arrived in New York in 1960, where she began a new life with her husband and went on to have additional children. \u201cI tried to hold my corner [for Jewish values],\u201d says Green, and she has been successful: To this day, she still lights the menorah.<\/p>\n

Toby Levy<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"\u201cMy<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father said, \u2018G-d will not destroy everyone. There is a fire burning for the Jews now. But some will survive, so they can tell the world.\u2019 That\u2019s what he told me. When I used to cry, and I used to say, \u2018Why?\u2019 He would say to me, \u2018I don\u2019t have the answer, but if we make it, you\u2019re going to grow up, you\u2019re going to go to school, and you\u2019re going to find out why, and you going to tell the world. Maybe then we\u2019ll know.\u2019 When I made it, I told the world, but I still don\u2019t know why.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Toby Levy, 89, talks to Toledano and me as if we have been friends forever. There is no one who wants to experience the world more than Levy. Back in January of 2021, she wrote an article for\u00a0The New York Times<\/em> about grappling with the isolation of COVID-19 and how she yearned to break free from the confines of the pandemic.<\/p>\n

Levy was born in\u00a0Khodoriv, in the Lviv district of western\u00a0Ukraine, in 1933. Her family was religious, and her father owned a textile shop. When they felt the threat of the Nazi invasion (Levy\u2019s grandfather was shot in their kitchen), they found a trusted Ukrainian woman, Stefania Struk, who agreed to hide Levy\u2019s remaining family, including her parents and sister; her uncle, aunt, and their two children; and her grandmother. For two years, the family of nine would sleep and eat in the corner of a hayloft in the back of Struk\u2019s house. Struk did not share the secret with her children or accept any payment. (Struk\u2019s husband had been sent to the Russian army.) \u201cI always say that [Stefania] was my angel that watched over me,\u201d says Levy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/p>\n

Levy lights candles for Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest that occurs every Friday night and lasts until sundown on Saturday.<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

The family survived on potatoes and bread that Struk would bring. At one point, they were discovered by Stefania\u2019s son,\u00a0Tadeusz,\u00a0who helped to build a larger space for them in the hayloft. \u201cWe didn\u2019t have to squeeze [anymore]. We each could turn at night,\u201d Levy says. \u201cHe cut out the panel in the wall for us children so we could look out and see the world. That\u2019s what I used to see the whole day\u2014the children playing games. The minute I got out, I tried to imitate the games that I watched the kids play.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

In the town of 5,000 where Levy hid, she recalls that three Ukrainian families hid Jews. \u201cWe would not have made it another year,\u201d Levy says. \u201cWe would have died from starvation or someone would have found us.\u201d Levy considers her survival a miracle. In 1949, she moved to America and immediately enrolled in school. \u201cI was 16 when I came here. I knew enough to go into fourth grade, but I couldn\u2019t speak English. So I went to night school, and they put me in first grade,\u201d she says. \u201cI said, \u2018That\u2019s okay with me. Just give me a bigger chair.\u2019\u201d Eventually, Levy got married and got a job as a bookkeeper.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"\u201cHiding<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

\u201c[Hiding in a barn] doesn\u2019t bother me. What bothers me is the outside world\u2014they would\u2019ve found me. It was so easy to find me. They didn\u2019t<\/em> find me. That, to me, is the miracle,\u201d says Levy, who hid for two years with nine of her family members in Poland. \u201cThat I didn\u2019t go out [of the barn] is not a big deal\u2014you can do it\u2014but for two years to sit and nobody finds you? That is a miracle.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Years later, after the war, Levy visited Ukraine and met a descendant of Struk\u2019s. \u201cI said, \u2018I will always remember you and send you money on one condition: that you tell your children what your great-grandmother did during the Second World War. She said, \u2018I will. Okay. That\u2019s a deal.\u2019\u201d Stefania\u2019s and Tadeusz\u2019s names are in the database of\u00a0Yad Vashem\u2019s The Righteous Among the Nations. To this day, Levy has kept her promise and continues to send money to Struk\u2019s great-granddaughter, who now resides in Spain.<\/p>\n

Levy still lights candles for Hanukkah and has always lit Shabbat candles every Friday night. She made Toledano and me Shabbat dinner and told us a story of marking Passover while in hiding. Struk would bring the family bread, but her father refused to eat it during the days when Jews do not traditionally eat leavened bread.\u00a0\u201cIn hiding, he showed me who he is,\u201d Levy says. \u201cMy father had no conflicts with faith.\u201d For Levy, the world remains boundless, and her thirst for faith\u2014as well as for life\u2014is still strong.<\/p>\n

Hymie Steinmetz<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Steinmetz<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Steinmetz commemorates the fourth night of Hanukkah at home.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Hymie Steinmetz, 96, hails from a part of Romania that later became Hungary. The Nazis came to his town on the last day of Passover in 1944, when Steinmetz was 18. He grew up with five sisters and one brother in a religious home and had\u00a0peyos<\/em>, the sidelocks that religious Jewish men wear. His father was a rabbi and owned a supermarket.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

At one point, the Nazis moved into his home, leaving Steinmetz and his family confined to one room. Eventually, Steinmetz was made to go to seven different concentration camps, including Bergen-Belsen and Auschwitz. There, his parents were immediately killed in the gas chambers. During his time in the camps, Steinmetz came down with typhus and was sent on a death march in the snow toward the end of the war.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/p>\n

\u201cMentally, I had emunah<\/em> [faith],\u201d<\/em> says Steinmetz.<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

When Steinmetz came to America after spending a year and a half in a displaced persons camp in Sweden, he went to school. He worked weekends checking coats at events and waited tables in the summer. He later entered the insurance business and became the general manager of the largest insurance company in the United States.<\/p>\n

When asked how he survived the war, Steinmetz replies, \u201cI had\u00a0emunah<\/em>\u00a0[faith].\u201d He adds, \u201cI was brought up religious and I said, \u2018If I ever get liberated, I will speak to people. I will tell them what happened.\u2019 I had\u00a0emunah<\/em> until the last minute. I never gave that up.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Steinmetz<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Steinmetz wearing his tallis<\/em>, a prayer shawl.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
Dolly Rabinovich<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Rabinovich<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Rabinovich at home. \u201cI am very joyful to see the family members happy and caring for one another,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

After two years of volunteering, Toledano first visited Rabinovich, 93, this past summer. \u201cShe welcomed me in right away, and with teary eyes said, \u2018You young people are doing great\u00a0mitzvahs.\u2019<\/em> I try to bring lightness and cheerfulness to the home, but\u00a0Dolly quickly started telling me about the war and showed me the number on her arm,\u201d Toledano says.<\/p>\n

Rabinovich was born in what is now Berehove, Ukraine (formerly part of Czechoslovakia). Her idyllic childhood was cut short when the Nazis invaded, seized local businesses and properties, and sent the Jewish population to a ghetto. Even as a child, Rabinovich volunteered in the ghetto, assisting a nurse and caring for children and infants. At the end of May in 1944, Rabinovich and her family were sent to Auschwitz. Her father, who carried\u00a0tefillin<\/em>\u00a0and a prayer shawl, was immediately sent to the gas chambers. There were two lines: Rabinovich and her mother were sent to the left and her sisters to the right. By chance, in a moment that Rabinovich considers a miracle, her mother told her to join her sisters. She never saw her mother again.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"\u201cAt<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

\u201cAt one point she was a number in the camp, but now she is the strong and beautiful Dolly Rabinovich,\u201d says Toledano.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n

Rabinovich is perpetually optimistic and keeps her faith, crediting it with saving her life. \u201cI come from a very happy, religious home. Mommy and Daddy always said, \u2018Children, you will always be happy and healthy. Just believe in G-d.\u2019 It gave us a lot of courage.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
\"Rabinovich<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Rabinovich with her mother\u2019s candlesticks that she buried before the war and then retrieved afterward.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n

Sol Goldberg<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Goldberg<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Goldberg at home in Sheepshead Bay.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Sol Goldberg, 98, of Sheepshead Bay, was born to a Hasidic family in Zdu\u0144ska Wola, Poland, an hour west of Lodz. Goldberg remembers the Nazis arriving in Poland when he was 14, in 1939. He was soon sent to the Jewish ghetto, where the synagogue was immediately destroyed. \u201cThey came with big hammers. They had the Torah, and they burned it,\u201d he says. Goldberg describes the terrifying dystopia of the ghetto: In his family, 16 people were confined to two rooms. At times, he would have to wait in line for hours for bread in the winter, only to return with nothing. Soldiers and neighbors could enter the home as they pleased, taking food or raping women. Authorities also ordered all the men to cut off their beards, defying religious customs. Goldberg remembers one man who did not want to. \u201cThey caught a guy who didn\u2019t want to shave,\u201d says Goldberg. \u201cSo, you know how the soldiers have the bayonet? [One] took off the beard with the skin. Could you imagine? With the skin<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Goldberg<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Goldberg celebrates Hanukkah with his grandfather\u2019s menorah. During WWII, the Goldberg family buried it in their ghetto, where prayer and worship was forbidden. Years later, at the end of the war, Sol dug it back up.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

There were other unfathomable horrors that Goldberg experienced in the ghetto, but one thing he notes is that the local authorities tried to prevent people from gathering to pray. So they\u2019d meet in secret; the women would be lookouts so that the men could form a group of 10\u2014a\u00a0minyan<\/em>\u2014to worship. Celebrating Hanukkah was also out of the question and had to be done secretly. \u201cBut many of us were from [religious homes], so we shut the windows and just for an hour, we had the candles,\u201d he says. At one point, Goldberg and his family took the menorah and buried it in the ghetto. \u201cIt was my grandfather\u2019s,\u201d he says. After the war, he dug it back up, and that\u2019s the one that he still lights today, at his home in Brooklyn. It is the only thing he has from Poland. \u201cWe risked our lives for G-d,\u201d says Goldberg, adding, \u201cIf we lost our Judaism, our faith, our traditions, then the Nazis would have won the war.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Goldberg<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Goldberg wearing a yarmulke.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n

\n
\"The<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

The menorah that Goldberg still uses.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
Zahava Sz\u00e1sz Stessel<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Stessel<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Stessel at home in Brooklyn. A survivor of Auschwitz, she went on to live in America and author two books.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Zahava Sz\u00e1sz Stessel, 92, was born in 1930 in Aba\u00fajsz\u00e1nt\u00f3, Hungary, which once had a vibrant Jewish community. In 1938, anti-Jewish laws were implemented across the country, which affected her family\u2019s business, a store for\u00a0clothes, shoes, and books. A few years later, when Stessel was 14, she and her family were sent to Auschwitz.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

There\u2019s a wholesome joy in Stessel\u2019s Brooklyn home, which is drenched with sunlight from a window lined with plants, some of them plastic. The metal door to her kitchen is decorated with colorful beads and streams. In the corner, there is a sewing machine covered with a pretty embroidered cloth. \u201cThere is a warmth here,\u201d says Toledano. \u201cYou have such a pretty home.\u201d There\u2019s the feeling that Stessel maintains the optimism of her cutoff childhood with her here.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"Stessels<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Stessel\u2019s living room is decorated with family photos and bright bouquets.<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Like many survivors, Stessel considers the fact that she is here a miracle. When she was taken to the concentration camps, she pretended that she was older in order to be considered fit for work. At one point, the Nazis believed that she and her sister were twins, which saved them from death. \u201cThe Germans were interested in twins,\u201d she says, referencing the brutal practices of Josef Mengele, the SS officer and physician who often did tests on twins. Stessel and her sister survived, while her parents and grandparents were killed upon arrival.<\/p>\n

When they were liberated on a death march en route to another camp, Stessel traveled from Poland to visit her family\u2019s former home, Hungary. \u201cWe said, \u2018America? We want to go home,\u2019\u201d Stessel recalls. \u201c\u2018Home is much warmer. In America, we don\u2019t know anybody.\u2019\u201d When they returned, however, another family had moved into their house.<\/p>\n

Eventually, Stessel settled in America, learned English, attended school, and became a librarian. She has two children and two grandchildren. Stessel has written two books\u2014Wine and Thorns in Tokay Valley: Jewish Life in Hungary<\/em>, which explores life in Hungary under anti-Jewish laws, and\u00a0Snow Flowers: Hungarian Jewish Women in an Airplane Factory, Markkleeberg, Germany,<\/em>\u00a0in which she remembers her time doing slave labor to produce airplane parts for the SS.\u00a0\u201cYou never lost your faith,\u201d she says. \u201cYou have hope and it stays with you. You have hope you\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Julius Rauch<\/div>\n
\n
\"Rauch<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n

Rauch at home. \u201cMy wife was full of life,\u201d he says of the late Rose Rauch, who passed in September. \u201cAll of the successes are because of her.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/span>Photo: Mayan Toledano<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Julius Rauch, 93, was born in Borszczow, Poland (now Ukraine), in 1931. In 1939, the area was occupied by the Russians. His father, a forester, owned guns and artillery that were useful to the Russian army. Because of that, they were sent to Siberia to live, and although conditions were harsh, they survived the war. Other Jewish families in Borszczow were murdered. \u201cInadvertently, we were very lucky that we were taken to Siberia, because if we would\u2019ve been in Poland, I wouldn\u2019t be sitting here,\u201d says Rauch.<\/p>\n

Rauch later settled in America. He didn\u2019t know English but learned it while taking a job manufacturing televisions and radios. (He worked next to a Polish American man who tutored him.) Rauch married in 1959; his wife, Rose, died in September. On his table there is a homemade card he made for her to celebrate her life.<\/p>\n

Rauch takes pride in having sent his children to religious schools. \u201cWhen my son went to the law school at the University of Pennsylvania, I called him about two, three weeks later and I said, \u2018Is law school hard?\u2019 He said, \u2018Dad, I learned this at Yeshiva before I got here!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n

Source URL: https:\/\/www.vogue.com\/article\/holocaust-survivor-stories-mayan-toledano<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Culture In Brooklyn, One Photographer Captured Joy Among Holocaust Survivors This Hanukkah By Liana SatensteinPhotographer Mayan Toledano December 24, 2022 Photographer Mayan Toledano and Holocaust survivor Sabina Green. Toledano has been visiting Holocaust survivors and delivering food to their homes in Brooklyn for over two years. \u201cI grew up in a Moroccan Jewish religious home. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":898129,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[50],"class_list":["post-898128","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-politics","tag-vogue-com"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/898128","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=898128"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/898128\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/898129"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=898128"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=898128"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=898128"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}