The Warsaw Ghetto
The view from our hotel room in Warsaw, Poland overlooks some of the remaining pieces of the brick walls from the Warsaw ghetto. As I grow closer to the end than to the beginning of my life, I have become more curious about where I have come from than where I am going. I don’t know if it is a universal phenomenon, but the feeling has been compelling for me.
As a second-generation American Jew I know that I should be more aware of where my family came from. Sadly, when I had the chance to talk to living relatives and hear their history, I never asked questions. It turns out that my cousins were equally as ignorant, and now the generation that lived our history have all passed on.


