In Memory of My Mother - Words Rather Than Silence

In Memory of My Mother –Words Rather Than Silence by Debra H. Goldstein

A few years ago, a fellow writer asked me why many of my short stories, blogs and one of my books had Jewish characters or Jewish themes. Before I could answer, she confided that she was Jewish, too, but never mentioned that fact in any of her writings. I asked her “Why?” and she replied she was afraid it might narrow her readership. My immediate response was that I never thought of that in terms of my works or any of the writings I’ve read by people of race, culture, ethnicity, religion or sexual preference different than my own. In fact, my reading and writing is deliberately diverse.

She disagreed with me. I pitied her narrowmindedness and the wealth of things she was missing. I also was disappointed by her silence.

My mother was a Holocaust survivor. She came to the United States with her nine-year-old brother when she was ten. Other than two uncles who lived in America, but weren’t particularly welcoming to the two children, her entire extended family was killed in the camps. Her parents, educated wealthy members of Vienna society, never thought Hitler’s rhetoric would reach them. My grandfather had medical, dental and rabbinical degrees although he practiced dentistry; they had a box at the Opera House; and they owned numerous apartments. By the time my grandparents realized they weren’t immune, they were lucky to get their children out of Austria.

For two non-English speaking children, adjustment was difficult, but they both learned English, did well in school, and grew up to be responsible adults. They also taught their children to be tolerant and to never be silent. They encouraged their children to be anything they wanted, but to remember the importance of honesty, caring, and being open-minded.

A few weeks ago, a man filled with hatred and anti-Semitism, murdered Jews in cold blood at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. During the past few years, there have been murders in mosques, churches, bars, and on the street simply because of hatred and animosity to other people’s religion, race, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or cultural beliefs. We can think these things are wrong, but if we stay silent in the face of these terrible acts and the language that incites them, I believe we are guilty, too.

My mother died four years ago on November 13. In her memory, I cannot be silent. Can you?