Ilana Lindenblatt

I woke up from that Auschwitz dream and understood that not telling this story has been a failure, but not a bigger one than trying to tell it. There is no version of this story that can honestly interrogate what it needs to here in 2025. And I'm at the end now, but it doesn't feel complete. It feels like a betrayal of everything and everyone.

I woke up from that Auschwitz dream and understood that not telling this story has been a failure, but not a bigger one than trying to tell it. There is no version of this story that can honestly interrogate what it needs to here in 2025. And I'm at the end now, but it doesn't feel complete. It feels like a betrayal of everything and everyone.

The last speaker finished, and I turned back to Eugene Ginter. So what happened? I asked him urgently, even though I was so, so, so afraid of the answer. Was it your mother downstairs? His mother, he explained, had been liberated from a camp in Czechoslovakia. She'd been the youngest of nine from such a loving family, and each of her siblings had been murdered.

The last speaker finished, and I turned back to Eugene Ginter. So what happened? I asked him urgently, even though I was so, so, so afraid of the answer. Was it your mother downstairs? His mother, he explained, had been liberated from a camp in Czechoslovakia. She'd been the youngest of nine from such a loving family, and each of her siblings had been murdered.

She was at Brunlitz and had been on Schindler's List. I can see her name on the list if I want. And there she was, suffering from extreme melancholia because her siblings were gone and her husband and child were God knows where. And someone told her that they saw her son in Krakow. And she took off like a shot, he said, walking, hitchhiking, not stopping to eat until she arrived at Krakow.

She was at Brunlitz and had been on Schindler's List. I can see her name on the list if I want. And there she was, suffering from extreme melancholia because her siblings were gone and her husband and child were God knows where. And someone told her that they saw her son in Krakow. And she took off like a shot, he said, walking, hitchhiking, not stopping to eat until she arrived at Krakow.

She looked up and she saw him. She saw her Eugene right there on the top floor, his legs hanging out the window. And she didn't say his name because she didn't want him to accidentally jump and hurt himself. So she sent a boy upstairs to tell him that his mother was there.

She looked up and she saw him. She saw her Eugene right there on the top floor, his legs hanging out the window. And she didn't say his name because she didn't want him to accidentally jump and hurt himself. So she sent a boy upstairs to tell him that his mother was there.

And Eugene said to the boy, get lost, because it had happened a few times that someone was looking for a redheaded boy and said his mother was downstairs and he would get there and it was someone else's mother. And you can just imagine how those mothers reacted when they saw that Eugene wasn't their son. But this time it was different. This time it was her.

And Eugene said to the boy, get lost, because it had happened a few times that someone was looking for a redheaded boy and said his mother was downstairs and he would get there and it was someone else's mother. And you can just imagine how those mothers reacted when they saw that Eugene wasn't their son. But this time it was different. This time it was her.

He came downstairs and they were reunited. They were reunited. Can you imagine it? Can you imagine the moment? And he has the nicest face and the sweetest way about him.

He came downstairs and they were reunited. They were reunited. Can you imagine it? Can you imagine the moment? And he has the nicest face and the sweetest way about him.

And before I can hear how he came to New York and settled in Riverdale, where he became an engineer, and then he retired and became an AP physics teacher, but also before he can finish telling me how the smell of hair singed on a stove takes him right back to the camps, we're interrupted again. Because a children's choir from the Hebrew public charter schools mounted the stage.

And before I can hear how he came to New York and settled in Riverdale, where he became an engineer, and then he retired and became an AP physics teacher, but also before he can finish telling me how the smell of hair singed on a stove takes him right back to the camps, we're interrupted again. Because a children's choir from the Hebrew public charter schools mounted the stage.

The children sang a Hebrew song, one I know well. I was once on a stage like that, singing to a group of Holocaust survivors, back when I was in third or fourth grade, that very same song. So were my children when they were that age. Listen, my brothers, goes its translation. I'm still alive. It continues on about hope and survival in the face of destruction.

The children sang a Hebrew song, one I know well. I was once on a stage like that, singing to a group of Holocaust survivors, back when I was in third or fourth grade, that very same song. So were my children when they were that age. Listen, my brothers, goes its translation. I'm still alive. It continues on about hope and survival in the face of destruction.

The chorus goes, alive, alive, alive, yes, I'm still alive. This is the song my grandfather sang yesterday to my father, and today I sing it too. God, that song gets me every time. Mr. Lindenblatt returned to Budapest in 2000. He tried to return in 1970, when he and Mrs. Lindenblatt visited Europe.

The chorus goes, alive, alive, alive, yes, I'm still alive. This is the song my grandfather sang yesterday to my father, and today I sing it too. God, that song gets me every time. Mr. Lindenblatt returned to Budapest in 2000. He tried to return in 1970, when he and Mrs. Lindenblatt visited Europe.

But the night before they went, his dreams were so bad that he woke up screaming, and she canceled the trip. But in 2000, he decided to go. Mr. Lindenblatt wore his yarmulke. A man passing by said to his companion in Hungarian, look at that dirty Jew. And Mr. Lindenblatt, tall and athletic, turned to him and he said, what did you just say? And the man cowered and said, I wasn't talking about you.

But the night before they went, his dreams were so bad that he woke up screaming, and she canceled the trip. But in 2000, he decided to go. Mr. Lindenblatt wore his yarmulke. A man passing by said to his companion in Hungarian, look at that dirty Jew. And Mr. Lindenblatt, tall and athletic, turned to him and he said, what did you just say? And the man cowered and said, I wasn't talking about you.