Paper Gauze Ballerina: Memoir of a Holocaust Survivor

All Rights Reserved © 1998, 2001 by Sophie Miklos

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Originally published by Sophie Miklos

ISBN: 0-595-15122-1

ISBN: 978-1-4759-1956-1 (ebook)

Contents

Dedication

The Lonely Branch

PROLOGUE

Recollections of Anti-Semitism

MY EARLIEST RECOLLECTION

MY TEEN YEARS

Paper Gauze Ballerina

INTRODUCTION

THE GHETTO

THE CONCENTRATION CAMP

THE MARCH

Starting Over

THE FIRST SIX MONTHS

LIVING WITH FRIENDS

FINISHING HIGH SCHOOL

RETURNING HOME

MY SISTER

COMING TO AMERICA

ELLIS ISLAND

LIVING IN AMERICA THE EARLY YEARS: 1949-1953

BECOMING A MOTHER

STARTING TO GROW UP

ENDING THE WAR

TAKING CHARGE

AT PEACE

A Need To Write

WHY ME?

THE AFTERMATH OF THE HOLOCAUST

MY REFLECTION ON THE WASHINGTON HOLOCAUST MUSEUM OPENING

WHAT I BELIEVE IN

I SMILE AGAIN

Teaching About The Holocaust

Dedication

To my parents, Ilona and Alex Weisz, and to Rose and Adolph Mitelman, all of whom perished during the Holocaust; and, to my sister, Agnes Weisz Borla.

My Warmest Thanks To

My daughter, llene Miklos Schwartz, and my friend, Evelyn Parman Gruber, for lending a helping hand.

The Lonely Branch

I am feeling like a tree which was savagely cut down, By the German assassins and not by an act of God. The roots are almost gone, only one branch is alive, This tree for sure was soon doomed to die. It’s up to this lone branch to help the tree going, A giant task for a tiny twig to realize it’s growing. It withers and shakes reaching out for help, But it stands all alone with no one to care. By a miracle, the lonely branch springs back to life, When a small shoot reappears by its tender side. The two of them find strength through their love, And before one’s very eyes, leaves begin to sprout. And it grows and it grows and develops into a trunk, And with another branch gives birth to a bunch. The roots are spreading now, steady and strong, And even the birds moved back to sing their song. My family tree was cut down just like that, And I was left alone there as a lonely branch. But with the support of my children by my side, Against all odds my family tree continues to thrive …

-Sophie Miklos

PROLOGUE

I often wonder why our painful memories stay with us much longer than our happy ones and affect our lives forever. They seem to come to my mind more readily than the wonderfully childish, innocent, happy, carefree times.

I hope that I don’t have a pessimistic streak in me that likes to dwell only on the negatives. Or could it be that the good times are taken for granted? But how are we supposed to know we are happy if we don’t have contrasting feelings of unhappiness?

I’ll try to recall some of my most joyful memories: like my first playmate, my first pet, my first interest in the opposite sex, the first time a boy asked me to dance. I remember my favorite black velvet dress with a white lace collar, my first high-heeled shoes and silk stockings, and I still see my image in the mirror as I glanced approvingly at myself and how important and confident it made me feel. I certainly could never forget my birthdays. My mother made cookies and served them with Floating Island. We all looked forward with such anticipation to savoring the vanilla-flavored concoction. It made me feel very special and loved. I still can see the beautiful resort town where our family spent many pleasant summer vacations. My first love is forever embedded in my memory. He was dark, tall, handsome, and very bright. He perished in the concentration camp at the age of 19 and left me with a broken heart. I recall with pride my dancing and athletic achievements, the arguments with my sister, Agnes, and her grief when her fiancé didn’t return from the labor camp. I still can visualize my mother’s watchful eyes as she stayed with my sister for weeks afterward to

prevent her from committing suicide.

All these experiences, good and bad, made me the person I am today. Because all those negative and positive influences shaped my personality, for better or worse.

Now that I am approaching the last phase of my life, I have worked out most of my problems, and I accept life and myself as well as a human being can. At the same time, I am in complete acceptance of others, too, and view them as I view myself.

We are only temporary visitors on this planet and, as such, we have to be gracious to our host, which is the Universe, with all the splendors and perils it encompasses.

Today, if I look back on my life, it seems like a replay of an old movie. It doesn’t strike me as quite so interesting any more. It doesn’t bring out the same emotions-pain or joy-as before.

Whoever coined the phrase, Life is not a dress rehearsal, knew exactly what he or she was talking about, as life is a one-time-only production played by a privileged few.

The words we write today will be here when we are long gone, and they represent our efforts towards achieving immortality. It seems insignificant now, but I hope whoever reads my scribbles in the future will be influenced, hopefully, for the better. If that happens, my efforts here will not be in vain.

Recollections of Anti-Semitism

MY EARLIEST RECOLLECTION

OF ANTI-SEMITISM

It was a beautiful spring day. The flowers had just started opening. The tulips were getting too heavy for the stems to hold them upright, so they just flopped all over the ground. It gave the impression of a painter going crazy with his paint brushes. The myriad of colors from the neighboring plants accentuated the effect and gave a nice finish to the whole picture. The falling petals from the flowering trees carpeted the ground and the rays of the sun made it look like a kaleidoscope. Even at a young age, I appreciated the beauty of nature more than my peers. There was not one cloud in the sky as I eagerly looked forward to an outing planned by our school teacher for the day.

About ten excited, rosy-cheeked children were waiting for their designated seats. One by one we climbed into the carriage, which was to be pulled by two well-fed horses. We had a male teacher who was so strict that, even if you looked in the wrong direction, he could be aroused sufficiently to inflict various pre-designed punishments.

Everything went right this time and it seemed that even HE was in a good mood. Everyone was accounted for and the order was given to the driver to proceed.

We were singing all the way and enjoying the beautiful weather. After the long winter months, it was a real treat to shed the heavy sweaters and hats and enjoy the gentle breezes caressing our young bodies. Even the horses were pulling briskly and thumping evenly on the uneven pavement. Half of the road was covered with mud, but that, too, was permeated by the warmth and smell of spring, and the horses seemed to know that the fresh taste

of hay was just a few weeks away.

Our laughter and singing could be heard for miles as we serenaded the arrival of spring. We felt carefree, happy to be young and alive and witness such a perfect day. This was the mood for all the participants, except for me. It suddenly came to a halt.

We had barely arrived at our destination when one of the children started to dirty Jew me. Slowly all the others joined in, and the joyful sounds were transformed at once to songs of hate which echoed all across the bordering towns. Suddenly,