Nov 9, 2024
[See prior post for context.]
This morning, I finished packing up for our drive from Amsterdam to Bocholt. I was proud and pleased to once again wear my Am Yisrael Chai (people of Israel live) necklace. I had no concerns wearing it in the open, including a couple of hours at the Kröller Muller Museum on our way to Germany. I had gained some additional information from Dutch acquaintances, enough to learn that I could feel safe doing what I had planned for today while still being vigilant. That said, I kept my large Magen David (Shield of David) necklace in hiding under my shirt.
Once in Bocholt, we started our visit in this hometown of my father’s with the “Official Stern-Herzfeld Walking Tour of Bocholt.” If you haven’t read Chapter 52 of my book, suffice it to say this was the second such tour ever, and I am the only tour guide.
Some things looked different than for my inaugural tour 5 ½ years ago. For example, there was no longer any seating in the Imping (Röster in the book) coffee shop, where I had sat looking around wondering exactly where my family were fed breakfast that awful morning of 10 November 1938. Instead, we had to take our coffee to go. This time, the Stolpersteine we laid were not the original shiny brass, but were oxidized. But so much looked the same.
After the tour, we had dinner with a representative of the town. My two meat-eater kids had the traditional St. Martin’s meal of Gans (goose), Kartoffelklöss (potato dumpling, just like my Oma used to make), and red cabbage. Then we went to the site of the former synagogue for the annual Kristallnacht commemoration.
Now this is where it gets interesting.
The Bocholt mayor warmly greeted our family. Next, we were introduced to the mayor of nearby Aalten, Netherlands. He was there because of what happened in his own country the prior day. We found and hugged our friends Monika and Sonja, and I introduced the two Bocholters to each other.
At 7:30, we were ushered to the front row of the crowd. I’m guessing there were over 100 people. The students from Mariengymnasium performed. This is the school where I would present my father’s story two days later. Their first song was “Esah Enai” (I lift up my eyes), part of Psalm 121. They sang it in Hebrew. I immediately fished out my necklace-in-hiding and held it in my hands, fully aware of its significance. It is a replica of the brooch my father painted while he was in hiding. It contains the words “Tikvat Yisrael” (hope of Israel).
Next, Bocholt Mayor Thomas Kerkhoff spoke. Mayor Kerkhoff publicly acknowledged us by name and welcomed us on this 86th anniversary of the day the Stern-Herzfeld shop was destroyed. Some of the students read testimonies of survivors and of witnesses, including an eyewitness account related to our family’s store. We also heard about the few courageous souls who protected Jewish families on that night. And, we heard about the many individuals who simply stood by.
Mayor Kerkhoff turned to current news. He expressed concern about the heightened level of antisemitism here in Germany, and about the federal resolution called “Never Again is Now – Protecting, Preserving, and Strengthening Jewish Life in Germany.” (As with all things, when I read about this resolution, I see it’s, let’s say, complicated.)
The mayor went on to ask “But what does that mean for us here in Bocholt? … As democrats, it is our duty to resolutely oppose all antisemitism, racism, and other hatred in the here and now.” He goes on to express his hopes for a better future, words I found moving, but it is too much to add to this already long post.
Mayor Kerkhoff concluded: “Our thoughts and actions must continue into the future and we must keep standing up so that what happened … [in] 1938 … never happens again. This can and must be our contribution against xenophobia, hatred of minorities, and above all against antisemitism … ”
I am hopeful. I can only be hopeful. Tikvat Yisrael, as my father painted in the most dire of times.
But for now, I must get some sleep. In the morning, we will re-trace Escape Day (Chapters 18-20). We end with a dinner back in Bocholt to honor my father’s birthday. Guten nacht. Lailah tov. Good night.
Photo: My Tikvat Yisrael necklace, modeled after the brooch my father painted in hiding that is on the cover of my memoir.
