Yesterday I left my mommy clothes on the hanger I pieced together what I hoped was a presentable "work" outfit and in heels made my way into a conference room at Hanscom. I sat in the back so I could duck out a few minutes early so Ryan could get to a meeting.
Then he walked in reckless wiry white hair, suit and slacks covering his aging body.
I immediately feel in love, he shared his general experience with us as a Jewish Holocaust survivor his humor intermixed with a devastating story. He joked about the troubles in memory of the "golden years" made light of his time in the ghetto and even spoke of the woes of Auschwitz.
I cried like a baby as did many others in the room when he showed a picture of his identification tattoo from Auschwitz next to his grandsons license plate, his grandson had chosen his grandfathers identification number as his first license plate number.
I sobbed openly as he turned to his son and asked if he was a good fatherly figure, as he still all these years later questioned why 2 teenage boys took to him in the cattle car on the way to Auschwitz.
He openly questioned the choices made by others that either saved their lives or condemned them to be victims of mass murder. He still all these years later trying to process the details of the horrific experience.
It is for people like Mr. Krasa that I passionately pursue my education of these horrible events. I have always questioned my choice but not today. Today I understood these survivors are aging they need their voices to be heard in the future because they speak out against hate and genocide. I want to listen until I have heard each voice then when the time is right carry on the stories for them.
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