Tom Finneran: Just in Time for Christmas, Part One

Tom Finneran, GoLocalProv MINDSETTER™

Tom Finneran: Just in Time for Christmas, Part One

Immigrants arriving at New York's Ellis Island in search of the American dream.
Her name was Fay. Fay was a Jew, born in 1919. Fay passed away earlier this year but she lives on in my mind. She will be there forever.

Fay was born in Eastern Europe, specifically Poland. She spoke six languages—German, Polish, Russian, Yiddish, Lithuanian, and English. That first language I mentioned was very important for you see, Fay not only had a name and a family, but she had a number too. If that doesn’t sound ominous to you, you need a history lesson, for to live in Eastern Europe as a Jew during the 1930s and 1940s was not a happy thing. There were no childhood idylls for Fay. Rather, there were the numbers given out, not only Fay’s number, but the numbers given to her fellow residents at Treblinka, one of many German concentration camps. Speaking and understanding German helped her survive the terror. Barely. Millions did not.

It is almost incomprehensible that such a savage hate as Hitler’s can dwell in the human heart—a hatred so utterly irrational, so rancid, and so despotically cruel that most of us would shrink away at the sight and sound of wild animals being so viciously treated. Such was the hatred of Hitler and his criminal gang for the Jews of Europe during the unforgivable nine years of the Thousand Year Reich. Also incomprehensible is the fact that the German people--- a gifted, learned, literate, tremendously talented race--- allowed the lunacy of Hitler’s regime to occur, a lunacy which destroyed the lives and souls of millions of German families as well.

GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLAST

The audacity of hope

Most incomprehensible of all was Fay’s spry step onto the shores of America. She arrived here on July 7, 1949 with her husband, and her son. She and her husband each had a small battered suitcase and their son, all of four years old, carried a little boy’s bag. There was no trust fund. There was no rich and generous uncle. After Treblinka and the harrowing years of her early life, spry should not have been part of Fay’s repertoire. But it was…………

Fay had an unshakeable belief that America would be a dream come true for her young family. Talk about the audacity of hope! Here she would find education for her children, opportunities for work for herself and her husband, and an acceptance of her faith and her God. Yes, her life had been hard, very hard. Cruelty had been the common denominator. Virtually all of her family members had been killed---either worked or starved to death or simply rounded up and shot.

Up until then, perhaps the happiest day of her life had been the day she was liberated by young American soldiers. That happened in March or April of 1945, followed by the end of the war in May. Marriage to her beloved husband, whom she had met at Treblinka, followed soon as did life in a “displaced persons camp” in Germany.

Then came a son and then came salvation. A lone relative, long a resident of Canada, sponsored Fay and her family to come to North America, specifically to Canada, by way of Ellis Island. Fate intervened at the foot of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor when an outbreak of German measles raced through the ship, putting it into medical quarantine for almost two weeks and disrupting the continuing voyage to Canada. The boat was cleared of all passengers and Fay and her family entered America.

They had no money, spoke no English, had no job, had no roof over their heads, and Fay was once again pregnant with another son whom she would lose at childbirth. Welcome to America Fay. You’ll love it here. And she did………………………………..

The American dream

A social service agency found them a fifth-floor walkup with one small room and a shared toilet at the end of a long common hallway. Her husband found work as a butcher at a meat-packing plant and within months a relative of her husband brought them up to Brighton. Their American dream had begun.

Success to Fay took many forms---her husband’s hard and honorable work as a meat-cutter, the pride she took in her modest home, the success of her children and her children’s children, her celebration of her faith, her appreciation of America’s freedoms, all of these were special to Fay. I have to think that the unspeakable sadness and cruelty of her early life made her American experiences more joyous with each year.

I know Fay’s son, that little four year old boy who walked wide-eyed off a boat in New York City in July of 1949. He’s a mensch, kind, generous, loving, and gifted, truly of Fay Lewin’s flesh and blood. He gave a eulogy in honor of his Mom earlier this year that was a eulogy for the ages. How appropriate that such a eulogy was given for such a woman—Fay Lewin, a woman of America, a woman of the world, a woman for the ages.


30 Ways to Give This Holiday Season

Enjoy this post? Share it with others.