Reflections, experience, questions and imaginations on my Grandfather writing the books that the film 'Lies and Miracles' is based on. Though my Father has said there are inaccuracies, I'm posting it, and edit later.
Part 1 My Grandfather Dr Mayer Writing his books
The three large books that my Grandfather wrote are Introducing Myself, At The Lowest Level, and Out of the Whirlwind. He also wrote several essays and poetry books. In fact if you asked him he would tell you that he was a poet first. The first three books were what he had to write. He knew someday nobody would believe the mass insanity and cruelty of that experience both personal and at large. He didn't have to wait long - upon taking residence in the US at the end of the war, where the USSR were (briefly but still) our allies, most would not believe that the Soviets would do that, and wouldn't hear of anything negative said towards the USSR!
I imagine him riding on the train 3 hours to and from his work as a lab chemist. After a full day of work he would have dinner and work on these books. I believe he wrote them on the train. At night with a typewriter at a small desk the pages then saw many edits. The emotions he would experience and have to sometimes push through to keep typing to get that out, so that books would be finished and the story told - that others could rally and share, help those in similar situations, and most of all so that nothing of the sort happens again.
The books were to chronicle first Life in the Schdetle (growing up in his village), a culture he foresaw disappearing with industry and modernization - this described in the book Introducing Myself. In the second book At The Lowest Level (the one the film is based on) chronicles how my family came to be in the Siberian Labor Camp and finally in the third book, Out of the Whirlwind how they started anew here in US.
There on the train, going to and from work 3 hours each way, not only all the pain of the memories and thinking about all whom he (and everyone!) had lost - cycling through the mind like a neverending checklist who was safe and who’s whereabouts unknown? Whom had perished and for whom wondering how to find out? The matter of calling and writing all the friends or families in sorrow or joy. The coworkers friends family authors doctors cousins soldiers anyone you could think of what became of them? So many each thinking of things they said where they were, the last time having coffee or discussing work, and for each held close, a treasure of memories. Many prayers and some answered. Many prayers perhaps on the train, and certainly on Shabbat, in the morning and at night wrapping tefilin. At the doorposts of the houses and gates.
I imagine that he pushes simply to earn checks, continuing the blessing of work to provide for Mami my Grandmother and my father and Uncle, 3 hours each way - he who had studied in Vienna to become a Doctor, had invented water based paints when the entire field of 'Organic Chemistry' could fit into a small notebook.
He who having then opened and ran the largest paint manufacturing plant in the region, only to have it robbed. Now he must ride 3 hours each way to work as a lab technician. This train ride was voluntary, different in every way a train could be. Showing the conductor a ticket, windows that open and any seat to take...the train that took my family and so many strangers crammed in for weeks with only one window, some families together and some separated, the soldiers not telling anyone where they were going. That train took our family to Siberia to unimaginable cold bleak unforgiving terrain when other trains took Poles to other camps both hideous tragic and terrible. That was the story of second world war - the Soviets having taken control of the North of Poland took Polish citizens by trains to slave labor camps and the Germans took the citizens of Southern Poland by trains to it's camps.
These New York trains could be ridden if you chose - that is power. That is Freedom. Now freedom, the most important word. No words can describe or compare (may be called sweet freedom, glorious, and beautiful) and if you used every good word from every dictionary in every language it would still fall short to describe as here his family in new york in the United States is at last safe. Here they may nurture grow be a family be happy with so many ways to explain and describe it can't properly be expressed. On the train, sitting with so many plans and memories as heading to work (the toil and labor of work, the result of our banishment from Eden, as written in our book...though also sung in our tradition as a Blessing), though on the 7th day we rest.
Some having returned adopted other ways, rejecting any part of their past (religious or otherwise) as they sought above all to blend in! Not my Grandfather, he would cover in Talis and wrap the Tefilin and on Saturdays walk with the Orthodox to Shabbat Service.
Home to work in (city wht) 3 hours each way his family at home safe, at school. Sitting on that bench he was open to the poetry he'd observe then write. The rocking cabin, the patter of rain on glass, a line of thought - interrupted now by a passenger's coughing? Did he write poems looking at fields and factories in the rain, keeping a snack lunch by his side (perhaps tucked by his overcoat, hat and briefcase full of papers).
Would he venture to have a chat on the train and whom would he talk to? There, who could possibly understand. Did those passing on the sidewalk understand how fortunate to go to and fro they were, not looking over their shoulder watching out for denouncements and disappearances - under Communist rule neighbors were whisked away from denouncements never to be heard from or seen again, and the and food shortages the soldiers and mandatory rallies these things these people wouldn't (and don't) comprehend - and Thank Gd they don't!! This land is many things but not savage tyranny.
He had been one of those strangers perhaps...not reminiscing, pondering. Not keeping at the forefront this craving this relief this full awareness of how they were free. He'd been changed, forever. No, to understand to be heard when asked to truly listen and tell the story, he would have to be at home or find other Polish or Russian Jews to understand, to feel at home. And that would come after work, after the train home from work.
My grandfather was fair but ever so stern. He wanted my father and Uncle to be opticians/optometrists, shoemakers or watchmakers (why not medicine I'm not sure) as those are trades always required, even during turbulent times.
My father did study optical engineering then helping him get excellent jobs! My uncle became a legendary math maven at Bell Labs. He was proud to see his Granddaughters and Grandsons his wife and his vigilance persistence faith kindness courage seeing them (and us) like jacob aaron to the promised land New York City (via Australia, Iran, Arkensas, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, etc) and would be proud evermore with the further Mazelof Great Grandaughters and a Greatgrandson, and now with the story being told
What my family (parents, grandparents) believed and acted on then focused on ensuring that Justice Prevails. In the story, just as the Macabees keeping alit the eternal flame so now does our Statue of Liberty. My family is the first to patriotically exclaim 'let Liberty Ring!' and in the same breath we observe never at the expense of others. Vigilant of Justice upon witnessing injustice we are moved to cry out, rally, change laws whatever it takes to help those less fortunate and when seeing with eyes we use our hands to help as kindness/tolerance/compassion/charity/decency is the only path to peace. The proper resolution of tensions (interracial/interfaith/intercultural/interpolitical/interclass) is through unity and standing united (as modeled in the ideal of) the united states of america, and it's constitution (which is partly based on Hebraic law!). For this isn't just the jewish way or kind way or right way it's the only way to dispel inequity is by equanimity like the french revolutionary cry of 'liberty fraternity equality'. Through it all he did lose but adhered to his faith. With their faith they persevered and saved their, my family. They had little with them but talis papers, toys, cup and dignity.