Shirley Kantor-3 generations — Association of Jews of Vilna and vicinity in Israel

The Vilna family –3 generations/ written by Shirley Kantor

It is not often that we have the opportunity to travel back in time to a place that we did not experience. Three months ago that is what I did! I went to Vilna and I would like to tell you about what was not only a trip to another country, but also a trip to another time and a different life.

My name is Shirley Kantor. I am 33 and only 3 months ago, I was a daughter of the Kantor family in Ramat Hasharon; and lo and behold! I became a daughter of the Pazenson family from Breite Gasse. Until a few months ago, I was simply a proud sabra until I also became a proud descendant of the Vilna community.  A short time ago, for me the Holocaust was stories of pain and suffering, but other people's stories. However, thanks to my grandmother, to what I saw, heard and experienced in Vilna, the Holocaust has become part of my personal history.

On my visit to Vilna with 94 dear men and women, my life changed. I discovered strong, rich roots which continue to nurture me. I was exposed to the full and vibrant life of the Vilna community; a world that had once only been my grandmother's anecdotes, became reality before my very eyes.

I realized that the people of Vilna are a special race. They are happy, embrace life, hard-working yet indulgent, clever and sophisticated; they love to laugh and love to love. They are educated, learned and sportsmen....cheeky yet elegant.

For seven days and nights we laughed and cried, we met and felt the people and the places: the streets of the Old City, the forests and the natural beauties that my grandmother had always recalled with a yearning smile, the Real Gymnasia (I can brag that my grandmother studied there!), the culture, the university, the Choral Shule and the Ga'on's grave in the Dembrovka cemetery…

Unfortunately, not all the memories that awaited us there were pleasant. Definitely not!  The alleys of the large and the small ghettos, the NKVD, the Lukiskes prison, the Ninth Fort in Kovno, the Ponary pits, the monument to the Jews of Rudishuk and the environs in the Valley of Death, the place where Benny Meltzman's family were shot and buried, the partisans' trenches in the Rudninkai forest…all these places bore painful scars, reminders of open wounds that will never heal.

The past came to life before my eyes because of those heroic Jews who so generously shared their personal experiences with us. The most fascinating stories were those of people in hiding: how Michael Shemyavitz hid with his mother behind the gateway of the ghetto; how Aharon Einat hid with his cousins under the bed in the specialized camp block; how Simha ben Sha'ul hid in a chimney and an attic of the camp; how Aharon Ya'akovson hid in Malina under the ghetto building; how Mussia Harlap smuggled food into the ghetto and Baruch Shuv's stories about the life of the partisans in the forests who ate mosquitoes in the swamps to keep them alive.

I learnt that the simple everyday things we take for granted are the most precious: what we eat, how we take a shower, what we do to pass the time.  They are the living experiences that are never forgotten.

On my return home I began reading books that were written by members of the community: Suzy Vexler, Gregory Shorr and Benjamin Anolik. Since I had been to so many of the places that are mentioned in the books, I could see them in my mind's eye.

I lucked out. I was privileged to see and understand where some of my better features come from; to see my grandmother sobbing beside the locked gate of her childhood home yet also to watch her laughing and singing with Yocheved and the rest of the group. It was exciting to see my mother, Mickey, reenacting dozens of different experiences.  All the members of the group, from every generation, regarded their lives in Vilna from a different perspective. I made wonderful new friends of three generations; I gained a new family, the community of Vilna.

Tomorrow is Grandma Hanna's 75^th birthday. Exactly 61 years ago, on her 14^th birthday, she was separated from her mother in Vilna and taken in a cattle carriage to the AEG work camp. All of my courageous grandmother's family perished and she was left alone like a stone in a field. However, today, on the 21^st September, 2004, I solemnly promise you, Grandma, and each and every one of you, dear Vilners, you are no longer alone –we are all one another's keepers, and your past –with its treasures and horrors will continue to live with us and within us, the children of the future generations. Part of it is genetic… we will continue to reproduce your Vilna genes but the more important part is in our hearts and in our minds. We cannot let it go. I do not want to let it go. I want to continue living it and to transmit it to my children when the time comes because these roots have produced flourishing, fruitful and beautiful trees.