World War II

Each day he walked the dirt and gravel roads of our small rural town. He walked with a purpose, slightly stooped over, head down, one hand fooled in the other behind his back, deep in thought. He was a good family friend who visited my grandparents and parents often. Most of the conversations took place in German, unless my mother and I were directly involved then English was spoken. When my grandfather died he was one of the pallbearers. He would drop by to see my grandmother for morning coffee almost everyday. He spent many Christmas Eves sitting across from my father at our kitchen table. They spoke to each other in German and drank whiskey. Their voices low and somber. My father would never tell us what they talked about but we new it was about the war.

Alex and his wife Amelia survived a concentration camp. They had several children together. One day Nazis came and took the entire family away. Once they arrived at the concentration camp they were all separated. Their first day in the camp was the last day they saw all but two of their children. Although in the same camp, Alex never saw Amelia for months and he thought the worst. One day another prisoner told Alex he had seen Amelia. Alex soon after receiving the information she was alive got to see her, but he hardly recognized her mostly due to her bald head. They eventually escaped only to live a life on the run, hiding in the hills and woods barely surviving, but surviving. They eventually learned that two of their children had survived, a boy and a girl. Approximately on 1950 they arrived in New York, moved to Pick City North Dakota, my home town. When they moved to the United States, their daughter was not able to make the move as she had been diagnosed with a disease that prevented her immigration.

The personal stories shared and documented are so very few in comparison to the number of lives that were lost, an estimated 70 million plus. We are left with objects, planes, photographs, film, abandoned concentration camps and few documented stories to remind us of one of the most horrid time periods in the worlds history.

Alex will always be in my heart as a dear family friend. The man who walked with purpose. I will never know if that purpose was to remember or to forget.