A Journey into the Past

Today I set out on a journey… one that I’ve been dreaming of for as long as I can remember. A journey into my past, my family’s past and a history I hold close to my heart. I am finally discovering the city of Hamburg, Germany. The city of my grandfather and his fathers before him….

My grandfather (right) and great-grandfather (left) in Hamburg, Germany.

“Looking into my family’s past helped me to realize that I had never truly stepped out of my comfort zone.  While I had excelled in the past, I had never pushed myself past my own expectations.  My grandfather’s horrific and inspiring story completely changed my outlook on myself. His story showed me that I couldn’t even fathom what I was truly capable of.”

I wrote these words over 5 years ago, in my college entrance essay. Little did I know, that my journey to self-discovery through my grandfather was nowhere near finished.

I have felt a strong emotional connection to the Holocaust for a very long time. It is taught in history class as a part of the world that has been left behind, but the truth is that it has always felt more personal to me.

In the 4th grade we began to learn about the Holocaust.  I found myself both hurt and offended. I felt protective of my family and our Jewish heritage.  As one of the only students in school with a Jewish background, I became extremely confused. I could not understand why Hitler had targeted the Jews. What happened? What had we done wrong? Even the censored elementary versions of these events consumed my thoughts and tortured my mind.

This wasn’t “just history.” This happened to my family.

I quickly became obsessed with my family’s past. I contacted older family members and extensively researched World War II trying to dig up any information I could find. I began reading books such as “The Diary of Anne Frank” and “Number the Stars,” but the more that I learned, the more questions I had. These stories were too horrible, too dark and too real. Sometimes they were so difficult to absorb that I had to put the books down.

These weren´t “just stories.” This happened to my family.

When I was 13 I first visited the “Anne Frank House” in Amsterdam. During my visit I was angry, disgusted and horrified; I felt dizzy and a little nauseous. Hitler was an uncontrollable monster that scared me more than any fictitious villain ever could. The graphic depictions of piled up bodies, gas chambers and starving children were too much to handle.

These weren’t “just pictures.” This happened to my family.

My great-grandfather, Paul (bottom row, third from left), and hospital staff.

Prior to Hitler’s rule, the Bonheim name was highly regarded in all ‘sections’ of the Hamburg community. Paul Bonheim, my great-grandfather, was the medical director of the Freemason Hospital of Hamburg and was decorated for his service as a physician during the First World War. My grandfather Hans followed in his footsteps working in his father’s hospital, while furthering his medical studies as a specialist in internal medicine. When the Nazi’s began relocating the Jews to concentration camps, my grandfather and his parents were forced to leave their home in Hamburg and flee to Holland. In Holland they were forced to hide from the brutality of the war in an abandoned hospital annex.  Eventually, their hiding place was compromised and Hans was sent to Sachenhausen, a work camp. His brother, Erwin, was sent to the death camp, Auschwitz, and was never to be heard from again. My great-grandfather was ultimately able to negotiate Hans’s release from the work camp in 1938. He then fled from the war to Oswego, New York.  Here, in America Hans had successfully escaped the war, but  not  the heartbreaking realization that he was the only member of his family to survive.  He found himself a poor immigrant, left alone to fend for himself in a foreign land. Still, he kept faith in his religion, improved his English by attending American movies, continued practicing medicine and began to build a new life in America.

My Grandfather Hans passed away two years before I even set foot on this earth, but even so, he continues to live within me in ways that I find hard to describe.

It has always been my plan to make the pilgrimage back to Hamburg with my father. To step foot in this city, no matter how hard. To see the place where my family came from, where they flourished and where they would ultimately suffer the horror of the Holocaust.

…..And then we found Elizabeth. Or rather Elizabeth found us.

A few months ago, my uncle Paul received an E-mail from a woman in Hamburg, inquiring about our family name: Bonheim. She wrote that she had found his name in a New York telephone book and wondered if he had any ties with the past Bonheims of Hamburg. Her family used to know the Bonheims, but had lost track of them during the Holocaust. To her great surprise, my uncle Paul was in fact the grandson of the Paul Bonheim her mother and grandmother once knew.

In an email to my family Elizabeth wrote ….

“Your grandfather Paul was always remembered in our family and he was the “doctor-hero” for my grandmother as he saved her life twice and assisted her between her two emergency operations to be able to give birth to my mother. So my family owes your grandfather just everything! We, my mum, me, my brother, my daughter Anna – we all wouldn’t be here without Dr. Paul Bonheim!”

When I received this E-mail, I read it over and over and over. There was still someone out there that knew my family! Someone that felt so strongly about them as to reach out to us and make it known! For a long time it had seemed that the death of my grandfather had put an end to my search for answers, but Elizabeth was here to help in my continuing journey.

Today I finally met Elizabeth. I can’t be sure exactly what force has brought our families together, but she has provided a looking-glass into our past. She is bringing light to an incredible story too long untold. I know this week will be emotionally taxing, yet it’s exciting to think that my lingering questions may finally be answered. Tomorrow the journey continues….