As a grandchild of Holocaust survivors, I grew up hearing about the unfathomable conditions the Jews endured while in concentration camps or in hiding. I learned about the numbers tattooed on my Papa’s arm from Auschwitz, my Bubbie’s stories of caring for the younger girls in her camp, and why my mom never had her own grandparents, aunts, or uncles. These stories are so ingrained in my childhood, I’m always startled when I find out someone doesn’t know about the Holocaust.
