Sustaining Memories

In my work with trauma survivors, the input of Holocaust survivors and their families, and their willingness to share their stories, was essential to my own insights and to improving professional training and individualized client care. In order to understand their needs, I needed to understand their strengths — how they coped with the extremes of loss and of the range of trauma they endured. I needed to learn how to hear their stories, and in order to hear their stories, I needed to learn how to listen. For four decades, I became a willing student and a ready listener as I worked with hundreds of aging survivors, their adult children and their grandchildren.

I shared my learning with colleagues, and together we initiated changes in care, developed models of individualized approaches to support and services, and taught doctors, nurses and allied health professionals some of the unique needs of elderly Holocaust survivors. Each survivor had a unique and miraculous story of survival and I learned the importance of the personal story, quickly recognizing that within each telling, new understandings, friendships and perspectives evolved. I heard bone-chilling stories, I heard heart-rending stories, I heard life- affirming stories, I heard stories I wished I had never heard, and I heard stories I knew I had to tell others. All of these stories had a profound effect on me.

In 2011 I was contacted by two colleagues, both working in different contexts but sharing my passion for working with older adults. I had previously partnered with Sandra Kerr, the Director of Ryerson University’s Programs for 50+, and while I knew of the Azrieli Foundation’s Holocaust Survivor Memoirs Program, I had not met staff member Elin Beaumont.

Elin and Sandra had spoken about partnering to form the Sustaining Memories Project and invited me to join them in building a model that would allow the Azrieli Foundation to help survivors create a written narrative of their experiences for their families. It took me less than a second to agree, and our adventure began! With the full support of the existing memoirs program, under the leadership of Elin Beaumont’s tireless commitment to reaching out to survivors and volunteers from all corners of Toronto, combined with the enthusiasm of Ryerson’s and Sandra Kerr’s 50+ students, this project was born. Brainstorming with these two women and their colleagues was challenging, exciting, stimulating and always produced some creative and original ideas.

The concept of using “writing partners” to work 1:1 with Holocaust survivors who could not write their own memoirs was unique. I had witnessed and experienced the inner resources necessary for a survivor to share their story and I knew the toll that the telling might take on an individual. I also knew of the rewards and the benefits. At the time I did not appreciate the learning curve that a writing partner would embark on, even though we were blessed with many educated, committed, creative and sensitive volunteers. We required them to participate in several hours of training that included Holocaust history, an understanding of the range of social and psychological challenges that many older survivors experience, an awareness of the potential impact of post-traumatic stress reactions and a basic concept of the symptoms of various age-related illnesses that complicate both the remembering and physical strains involved in sharing memories and stories. We also stressed the importance of making their shared time together (often several visits adding up to several hours) as positive and enjoyable as possible. This part of the training was my responsibility and the importance of building trusting relationships was underlined and discussed as we looked for committed people who had the capacity for compassion, understanding and patience.

This intense work was just the first stage of their training. Next came sessions with the Azrieli teams of editors and tech people. Once a writing partner had hours of digital recording and their survivor partner had told what they needed to tell, the transcribing process began. It was a long and onerous process that included checking spelling, grammar, geography and historical facts for accuracy. Our volunteers were committed to producing a quality product on behalf of the survivor and invested their energy and time to bring their words together in a form that would create compelling reading. Once this process was complete, the professional Azrieli Foundation editors stepped in to polish the manuscripts, do more fact-checking and make the final product shine while still maintaining the voice of the survivor.

I had originally thought the rewards of this project would come from the production of a new collection of memoirs — I had no idea of the amazing people I would meet who volunteered to become writing partners. In preparation for their training we tried to anticipate the challenges and the workload, but their passion and promise elevated the entire process and enabled a new dimension of narratives to be added to the existing and remarkable collection of survivor narratives. It was challenging and often tedious work, but so important in order to ensure that the final story would contain the voice, the perspective and the heart of the survivor.

From the beginning, this commitment placed the Sustaining Memories Project apart from other collections of assisted survivor narratives. Suddenly there was an opportunity within the survivor community for people who couldn’t bring themselves to write a whole book, for people who had missed the opportunity of attaining an education, for people who were suffering with age- related illnesses that prevented them from embarking on a large self-sustaining project and for people who had been too traumatized to tell their story until they thought they were too old and frail to do so. So many who had been unable to participate in various opportunities to share their narrative responded so positively when realizing that they were being offered a new and different opportunity. It was very gratifying to offer an approach that could break the isolation of silence that had compounded the isolation many were experiencing through age-related changes and challenges. These were the people that were most vulnerable and most under-represented in the international treasure trove of survivor memoirs.

Elin Beaumont was in charge of reaching out to the survivors, explaining the approach, reassuring them that they would be the central focus of the process and nothing would be written without their consent. The Sustaining Memories Project would enable their full participation based on what they were ready to disclose and discuss. Their writing partner would work closely with them to ensure they were satisfied with the results. We understood we had fears to allay and trust to build, but were constantly reminded of the courage and resilience of so many Holocaust survivors as they embarked on creating their memoirs. Assigning survivors to a compatible writing partner was a sensitive and central component of the success of the finished product.

Where relationships with writing partners were established successfully, remarkable things happened. Survivors who had been reticent to speak or had been too traumatized to want to remember willingly shared stories that now will further illuminate our understanding of the impact and the history of the Holocaust. Survivors who couldn’t bring themselves to trust ‘outsiders’ or ‘strangers’ formed caring relationships with their writing partners, many that continued well beyond completion of the memoir.

Not only were the writing partners essential members of the memoir-creation team, in many instances families also participated. Some participants faced major and critical physical health barriers to participation, and families committed to supporting them so they would be ready and able to do so. At times survivors experienced cognitive changes and challenges during the writing process, and families stepped in to fill in the gaps. Regardless of what supports were offered, it remained the choice of the survivor when to utilize offers of help. We witnessed instances where survivors requested family presence and then we received feedback from family members of the life-changing impact of being part of the process.

From the onset of Sustaining Memories, our primary goal was to provide survivors with a written story as a legacy for their families to ensure their words weren’t lost. Everyone involved understood that we were working within a valuable time-limited window of opportunity. The various groups of volunteers, some who committed more than once, rose to the challenges and over seven years, the program successfully produced an astounding body of work, preserving more than ninety new survivor stories in writing.

The survivor participants made it clear that the rationale for telling their stories now, when they hadn’t been able to before, was advanced age and the desire to leave a legacy for future generations. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren were often the main reasons to face the trauma of re-telling and remembering. Survivors, regardless of their personal experiences during the Holocaust and the challenges they faced in rebuilding their lives, all recognized the need to name, describe and honour the life they had and the families they lost. It was important that future generations of their families know their history. This was an act of love as well as an understanding of the importance of their eyewitness memories being available to future generations who didn’t grow up coping with the immediate familial aftermath. Everyone involved was acutely aware of an obligation to both the past and the future. Without the assistance and support of the Sustaining Memories Project, this would have been an impossible achievement for this particular cohort. In many ways, these circumstances make this particular collection of stories very unusual and particularly poignant. They were almost never told!

The Sustaining Memories Project and my involvement with its conception, development and growth has been a unique learning process and a true privilege. I will never forget the book launch for the first group of Sustaining Memories authors. I was moved to tears and so proud to have been part of the process. The survivor authors, their writing partners, their family members, connected volunteers and staff were all present. In spite of myriad physical challenges, the glow of excitement coming from participants’ eyes shone the brightest. Everyone was silent when the program began. Even small grandchildren stopped squirming in their seats and paid close attention to the various speeches and accolades their grandparents were receiving. One-by-one, a survivor and writing partner walked down a central aisle for each to be presented with a copy of the finished memoir. Their dignity, joy, pride and confidence was palpable.

The stories in this rich and diverse collection range from short and to the point to lengthy and comprehensive. Some stories contain just a few memory fragments of pre-war years, while others describe in depth the loss of childhood, teenage or young adult lives. Regardless of their age during the war or how they were personally impacted by the Holocaust, all of the stories in this collection represent the emotion, the trauma, the resilience and the legacy of a unique group of elderly survivors. Many of the life lessons so important to humanity can be found within these powerful first-person stories, in a unifying theme of survival in spite of impossible odds.

People have often asked how and why I continue to do this challenging work for so many years. The simple answer is that it’s become very personal and the rewards are immeasurable. My need to know and understand has deep roots that have grown exponentially as I spend more time with survivors. My children, on their father’s side, are the third generation of a survivor family and much of their family history on both sides lies lost and buried in various parts of Europe. My quest for understanding has enriched my life and my sense of family, and I firmly believe that our hope for the future will find its strengths from the lessons of the past.