Sledgehammer and the Family Tree
Did you know I have cousins in England? And in Australia? And Belgium, the Netherlands, Colombia, New Zealand, Panama, Israel, and every corner of these United States. At one point, they were in Ecuador, Peru and Brazil too. I’m still coming to grips with how not-normal this is.
I know families don’t always stay together like they once did before travel became faster and easier. Our own children are setting down roots in different states than the one where they grew up. But most of our friends live within shouting distance of their extended families. You know what I’m talking about- all that groaning about massive holiday gatherings at Grandma’s house, and where do you think the term “Drunk Uncle” came from?
I grew up near the families of my mother’s only brother and my father’s only sister. And, luckily, not a drunk uncle in sight. I’m fortunate this branch of the family wound up in the same geographic location, because both sides of my family were splashed all over the planet across decades before coming together in New York. It makes me wonder about things like fate, kismet, destiny and the hand of G-d when I think about it.
It wasn’t always this way for the Arnold and Giesen clans. Before the 1930’s, we were like many other families, settled in a home country for generations. My mother’s family had been in Germany since the 1500’s according to a cousin who archives family members on her side. My father’s family had been in Belgium and the Netherlands since the 1600’s according to a cousin who archives family members on the other side. They were well and truly settled, ensconced, established, rooted and any other synonym you can come up with for no plans to go anywhere else.
Life was very good for both sides of our familial tribe. Successful businesses, strong social and religious connections, growing branches on the family tree. Mom would have been presented to society at a debutante ball and Dad would have definitely been encouraged to pursue his creative side instead of having to work jobs he considered drudgery. His mother was a well-known cellist, and artistry was a source of pride for the family. And there was enough money to indulge the arts as a career.
We Were Alright Right Where We Were, Until We Weren’t
I’m one of the fortunate ones who lives to tell the tale. Almost everyone who didn’t scatter to the four corners of the earth is dead, murdered in prison camps you read about in history books. Many branches of my family tree end with the word Auschwitz. Anyone who didn’t, couldn’t, believe that their own country and fellow countrymen could turn on its citizens in terrible, terrifying ways wound up under the sledgehammer.
The lucky ones, realists who somehow did and could believe what was about to happen, who had the foresight and wherewithal to face the unthinkable and still think enough to formulate a plan and act on it, survived to carry on the branches of the tree. But now we are everywhere, a disjointed group of distant cousins who were left to forge a whole new story for this family.
Taking the Good With the Bad
It takes effort, but a lot of us have stayed in touch. I just returned from the wedding of the granddaughter of my mother’s cousin in Colombia and felt as close to them as if they lived next door.
Through the wonders of the internet, we connect to each other in ways that would not have been possible before. We get to hear of things like travel and visit each other when it works out. Some of us had never met before, but the hugs and smiles are like a reunion anyway. We call each other cousin even though the “second, once or twice removed” might make other people say, “come on, you’re not even really related at that point.”
We don’t have the luxury to agree. And we all equally feel we somehow owe it to ourselves and future gens to continue this family tribe in spite of the nearly successful attempt to wipe us out. My mother, who continued her mother-in-law’s tradition of taking each grandchild on a special trip, brought my girls to Amsterdam to meet their cousin, the last one who is still there. And Mom took my niece to Australia to meet her cousins who are really only related by marriage but welcomed them with joy and open arms. On a trip later, my daughter and niece met up in London and reached out to cousins there who hosted a family reunion dinner in their honor. They got to meet relatives their age who looked a bit like them and hear stories of family members they would not have heard otherwise. All this makes my heart so glad.
The internet also helps us watch babies being born and grow up, even though it’s not the same as living nearby. And as I mentioned earlier, a cousin on each side has stepped up to archive the family tree and update it each year. It’s very cool, even though when I get in my head about it, I get sad that we don’t have that physical closeness many families have and maybe take for granted.
Looking back, a habit which grows stronger every year I’m on this planet, it seems so unfair. It’s also horrifying, terrifying and causes generational trauma, but right now I’m going to focus on unfair. My poor parents, children when this happened, lost their family heritage, culture, and community. My poor grandparents had to make unfathomable decisions that, generations out, turned out to be the correct ones but at the time seemed crazy. Every branch on the family tree made a choice, and those who survived fought with British Troops, or changed their hair color and religion and found a family willing to risk their lives for them, or boarded freighters to unknown places carrying what they could or made their way to Palestine and later were instrumental in the formation of a new nation.
I’m thankful my distant cousins feel the same way I do about the family. It shows that even in the face of evil, human nature can and will thrive. A good thing to keep in mind, especially in these unsettled times.