The Story of My Earings

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic


My name is Zeni Rozenstein and I'm an 82 year old Holocaust survivor. I experienced many horrors in my life, and this short tells just the beggining of it all.

Submitted: November 08, 2017

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Submitted: November 08, 2017

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The story of my earrings
My Grandmother's earrings were passed down from generation to generation.
It was a spring day, 10 days before Passover. My grandmother decided that we would celebrate my 6th birthday on 11 April 1935. On the morning of my birthday, the whole family gathered to celebrate together.
Despite the joy, tension was in the air due to the rumors about the expected riots in the city of Chernivtsi. In spite of the advice of his friends to sell the shops and the house and leave Chernivtsi as soon as possible, my father thought he could make more money by waiting for the Ukrainians to arrive. It turned out to be a big mistake and in the end my father lost everything.
For my birthday, Grandmother bought me a beautiful sailor suit.T he suit was light blue with white stripes; along with a pleated skirt. The shoes were dark blue lacquer. My grandmother styled my blond hair in such a way so that I looked like a doll.
The house looked like something out of a fairytale, decorated with balloons, flowers, candies of all kinds, cakes and gifts for the children. The gramophone played songs and the guests enjoyed the rich refreshments.
Then Grandmother came over to me and took off her earrings and gave them to me. Since I can remember, I thought these were the most beautiful earrings in the world. They had a flower shape with five leaves and a diamond in the middle. And so Grandmother said, “I got those earrings from my grandmother when I was your age. Today I'm passing them on to you. I pray that we will have good health and peace and I ask you to pass these earrings on to your granddaughter."I was so happy and I leapt with joy. 
The evening fell, the guests went on their way and we were about to go to sleep, then we heard a siren go off outside and there was knocking at the door.
We all went down to the basement and heard the sound of shells falling all around. After a while we heard voices calling us to come out. When we got out, we were lined up and marched to the nearby synagogue. Later we were evacuated to the ghetto, where the greatest nightmare of my life began. The fate of the earrings was horrible; they were brutally torn of my ears by the crude hands of an evil Ukrainian.
I survived, but the earrings were taken away and they were not able to be passed on as my Grandmother wished


© Copyright 2018 Zeni Rozenstein. All rights reserved.

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