The Last Button

Today is Yom Hashoah, which makes me think of my grandmother’s story. It also makes me think of another story. It is called “Something from Nothing” and is based on a famous Yiddish folk song.

There once was a grandfather who loved his grandson and so he made him a beautiful coat. The grandson wore and wore the coat until it got so frayed and torn, he couldn’t wear it anymore. So, he turned it into a jacket. He wore and wore the jacket until it got so frayed and torn, he couldn’t wear it anymore. So, he turned it into a vest. He wore and wore the vest until it got so frayed and torn, he couldn’t wear it anymore. So, he turned it into a tie. He wore and wore the tie until it got so frayed and torn, he couldn’t wear it anymore. So, he turned it into a button. Then the button got lost and everyone said, that’s the end of the coat, you cannot make something from nothing. But he sat down and wrote a story about it and with the story he still had the coat and the jacket and the vest and the tie and the button.

It is almost exactly three years since my grandmother passed away. It isn’t only my grandmother. We are losing our Holocaust Survivors. We are down to the last button. But we still have their stories, and it is up to us to tell them.

But while I was writing my grandmother’s story, I began to question the importance of telling these stories. Her story was hopeful but so painful. To write effectively, I had to imagine myself in her shoes and she walked through hell.

Then I realized that is precisely what makes stories so powerful. It is the closest thing we can get to walking in our friends’ shoes. Stories help us get into someone else’s head and see the world through their point of view. Stories help us see our shared humanity. That is precisely the opposite of what the Nazis did. The entire Nazi propaganda was to convince people that Jews were subhuman and not like you. It was only then that regular people were able to kill them. We rectify this by sharing stories and finding and honoring the humanity in people. We don’t share Holocaust stories to feel sad. We share them to connect more and to understand one another more. We share them to see what hate can do so we can choose love.

As my grandmother said, “I was in the gas chamber and I am here to speak to all of you. Please, bring unity and a good world for everyone. Thank you.”

May we keep sharing our stories and may we keep listening to the stories of others.

This is a comfort to me and I hope it can be a comfort to you.

P.S: here are some beautiful picture books adaptations of the Yiddish folk song: