As the world becomes a strange, hostile place, I have begun to look differently at the lives of the relatives lost in the Holocaust. I’m not abandoning the family ghosts who have stalked me for the dozen-odd years since I started unearthing them, but my approach to them has become more urgent. Six months after the Hamas massacre of 10/7, I'm trying to fathom what my ancestors
Jarolim family
A Typo & A Tragedy: Tracing My Aunt Edith
As my CV will tell you, I am an editor as well as a writer. Correcting spelling and grammatical errors is second nature; I'm one of those people who proofreads restaurant menus (though not, you'll be relieved to hear, out loud when I'm with other people). So perhaps it's fitting that I should end up contemplating the fate of my namesake aunt because of a typo on a
My Father’s Great Escape: A Few Answers, Far More Questions
When I talk about my parents' forced departure from Vienna, I generally focus on the tragic outcome: the death of almost all their immediate family members, except for my father's brother, Fritz. On this Father's Day, I'd like to focus on the bravery -- combined with what must have been ingenuity and a bit of luck -- that got Paul Jarolim to America from Nazi-occupied
The Jarolim Family: My Uncle Fritz & Military Resistance
When it comes to my mother's family, the topic of military service is fraught. I've written before about the fact that my grandfather Herman Rosenbaum served in World War I but was not rewarded for his service by such basic decency as not being deported from Austria and sent to his death. I've also written about how I disliked the idea of my family members as victims. It
My Father’s Story: Remembering Paul Jarolim
It's the 23rd day of the Family History Writing Challenge and I see no reason to leave my father out; after all, he's 50% responsible for my genes and 100% responsible for my name. His sister, my aunt Edith Jarolim, was my namesake. More relevant to this challenge: He had almost literally the same history as my mother did in Vienna and New York--down to the closed bank accounts
Return to Vienna: Must the Past Be Prologue?
I'm going to Vienna in June. After writing about the city of my parents' birth for the past two years, I'm finally taking the plunge. I'm looking forward to the trip. I'm also dreading it. I was there only once before, in the early 1970s, at the request of my parents. While I was planning a trip to Europe with a college friend, Andrea, they asked me to visit the relatives
Daddy’s Girl: An Ode to Paul Jarolim
Move over, Kornmehl family. Today is my father's day. From Vienna to Belgium and America If I thought I knew next-to-nothing about my mother's past, I know even less about my father's. I'm not sure, for example, whether my paternal grandfather died before the war or left his family -- and, in either case, when those events occurred.* My mother didn't know either. And only