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| Photo of Children at Auschwitz |
With the rise of overt anti-semitism and white nationalism in the world and the recent report that most young Europeans have not heard of the Holocaust and cannot name a single concentration camp, I am more grateful than I have been before for my trip to Auschwitz Concentration Camp 40+ years ago.
It was January of 1974, Richard M. Nixon was still president of the U.S., I was in the middle of 8th grade at Theodore Roosevelt Jr. High School which shares a fence with the San Diego Zoo. Our father, Prescott “Nick” Nichols, a leftwing activist and professor of comparative literature at San Diego State University, had earned his “sabbatical” and wanted to spend it studying in Paris.
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| the Stefan Batory |
To get to Paris in 1974 with a tempera-mentally pessimistic wife, as well as a 13 year old, 10 year old, a 6 year old and six months worth of luggage (without wheels mind you) in tow, our father picked the following logical route to Paris:
- 2 days by Amtrak from San Diego, CA to Vancouver, British Colombia
- 3 days by Canadian Pacific Railway from Vancouver, BC to Montreal, Quebec
- 10 days aboard the Polish luxury ocean liner called the Stefan Batory from Montreal, Canada to Gdynia, Poland (via England, Holland and Denmark)
- Then traveling by rail (almost said “horseback”) through Poland and then Czechoslovakia to Paris, France
- a massive strike of the pullman car servers on the Canadian rail, leaving us responsible for our own food, water and toilet paper on a 3 day trip across the continent sleeping only sitting up on our seats
- feeling sick and staying confined to my stateroom aboard the Stefan Batory every single day of the sea voyage–missing amazing looking food in the gorgeous dining room.
- Going through puberty on the trip as well as not eating so that I started the trip a plump little girl and ended it a tall thin young woman
- Returning from an overly long day trip in Rotterdam to see the Stefan Batory sail off with all our belongings and passports onboard, and, sadly, without us.
- Causing us to take a taxi 20 miles up a river to a barge where we joined the Stefan Batory in progress steaming along at many knots and had to climb a very tall ladder in the rain as it swayed back and forth on a moving ship.
- I will never forget the look on my mother’s face as she watched her 6 year old, Evan, being hauled up the side of the ship.
What an adventure. I look forward to the rest of the story. I appreciate your writing skills.