Gypsy musicians, in Roman, Romania,
play for the bride before her wedding.
say how it reminded them of when their
father took them to cheder or of their
next-door neighbor. Sad memories, happy
memories.
"Other people may do the same research
I did, they may be great anthropologists
but they won't get the same insights be-
cause of the feelings the music brought
out."
Strom played that music for a communi-
ty Purim celebration in Dorohoi, Romania,
for a wedding in Roman, Romania, at
melava malkahs in Belgrade, Yugoslavia,
and Debrecen, Hungary. It was all part of
becoming part of the lives of the people he
met. "We didn't come to a city, take some
snapshots and leave. We came and lived
with them, slept, ate and cried with them."
They even mourned with them. Strom
was in Warsaw the day of the funeral of
Clara Erlich, the supervisor of the city's
kosher kitchen and a survivor of the War-
saw Ghetto. While he intended only to at-
tend the ceremony, held in a cemetery on
the edge of what was the Ghetto, Strom
soon found himself doing more. It seemed
the hole dug for the coffin was too small
and so Strom jumped in to the grave and
"clawed away at the dirt," widening the
hole just enough to fit the coffin in, though
at an angle. "Such sadness," he says softly.
And sadness is something that is never
very far away from the thoughts of those
living in Eastern Europe. For never very
far away are memories of the Holocaust.
"Everyone is either a survivor or the
child of a survivor," Strom said. "Ask about
family or music or a neighborhood and the
Holocaust is always referred to. It's always
in their minds. There was not one Jew we
met who didn't mention it. We would see
pictures, plaques of those who died. You are
constantly reminded of it."
And yet, though they are living on the
land where it all happened, most of the
Jews of Eastern Europe, said Strom, don't
want to leave. "For the older Jews, it's their
home. As much as the ground is soaked
with their family's blood, it's still their
land, their language. Some are too poor to
go or too scared to go or don't want to leave
a successful business or are communists or
are married to a non-Jew. They say they
feel safer, they have their pensions, are wor-
ried if they left and got sick who would
take care of them. They have friends. It's
not easy to leave roots."
It's also not easy to get back in once
you've left, which, said Strom, is the reason
many of the younger Jews stay. "They
worry that if they left, they wouldn't be
allowed back in if their parents got sick.
The young ones stay also because they
have family, they can visit Israel anytime
they want, they feel safer from terrorism."
And, Strom adds, many stay, not despite
the Holocaust but because of it. "They say
we know Jewish life here is dying but why
leave and make it die faster. There is a
sense of purpose, a feeling of having to
maintain what's here, a need to maintain
the graves of their parents and grand-
parents."
And they stay, Strom said, because the
Holocaust is not all there is to the history
of Eastern Europe. "Jews have lived here
for a thousand years. We think of only the
Nazi years, but there was life before and
after the war. While 1939-45 were dark
years that have left a mark for all eternity,
there have also been happy times. It hasn't
been a paradise, but it also hasn't been all
black."
Just as Jewish life today is far from all
black.
Strom's book shows the synagogues and
schools, the holiday celebrations and ritual
practices, the kosher kitchens and can-
teens and clubhouses that still operate in
Eastern Europe. While most Jews are
older, there are, also young people and
children.
"The young adults are professionals just
like their counterparts in the United
Continued on Page 46
44
Friday, March 13, 1987
THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS