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a young, observant Orthodox 
girl in the ghetto.
A collection of photo-
graphs, videos and artifacts 
throughout the exhibit also 
adds visual content that fur-
ther magnify the impact of 
Rywka’s words. As Sophie and 
I turned the corner from one 
display to another, one artifact 
lay hauntingly under glass 
— a lone pair of intricately 
woven baby shoes. They were 
the kind that Rywka’s diary 
described her making in the 
ghetto’s sewing factory, yet 
another example where Sophie 
and Rywka’s ghetto experienc-
es would intersect. 
“
At the beginning of the 
ghetto, I worked in the knit-
ting shop,” said Sophie, “and 
making all this stuff, and 
everything was being sent to 
Germany.” Sophie was taught 
to knit beautiful linens, gloves, 
scarves and hats. “I was 
grateful that maybe that’s the 
reason I survived. I had a job,” 
she said, a responsibility that 
at times served as a distraction 
from the harsh reality of her 
tortured existence.
By “being sent to Germany,
” 
of course, meant the items 
Sophie and Rykwa were pro-
ducing were strictly for the ben-
efit of the Germans. Specifically, 
the very baby shoes we were 
standing in front of — a stark 
reminder to her that they were 
never intended for the Jewish 
babies in the ghetto.
“The worst part was the 
babies,” said Sophie, of the fate 
of the little ones. Too young to 
work, they were of no use to 
the Nazis. “They were killing 
babies, so innocent,” Sophie’s 
voice cracked visualizing the 
atrocity her memory elicited.
While touring the exhibit of 

Rywka’s life, Sophie was in fact 
finding herself, her history, 
with every step she took. Like 
coming upon a small sewing 
machine sitting on a pedestal, 
just like the one her father, 
Icek-berek Tajch (pronounced 
E-seck Ty-ch), toiled at in the 
ghetto.
His being a tailor before 
the war broke out made Icek 
a valuable asset to the Nazis. 
The very profession that once 
provided a modest income for 
his family, now performed at 
no cost for the benefit of his 
captors. He sewed through 
hunger and exhaustion until 
his barbaric treatment 
led to his demise. Said 
Sophie, “I remember 
my father sitting at 
the sewing machine. 
He was, when he died, 
only 51 years old, but 
he was like an old man 
in the ghetto.”
Sophie’s father 
died in August 1942; 
her mother Luba 
Rozrazowska (pro-
nounced Rose-ruh-
zuh-skuh) Tajch, pre-
ceded him in death by 
11 months, also at 51.
We then came upon a 
photo in the exhibit projecting 
two smiling, young girls in the 
Lodz Ghetto. “Yes, it definitely 
reminded me of my sister,
” said 
Sophie of the image. “We were 
so young that we should have 
been carefree and happy, but it 
also brought back such horrible, 
unimaginable pain and suffer-
ing.
” 

AFTER THE GHETTO
Sophie and Srylek would final-
ly be reunited with their sister 
Felicia, when a packed boxcar 
transported them from the 

Sophie Finds Her Voice

Seven years ago, at age 85, Sophie Klisman was 
finally ready to break her decades-long silence on 
sharing her Holocaust survival story. “Most of my 
friends, also survivors, were passing away, dying one 
by one … none of them are alive … I’m the only one,” 
said Sophie.
“So that made me realize I better start telling my 
story. It’s getting late. I want to educate. I want the 
people to know what happened.” 
That decision has had a ripple effect.
The veil of secrecy slowly being lifted by Sophie 
further fueled a longing by her daughter Lori to 
learn more about her mother’s hidden history. Lori 
was introduced to The World Memory Project, a free 
online resource of information about victims and sur-
vivors of Nazi persecution “to restore the identities 
of people the Nazis tried 
to erase from history and 
enable families to discover 
the fates of missing loved 
ones.” 
Lori’s search on the web-
site paid incredible divi-
dends. Her most dramatic 
discovery was being able 
to identify and confirm that 
Sophie’s mother, Luba, and 
brother Moishe, who per-
ished in the 
Lodz Ghetto, 
actually had 
burial sites in 
Lodz, Poland.
It took some 
convincing by 
Lori, but this 
revelation led 
Sophie to agree 
to what was 
for years unthinkable for her — a return to Lodz. She 
now had a reason — to erect and place a tombstone 
at her mother’s gravesite that would honor all her 
lost loved ones. It offered, Sophie said, “A little clo-
sure. We could never go to a funeral. We never knew 
where they were buried.” 
A daily blog by Lori during that eventual trip to 
Poland in 2016, initially intended just for family as 
a legacy to her mother, evolved into her penning a 
book about her mother’s incredible Holocaust his-
tory: 4,456 Miles: A Survivor’s Search for Closure — 

Lori Klisman Ellis, 
Sophie Tajch 
Klisman and Anne 
Klisman

Lori’s book cover

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