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WORLD FOCUS: When tying shoelaces saved my life

During my daily morning walks in Colonial Williamsburg’s Historic Area, my shoelaces often get loose. I need to retie them. I put my feet up on the stairs leading to a house, and bend down to do so.

The moment, I do it, an image automatically pops into my mind.

I am in Budapest, Hungary, in 1944, on a cold, fall day, turning into a short street. Suddenly I realize, armed patrols of the Hungarian “Nyilas” (Arrow Cross) militia are closing the street at both ends. They are checking IDs. They are hunting not only for Jews but also for Hungarian Army deserters. They have a license to kill, with impunity.

I am, halfway between the two ends of the street. The patrols are coming toward me from both sides. They stop to check the IDs of people on the street. I have no ID, and I must decide what to do.

The only escape route, I see, is to duck into the entrance door of an adjoining apartment building. I slowly climb the stairs to the second floor. There, I bend down, untie my shoelaces, then tie them again. Repeatedly.

After a while, I got concerned that someone may observe me. Hesitating, I climbed down the stairs, opened the entrance door, and peeked out. The patrols had left the street.

My relief was immense. I had just escaped from a Nazi slave labor camp and was looking for a shelter, like a hunted animal. My encounter with the Fascist militia would have been fatal.

Subsequently, I joined the, Zionists-led, anti-Nazi underground movement in Budapest and was furnished with fake ID.

I intended to share this story with Robert Keith Packer of Virginia, who wore a “Camp Auschwitz” sweatshirt at the U.S. Capitol during the last year’s riot, joining the mob of people who stormed the building.

As reported by the Associated Press, the words “Camp Auschwitz” were above an image of a human skull. Packer’s sweatshirt also bore the phrase “Work Brings Freedom,” a rough translation of the German words above the entrance gate to Auschwitz, the concentration camp in German-occupied Poland where the Nazis killed more than a million men, women and children.

I wanted to ask Packer whether he was aware of the meaning of those words when he decided to wear that sweatshirt, or whether he ever had such an experience, as I had.

I turned to Sen. Montgomery Mason, who represents Virginia 1st District in Richmond. I asked him to facilitate a meeting between Parker and me.

Sen. Mason, wrote me back, saying; “I have not followed much about his trial. When it happened, I looked him up as he seems to live in my district, but he is not registered to vote (no real surprise there.) When I get back from the General Assembly session, I could facilitate, but I am not sure I would give him that much attention.”

The meeting between Packer and me never took place.

The Daily Press reported recently on the rise of hate messaging in Virginia; ant-Semitic flyers were distributed in Virginia Beach neighborhoods, as well as in Richmond.

This must sound as nothing new to Professor Dr. Phyllis Leffler of the University of Virginia.

She was the keynote speaker at a public forum in Williamsburg, in the aftermath of the Unite the Right Rally, that took place in Charlottesville in 2017. The Rally reflected on the resurgence of white supremacy and a glorification of Nazi ideology.

The forum, at the Hennage Auditorium, was organized by Nancy Hill, of Williamsburg, under the sponsorship of Temple Beth El, in collaboration with Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, and with the support of Virginia Humanities.

Leffler pointed out, “There is a long strain of anti-Semitism in Western history that lives under the surface ready to erupt when given legitimacy.

“The current conditions in the United States — economic frustrations of groups of people who do not see opportunity, and the growing socio-economic divide in this country have given rise to this.”

According to Leffler, “The right response is to call it out loudly and clearly. We should never fear responding to despicable ideas and acts. I find that there are so many concerned and well-meaning non-Jews who want to be good neighbors and who want to be supportive. We must not be afraid to educate and tell our story.”

(Frank Shatz is a former resident of Lake Placid and a current resident of Williamsburg, Virginia. He is the author of “Reports from a Distant Place,” a compilation of his columns. This column is used with permission by the Virginia Gazette.)

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