Memory of the Holocaust Flora Hogman, Ph.D. Parenting Not only did children of survivors' own upbringing affect how they transmitted their Jewish heritage to their children, it also affected their own parenting. While eventually children of survivors modified their views of their parents, many of them complained of the oppressive atmosphere of the household, the jarring experience of hearing about those who died, of experiencing their parents' despair and sense of mourning. Some considered parents weak and stupid, and many vowed they would be "different" parents to their children. It usually meant that they would give to their children what they had missed in their own childhood. One woman says "I want my children to have a perfect, normal American life, a dog, a cat, and to be everything for them my mother wasn't, fun, protective, optimistic." Her wish was subtly conveyed to her daughter: during the interview the daughter said she always has had to reassure her mother that she was a good enough mother, better than the grandmother. Mrs. L. says, "I want my daughter to get many gifts, not like me. I was so deprived as a child." She gets into arguments with her mother about giving presents to her daughter, while she was never given them herself. She also says: "My parents are too different; I don't know if I want her close to them." An American life, non-Jewish friends, Batman, Spiderman, that is what Mrs. S. wants for her son. She says, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood; I laugh a lot with him. He's already a joker." When I question her about the joyful part of Judaism, she agrees "Yes, it probably can be; but I was not exposed to these parts; it would be nice, richer; I will look for a Reconstructionist synagogue. The values connected with honesty were not taught by my parents, and they were always unhappy and screaming. I don't want my son to be burdened; I keep my burdens to myself. I want to teach him compassion." By the end of the interview, she seemed to have forgotten her earlier statements that home was a dreary place, and claimed she got her joy of life and compassion from her mother. Does this mean she has to deny any good in her parents in order to detach herself from their pain? Is this part of a gradual change in her perception of her parents? Helen's mother had not felt "parented." She grew like a weed she says, and struggled to know how to be with her child in everyday matters, how to talk and play with her. "I work hard to have a stable home. We have breakfast together, dinner together. Maybe I have overprotected her and overcompensated; I helped Helen with her school work because that's what I needed from my parents. I want for Helen a place to be safe and to think; something in herself she can rely on, so she doesn't need me; a better way to live a life. I want to teach her not to be a victim." Interestingly, despite these goals, her own sense of deprivation was communicated to her daughter Helen: the child feels her mother wants her to feel sorry for her. In several cases, the third generation felt they had to take care of their parents' feelings, which originated in their upbringing. Even when relationships with parents were positive, there were certain feelings, such as guilt and fear, the second generation did not want to hand down to their children. Conclusion The Holocaust continues to be an organizing vehicle for identity, although it is a memory fraught with conflicts. The unwillingness to take on the pain of the ancestors and the victimology of Judaism clashes with a fear of betraying one's heritage. There are conflicts in the perception of parents as weak or strong. Clearly many of the second generation needed to make fences between themselves and the Holocaust to alleviate the pain, to protect their children, and to create a life separate from their parents. They were all, however, concerned with preserving in some form their Jewish heritage. The conflict became the vehicle for idiosyncratic creative solutions, such as developing a very personal Seder, or making a film about the Holocaust. The grandchildren interviewed perceive grandparents as bigger than life; it is interesting in the light of their parents' often negative view of their parents' pain that the third generation want to emulate these grandparents. Some third generation people express an awareness of their parents' vulnerability, and need to comfort them vis-à-vis the grandparents. This creates new burdens. It seems that the continuous impact of Jewish origins on the third generation reflects the second generation's persistence in searching for a comfortable Jewish identity. Those third generation people interviewed seem to reflect their parents' own journey in their search for Jewish identity, and seem reactive to their parents' own Holocaust-related feelings and conflicts. For other, and younger, and uninterviewed members of the third generation, one can only speculate about the impact on them of the second generation's struggle to find a comfortable Jewish identity. It can be conjectured that they will have some conflicts to resolve about their Jewish identity, and some lingering fears and vulnerability. Generally, victimology is rejected, and values of standing up for oneself are espoused, by second generation parents. Children are brought up to be strong, not victims. Issues concerning the humiliation of the Jews are handled variously. The second generation warn children against prejudice, and teach tolerance. Those who pass on the Holocaust heritage with no restrictions may be instilling fear in the third generation. For those who may want to repress their origins, life in America provides a perfect opportunity. American values, which emphasize now and the future, are conveniently available. Different Jewish groups allow for diversity and compromise, for instance Reconstructionism, and gay synagogues, among others. The memory of the Holocaust in these people lives on, transformed, part of a new identity. [Page 5 of 5]