
A Lifetime After Fleeing the Nazis, They Tell Their Stories
In the months after Kristallnacht, the 1938 Nazi pogrom widely remembered as the start of the Holocaust, thousands of Jewish families sent daughters and sons abroad to safety. Some 10,000 children arrived in Britain and a handful went to other European countries.
Without their parents, and despite language barriers, they built varied and often remarkable lives. Many of them eventually settled in the United States.
As this extraordinary rescue mission, known as the Kindertransport, has gained recognition, researchers continue to unearth new information about these journeys in archives, newly discovered papers and interviews with the last living survivors.
Only a few hundred who were part of the Kindertransport, which ended in September 1939, are believed to still be alive, and as memories fade, the push to record their experiences has gained urgency.
Here, seven survivors tell their stories.
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Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
Silver Linings: ‘Let's do lunch?'
My wife likes to say that 'Food is Love.' She has it cross-stitched and placed on a wall between the dining room and kitchen to ensure it is visible and not forgotten. More than just actually eating or preparing a meal, she likes entertaining - having others over while sitting around talking after sharing a meal. She used to volunteer frequently for church and community potluck dinners, but we don't seem to have them as much anymore. Some may even see visiting in the hall as a distraction from the main reason for going to church. More and more people attending community groups likewise seem to prefer to have a meeting, conduct business, and leave immediately once the meeting ends. No time to linger. Get things done and move on. Some years ago, Harvard professor Robert D. Putnam wrote a groundbreaking book entitled Bowling Alone about the decline of social interaction in America, about our tendency to want more 'me time' and less 'we time.' Putnam writes convincingly that we have, in fact, seen a significant decline in 'social capital.' He provides mounds of data showing that we spend a lot more time alone than we used to, and it shows up in decreasing voting rates, plummeting volunteering rates, and less time mingling, entertaining, or having others over to the house. More and more have 'She sheds' and 'Man caves' where they can be alone. And many trust each other less and keep their distance from neighbors. By contrast, in The Greatest Generation journalist Tom Brokaw describes how the generation of Americans who came of age in the 1940's was better at getting together for community picnics and church socials than any generational group that preceded or followed them. These people had learned from experience how to cooperate, do things together, and root for each other; they succeeded not only in transforming American society but also safeguarding democracy, Brokaw writes. Yet, we are social beings if we are anything. And sharing meals together encourages a sense of belonging. A 2017 UK study showed that eating with others provides both social and individual benefits. Those who eat socially more often feel happier and are more satisfied with life, are more trusting of others, are more engaged with their local communities, and have more friends they can depend on for support. Eating together involves more laughter and reminiscing, more bonding and less detachment and alienation. Utah community leader and former Utah Tech University Trustee Julie Beck is convinced that the best way to connect either with grandchildren or others is to go to lunch together. 'It is disarming,' she says. 'Friends, colleagues, neighbors, and family members let their guard down and get real when eating together. My husband jokes that he is going to put 'Let's do lunch,' on my tombstone because I go to lunch so often with others. But I am convinced that real conversations over lunch are more effective than any other option.' The informal atmosphere of lunch allows for a more relaxed and less pressured environment for having conversations, encouraging genuine expressions of each other's thoughts and feelings. Sharing a meal creates a common ground and a sense of togetherness, making it easier to connect and bond. Food itself can become a lighter topic of conversation, allowing you to focus on something outside of typical concerns or issues and later find common ground. Thomas Jefferson himself used to invite disagreeing associates over for dinner, with encouragement to steer conversation towards unifying ideals and away from divisive issues. Casual conversations over lunch can help build rapport and trust, making it easier to discuss more personal or sensitive topics in the future. 'I've been going to lunch regularly with the same group of high school friends for more than 40 years,' Mary Matheson says. 'They know me so well that some things don't really require much explanation. We can talk in 'shorthand.'' Keith Murdoch agrees. 'I hang out with the same 4-5 guys that I knew in high school. We're all retired, and we may go to sports games together, but we always go eat before or after any event. That's where we talk. That's when the good stuff comes out.' Whether you are using a meal like this to unload emotional baggage or update each other on recent successes, these shared conversations over lunch help offload our burdens and reduce the daily stressors that are constantly nipping at our heels. There's something about the act of sharing food that deepens our relationships. It's no wonder that studies show families who eat together regularly tend to have stronger bonds. Dinner parties can stimulate this same togetherness among casual acquaintances. We host a block party each October and invite the 30 households in our neighborhood to a backyard barbeque. We supply hamburgers and hot dogs while asking our neighbors to bring a favorite family dessert or salad. The backyard table gets filled with everything from shredded green Jello salad to Indian naan. As we eat, we talk about each other's families, cultures, and personal histories. By the end of the night, what began as a group of acquaintances fast becomes a group of friends. There is a certain intimacy that goes with having neighbors over for dinner—even if it's in the backyard. Such home hospitality invites others into our lives in a way that going out to eat can't replicate. It's an expression of trust, not only an opportunity for shared entertainment. Such dinner parties can create the kind of connection that the 'greatest generation' intuitively understood and exemplified. There's a time and place for 'doing lunch' - just as there is 'having others over for dinner.' An informal setting, a shared experience, a chance to break bread together may seem like a lost art. But with a little encouragement and a few tips, it can be revived. The benefits for all of us are enormous.


CBS News
an hour ago
- CBS News
Coast Guard member from N.J. describes effort to help rescue 165 from deadly Texas floods
A New Jersey man with the U.S. Coast Guard is being hailed as a hero for helping rescue more than 165 people from the deadly Texas floods. Many of those rescued were girls staying at Camp Mystic, a Christian summer camp, where at least 27 other campers and counselors died in the devastating flash flooding. "It was pretty traumatic" As the Guadalupe River surged in Texas on the Fourth of July, Coast Guard rescue swimmer Scott Ruskan, who is from New Jersey, flew with his team through severe weather to get to Camp Mystic, where hundreds were trapped. "We decided the best course of action was to leave me there," Ruskan said. Ruskan, 26, was on his first mission out of Naval Air Station Corpus Christi. He found himself on the ground in the flood zone, setting up triage and comforting many girls at the camp. Vehicles sit submerged as a search and rescue worker looks through debris for any survivors or remains of people swept up in the flash flooding on July 6, 2025 in Hunt, Texas. Jim Vondruska / Getty Images "It was pretty traumatic. You have a lot of kids who are having probably the worst day of their life, they are missing friends, they are missing loved ones, they don't know where they are," Ruskan said. "Bridges were gone, roadways were gone" Ruskan and colleagues from the Air National Guard rescued 165 victims from the flood. "They were in need of airlift. There was no other way to get them out. Bridges were gone, roadways were gone, and the water was coming up too high for boat rescue. The only option was airlift," Ruskan said. Ruskan credited his crew. His family said he did exactly what he was trained to do. An aerial view over the Guadalupe River on July 6, 2025 in Kerrville, Texas, after heavy rainfall caused deadly flooding. / Getty Images "This is exactly what he wants to do" Ruskan was sworn in to the U.S. Coast Guard while at Rider University during the height of the COVID pandemic. His mother and aunt said the Warren County, N.J., native went to college for accounting but quickly realized saving lives was his calling. "Very proud. He is doing what he loves to do. This is exactly what he wants to do," his mother, Eileen Ruskan, said. "We are just grateful for him, you know, on the other hand, so full of sadness for these people that are living through what really he has tried to help and do his very best in," his aunt, Marie Rowan, said. "My thoughts and prayers go out to all the families that are involved in this today and the last few days," Eileen Ruskan said.
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
My husband asked me to change my last name to his when we got married. Years later, he apologized.
After getting engaged, I joked to my husband that we should both change our last names together. He didn't find it funny and really wanted me to take his last name. A few years ago, he apologized for suggesting that I take his name over mine. In the early days of our engagement, one of my favorite ways to tease my husband was to come up with new last names we could take when we got married. I would joke that rather than taking his last name, we could both go through the identity change together. We could start fresh with something cool, something that was just ours. But my future husband, whose extended family throws reunions that are essentially small festivals, didn't find it funny. It wasn't that I was emotionally tied to my previous last name. Saying and spelling "Childs" for the rest of my life was just easier than "Nieslanik". Not to mention, it feels weird to think of yourself as one person with one name for so many years, only to change that. My name was a fundamental part of who I was. To change it in my mid-thirties felt strange. Plus, there is the bureaucratic red tape that comes with changing your name. Birth certificate, driver's license, passport, and bills. Changing your name is like updating your entire identity one tedious form at a time. At the end of the day, though, I knew how much it would mean to my husband if I took his last name. And part of that was because I had already changed my name once. My last name when I met my husband wasn't the one I was born with. Ironically, in my late teens, I'd already gone through a name change after a short-lived first marriage. My maiden name had been a mouthful that people always messed up, so adopting a simpler one was a relief. Plus, no one in my immediate family shared my last name. My mom had given me her maiden name, but she remarried and took my stepfather's last name, as did my half-brother, whom they had together. I was the only one left with a hard name no one else seemed to want. The fact that I had changed my name before, no matter the reason, didn't sit well with my soon-to-be husband. If I had changed it before, he argued, why wouldn't I be willing to change it again? This time, for him. It felt like a personal slight, which I understood. Beyond that, my husband comes from a large, close-knit family who do all share the same last name. Every summer, they gather in the hundreds for a family reunion and have streets named after them in towns sprinkled across the Western Slope of Colorado. As an only child, he felt we needed to carry on the name for his family branch by having me take his name. He had a strong internal belief that members of the same family should have the same name. Although his family is relatively liberal, they shared the cultural expectation that a woman takes her husband's name when they marry. And he had some pride wrapped up in the idea that I would carry his name—that when people met us, they would know that we belonged together. Since I had no strong objections, I did end up changing my name, and I never really looked back. I used a service that helped me change all my accounts, IDs, and paperwork in one (mostly) easy go, so the hassle was more minimal than expected. Now, more than a decade later, I see several upsides to having changed my last name. For example, it's uncommon, so I rarely get confused with anyone else. As a writer, I find that beneficial. I like having the same last name as our children, and I'm glad I didn't have to think about whose name we should give them or if we should hyphenate. And I've realized that my last name has a lot of personality. If that means I have to spell it an extra time or two, the trade-off is now worth it in my opinion. A few years ago, my husband apologized to me for "making" me change my name. He mentioned how silly he thought his reasonings were now, that he understood having the same last name is kind of arbitrary. He pointed out that it affects literally no part of our lives together in a substantial way. My favorite realization that he mentioned was how our love is so much greater than a shared last name. Then, he asked if I'd like to change my name back. The thought of returning to the ease of "Childs" as a last name has its appeal, but I couldn't help but laugh. I have zero desire to go through that paperwork again. Not unless he wants to revisit that original idea of picking a brand-new name together. And he's willing to file the forms himself this time. Read the original article on Business Insider