Yom Hasoah reminds us, we are all in this together…

The gentle soul on the far right is my great Granny Selma--a survivor of Auschwitz. My Granny Lisa and Moustache (as I called my grandfather Imre because his name was too hard for us as kids) escaped Hungary and Czechoslovakia through Iraq, Israel (called Palestine at the time) and settled in Kenya. That is where my grandfather built the Nairobi synagogue and my mom, Eve (named because Kenya was like the Garden of Eden for these refugees), was born and raised. It is where I got my name Tana, after the Tana River.

I can never forget the Holocaust, for my family's story is part of me, with me, who I am.

On this Holocaust Remembrance Day, Yom Hashoah, I urge you not only to not forget, but to not allow it to be repeated. We must welcome the stranger, help the refugee and value the immigrant. For we were in their boat at some point in our families' histories. And because, as this pandemic reminds us, we are all in this together.