bronia

(Exercise class at the Jewish Community Center, 2003)


Bronia’s was the second funeral I attended this week.

During the service her son, daughters and a grandchild told “Bronia stories” and spoke in “Bronia-isms.” I laughed, cried, then laughed again.

Bronia’s son Walter talked about her questionable driving skills. He recounted the time his children were young and first went on a drive with her. When they came home they said they never wanted to drive with their grandmother again. Not only was she a bad driver, she kept honking the horn, and this caused people to turn and stare.

Their dad knew right away what the kids were talking about. He reminded them to consider Bronia’s size. Yes, it was true, he told us. Whenever he rode in the passenger seat with his mom, the horn was always honking. It wasn’t because she was warning people to get out of the way (though that might have been a good idea) - it was because, with various stops and turns, her chest would often heave toward the steering wheel, and well, the sheer weight and force of it would sound the horn.

I conjured up the familiar image of Bronia, short of stature and wide of girth, wedged into the driver’s seat of her car, her eyes barely clearing the top of the dashboard.

Walter told us about a day shortly before Bronia died. He was at her bedside in the hospital.

Walter: Are you okay, Mom? Can I do anything for you?

Bronia: I’m so uncomfortable. Lower the bed a little, would you?

He cranked the bed down a bit.

Walter: Is that better?

Bronia: A little more.

He turned the crank again.

Bronia: Oy, just a little lower.

Finally, Walter figured out what his mother was up to.

Walter: Mom, you want to get out of bed, don’t you? Sorry, but you can’t. Remember, you have a broken leg. If you try to walk right now, it could break again.

Bronia (who always managed to get her way): If you let me get out of bed, I promise… I will walk VERY LIGHTLY.

If I could have told a Bronia story, it would have been hard to choose just one, but it might have been this:

Not so long ago I took Bronia to Operation Breakthrough so she could speak about her experience during the Holocaust to a group of teenagers. As we were leaving the building, a woman (all lit up with a huge grin) approached Bronia with outstretched arms. “Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen you in years. You used to run the bakery, didn’t you? You made my wedding cake. It was in 1977. Remember me?”

Bronia didn’t miss a beat. Even though she was exhausted and drained from the talk, she beamed back at the woman. “Of course. It’s so nice to see you again!” They hugged each other, and the woman kept exclaiming how unbelievable and how great it was to see the bakery woman again after all these years. Clearly, running into Bronia had made her day.

As Bronia and I walked to the parking lot, I asked her if she really remembered her old customer. She shrugged and smiled and said, “She’s such a lovely person.”

That was the thing about Bronia.

In spite of the darkness and the evil and the sadness and the loss that had been a major component of her life, she was a proponent of love.

Everyone was lovely.

Life was lovely.

And those firmly held beliefs made Bronia one of the loveliest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

Her daughter, Judy, told us that the whole family was at Bronia’s bedside as she died. They had their arms wrapped around one another, encircling the bed, and they huddled close. They started singing some of Bronia’s favorite and beloved old Yiddush songs. So that’s how my friend died, being surrounded by and lifted up by family and music and memories.

How lovely is that?

I’ll miss Bronia.

Me and the 500 other people who were at her funeral. We really will.

(I stand corrected... 700 other people! If you have a Bronia story or memory you'd like to share, please leave it a as a comment so we can all enjoy.)

bronia

Bronia Roslawowski, age 88, of Kansas City, died July 14, 2010, at Menorah Medical Center. She was born in Turek, Poland, on December 23, 1921, to Hersh and Bluma Kibel. As a child, she was educated at Beis Yaakov. During World War II, Bronia was imprisoned in several Nazi concentration camps including Auschwitz. After being liberated by the United States Army (for which she was always grateful to America), she worked with the Army in displaced persons’ camps. In 1948, Bronia immigrated to the United States. Not knowing where to settle, she asked where President Truman was from and decided that if Missouri was a good place for the president’s family, it would be a good place for hers. In her early years in Kansas City, she had many jobs including caring for newborns at Baptist Hospital. She often worked three jobs to support her children. For many years, she and her husband Mendel owned M & M Bakery where Bronia passed out love and doughnuts to generations of children, and bread and sandwiches to their families. She was proud of the success of all of those who worked with her, particularly those who continued in the bakery business. Bronia frequently spoke to schools and community groups about her experiences during the Holocaust, teaching messages of love and justice. “I don’t hate the Nazis,” she would say, “so no one has the right to hate.” She taught that she was saved by righteous Jews and non-Jews alike. “Look out for your neighbor because, if you don’t, no one else will.” Bronia was unfailingly loving, and she herself was loved by people from every part of the community. As she always said, “What a baker puts into the oven, she takes out of the oven.”

bronia

I recently paid a visit to my friend Bronia. This led me to reconsider a portrait I made of her in 2003. I always liked it, but the watch she was wearing really dominated the frame. This morning I cropped out that watch, something I would never have done back in the day. Working with images on the computer has definitely loosened me up.

bronia at operation breakthrough

A couple of weeks ago I was at Operation Breakthrough working on a project, and I struck up a conversation with three young women about my various photographic series. They were really interested in my work; we ended up going to the computer lab and looking at my website. They asked great questions and were so interested in what I do. What proved to be the most fascinating to them was "Among the Ashes." After looking at that work, we started talking about the Holocaust. When I told these thirteen and fourteen year olds that I could arrange for them to meet someone who had actually survived the Holocaust, they could hardly believe it. One thing led to the next, and today I took my friend Bronia to Operation Breakthrough to speak to a group of about 20 young teens. The three young women who inspired the event are pictured here with her. Since they are approximately the same age that Bronia was when she was rounded up by the Nazis and sent to a labor camp, I think they were especially moved.


This is how I introduced Bronia.

"Bronia was born eighty-three years ago in the small town of Turek, Poland. She was named Brucha, which means 'blessing' in Hebrew.

When Bronia was a young girl, she lived in a neatly kept brick house with her parents and brothers and sisters. She played the violin, liked to ride her bike, make up plays, help in the garden and in the winter ride on a sleigh pulled by her Russian husky dog.

All pretty normal things in a pretty normal life.

She and her family had lots of friends, both Jewish and non-Jewish. They spoke Russian, Polish, German and a little French. Bronia’s mother was a kind woman who made food for the needy and never spanked her children.

Bronia doesn’t have any pictures of her mother and cannot remember her face. But, of course, she thinks about her – and the rest of her family – every day.

When she was thirteen, the Germans marched into her small town and eventually forced all the Jewish people out. Two years later, after living in horrible conditions in a ghetto, Bronia volunteered to take her sister’s place when the Germans came to the house to select people to go to work in a labor camp. For the next two years, Bronia lived in a barn with 150 other women and had to clear swamps and work on farms. She was sent to three different concentration camps, the last of which was Auschwitz-Birkenau.

After being there a year, she was loaded onto a truck that was taking its cargo to the gas chamber. She escaped…. by jumping off the back of the truck and landing in a snow covered ditch. She returned to the barracks at the concentration camp and was kicked - nearly to death - for what she had done. Later that year she was sent to another labor camp. Finally, Bronia was forced to go on a death march and was one of only 19 women from Auschwitz to survive and be liberated.

Bronia never saw any of her family again, except for one cousin.

She left Europe and came to Kansas City in 1947 where she trained as a nurse. She chose Missouri because of Harry Truman. She and her husband eventually opened the M & M Bakery at 31st and Woodland. She has three daughters, a son and several grandchildren.

Bronia doesn’t hate anyone for what happened to her. She has devoted her life to spreading the message that what matters most in the world is that we respect each other’s differences and that we love and take care of one another."

a book about bronia

On Sunday, Eddie and I hosted a reception and book signing for author Maureen Wilt and the special woman who is the subject of her book. "Love the World" is a children's book that tells the story of Holocaust survivor and well-loved Kansas City super star, Bronia.


This is a true story about a woman who refused to live her life forever imprisoned by the Nazis. Once liberated from the concentration camps, Bronia embraced love for others just as robustly as she did her new-found freedom. Using wonderful illustrations and easy to understand language, "Love the World" inspires readers to treat others with tolerance and respect.




There was quite a turnout for Bronia's book party. She has many friends and fans and has touched countless people, young and old. She held court with each person who finally made it to the front of the line and carefully personalized the front page of each book they bought. A warm hug and heartfelt greeting was extended to each and every admirer.


I feel lucky that Bronia and I have been good friends for many years. She has brought a lot of joy and inspiration into my life.

You can buy a copy of the book here.

learning about the holocaust

Bronia and me

Last night we took our friend Bronia to a presentation at a local school. It was given by a high school senior and her English teacher, both of whom had been part of an intense group tour of Germany, Poland and the Czech Republic to study the Holocaust. We watched a video about the trip, heard remarks from both the student and teacher and then sat through a Q & A. It is always inspiring to witness the enlightenment of a new generation when it comes to something like this horrific part of our history. It was obvious that this young woman, along with the other twelve students on the trip, had been changed by what she learned. It was obvious that she and her new friends will work hard to teach others about the importance of tolerance, compassion and respect.

When the presentation ended and people were starting to get out of their seats, Bronia rose - and in her low, strong, Polish accented voice, said, “I was there.” Everyone turned to her, and she thrust her arm out so all could see the tattooed number. The room grew quiet, and then she started to tell a little bit of her story. It was the perfect way for the young girl who had just talked about her trip, as well as those who had come to hear her, to (literally) see history in the flesh.

Going anywhere with Bronia is an adventure, a surprise and always turns into a lesson of some sort.

We went for ice cream afterwards. She said she hadn’t done that in a long time.

bronia

I have written about my friend Bronia before. You may recall that she is Holocaust survivor. (Please read my post from December 24, 2006 for her story.) But she is so much more than that.


At four and a half feet tall (give or take an inch or two), she is a giant of a woman. Bronia has been through it all. She endured the murder of most of her family in Europe, was imprisoned in several concentration camps and was eventually sent on a death march. She relocated to America as a young woman lacking money, connections or a good grip on the English language. She has been a wife, mother, business owner, grandmother, community volunteer, public (and “motivational”) speaker and beloved friend.


She called yesterday to say her car had broken down and asked if I’d take her to the grocery. As we strolled up and down the aisles, I was struck by her sense of determination, dignity and pride. It was obvious she wasn’t feeling well, but she kept on moving. It was clear she was down, but she kept on smiling - greeting a beloved friend or fan by the produce counter, again in dairy, again in the check-out line and once more in the parking lot. I was sure she would run out of steam, but she seemed to brighten with each and every encounter. After shopping, she invited me into her home (along with my friend Sandy who had accompanied us.) With much animation, she delivered one of her legendary spontaneous lectures. Sandy and I, held captive by her charm, commitment and compassion, heard about the importance of being strong, even in the face of adversity.

Bronia loves to sing a song (it’s in Yiddush) that has a chorus with the following English translation: “I’m gonna LIVE, LIVE, LIVE [she puts full blown emphasis on these words] until I die, die, die.”

I don’t know anyone who does “living” better than Bronia.

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As I sat in my car in the school parking lot waiting for Max on his first day of third grade, I saw Bronia for the first time. She could be kind of hard to miss, given that she’s not even five feet tall, but her stride, her sense of self determination, her age, her general presence - well, all of that was difficult to overlook. She was at school every single afternoon to pick up her granddaughter, who was a few years younger than Max, and I would watch her with great curiosity as she moved toward the school doors. Moments later, as she and Rebecca would emerge from school and walk past my car, holding hands, laughing, obviously enamored of one another and happy be to reunited, I caught a glimpse of the number tatooed on her arm, and I wondered more and more about this woman.

I soon learned her name from a friend at the synagogue and began to hear stories about her. Turns out, Bronia was a well known (and well LOVED) icon in Kansas City. She still is.




Bronia was born in 1926 in Turek, Poland. When the Nazis came to Turek in 1940, she was relocated to a ghetto. From there she was sent to three concentration camps, Inowroclaw in 1940, Gnojno from 1941-1943 and Auschwitz from 1943-1944. She then was sent to a labor camp, Reichenbach, on a death march to Zalcweidel, and then to Nederzachsen from which she was liberated in April, 1945. Practlcally every member of her family had perished. After the war, she studied English and worked as a nurse at displaced persons camps in Germany. She came to the United States in June, 1947.

She went on to marry, have four children and several grandchildren. She and her husband owned a bakery. Bronia eventually became a highly requested speaker for local and regional schools and other organizations, telling the tale of her life during the Holocaust. Hearing her story was, and still is, a a compelling moment. Hearing her story can also be a profoundly inspirational and life changing experience.

In 1999, I began a project for the Midwest Center for Holocaust Education. I was given the opportunity to photograph local Holocaust survivors. When I realized I would have the chance to meet Bronia, I was thrilled. I made her portrait at the bakery one morning, but more important, I made a friend who has become an important and enduring force in my life.

I have yet to meet anyone who embraces each day and each person she meets with more gusto than my friend Bronia.

To spend time with this smart, funny, kind and gentlewoman is to get a huge dose of love and laughter (not to mention some great chicken soup, if you happen to visit her around mealtime... scratch that - anytime really). And if you are paying attention, you can also learn an important lesson or two... about things like tolerance, kindness, compassion and love of life.


Today, Eddie and I got to sing to her as she celebrated her 80th birthday with her many friends and family members.



Happy Birthday to Bronia, a real treasure. I count myself as one of the lucky ones whose life has been touched - and changed - by the courage, strength, determination and goodness that defines this very special woman.