The Road to Freedom by Paulina

The Road to Freedom by Paulina - June 2014 Scholarship Essay

As I consider the topic of a book I would write, I immediately think of my grandfather and his story, a story that is now part of history, but a story that lives on inside me and that will be passed on for generations to come. My grandfather was a holocaust survivor, as was the rest of my extended surviving family. Having lost his mother and four siblings in addition to everyone around him at the hands of Nazism, his spirit was determined. After WWII, he helped Jews escape from communist Soviet Union, but was captured and sent to a labor camp in Siberia. Barely alive at the end of five years, he yet again struggled through anti-Semitism and communism in Ukraine. After finally managing to get his family to Poland in the 1960s, he was once again met with anti-Semitism and hatred. Facing persecution and discrimination as a Jew in Poland, was granted asylum in Sweden, where he brought my grandmother and my father. This is where my story and his begin to overlap. I think coming to Sweden was a miracle for my grandparents. They had everything they could need and were able to find work and a nice apartment. I recall my grandmother, who had been a teacher in the former Soviet Union, saying, “I could never have imagined that I would be working at a university, teaching Russian, in Sweden. It was a dream.” I had a very happy childhood in Sweden with my parents and grandparents. We lived as free people and rarely encountered any prejudice. My grandfather was finally free and happy. Over the past ten-fifteen years, however, anti-Semitism has again started rising in Europe and is now at its highest level since the 1930s. Hate speech and vandalism is common and our community Rabbi has been attacked many times. Many of my Jewish childhood friends have left for Israel or the United States.

Money never mattered to my grandfather. Things with a monetary sticker attached to them never mattered to my grandfather. What mattered was freedom, family, life. He found meaning in time with his family, in travels with his friends, and maybe most importantly, he found it in Israel. Israel symbolized freedom to him, and he knew that as long as there was Israel, Jews would always have a place to be free. His children and grandchildren would always have a home. He used to plant trees there, urging us all to do the same instead of giving him birthday presents. He would visit Israel often, and spoke fluent Hebrew. As I consider the topic of a book I would write, I immediately think of my grandfather and his story, a story that is now part of history, but a story that lives on inside me and that will be passed on for generations to come.