Why January 27th Matters

On Sunday, January 27th, 1946, my paternal grandparents got married. Born and raised in Montreal, they grew up in post-World War 1 Canada, with the highs of the early 1920’s and lows of the Depression in the 1930’s. My grandfather served in the military during World War 2, as a member of the Canadian Air Force to protect the coast of Newfoundland.

My grandparents shared many stories with me about life in Canada during World War 2, a little about their courtship and some details about their wedding on January 27th, 1946. They were married mere months after the end of the war, when the world was recovering from such devastation.

I never asked my grandparents why they chose that specific date for their wedding. January 27th, 1946, was the one-year anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the Nazi death camp in Europe. In 1946, commemoration, memorialization, reflection for many, about the atrocities in Europe, wasn’t, for the most part, done.

For my grandparents, January 27th, 1946 must have been a joyous day, with family, friends, music, dancing and celebration. The war was over and the future was bright for them, in their tight-knit community in Montreal.

Seventy-nine years later, my grandparents are no longer alive, but I quietly celebrate them every January 27th. What they had was true love. I remember how my grandfather (we called him Poppy) always looked so lovingly at my grandmother (we called her Nanny). For my family, January 27th is special.

But, also in my head is January 27th, 1945. That was the day when Soviet forces liberated the Auschwitz death camp. Over 1.1 million people were murdered there, most (but not all) of them, Jews. Some people may feel that liberation is a reason to celebrate. Because the death camp was liberated, does it mean the people there were free? Did they feel they had a future? Were they excited about going home, or building a new life?

For those who survived after the Auschwitz liberation, it took many years for many of them to settle in a new home. While maybe January 27th, 1945, was the start of their liberation, one year later, most of the survivors were still struggling to survive. Communities in Montreal, Canada were far away.

Is it fair of me to even ask, did my grandparents know? When they set their wedding date, did they know it was on the first anniversary of the liberation of what may be the most infamous of the Nazi death camps? Did they understand, in 1946, what happened to the Jews of Europe? Why does it matter what date they got married?

I’ve been asking myself these questions over the last 24 hours, as world leaders, educators, historians, and even some survivors, gathered together on January 27th, 2025, at Auschwitz, to commemorate the 80thanniversary of the death camp’s liberation. I have been poring through many news articles, from journalists pointing out hypocrisy to offering history lessons to stories of survival and renewal.

The thread across everything I read is: we must remember. We must talk. We must educate and share and learn and listen. January 27th matters. Eighty years after the liberation, with so few people left to tell us what they experienced, we need to keep their stories alive. It is horrific to think that at one death camp, over 1.1 million people were brutally murdered. When it was liberated, on January 27th, 1945, it is estimated that about 7,000 were found alive.

These are people, with names, families, and stories. Yesterday I read about Tova Friedman, who sees the liberation day as her birthday. Leon Weintraub spoke of still seeing the Nazi symbol in Europe today and how important it is to never let this kind of murder happen again. Learn about George Reinitz or Miriam Ziegler.  Listen to 96-year-old Howard Chandler.

I have visited Auschwitz. I joined thousands of teenagers, when I was just 15 years old, on Holocaust Remembrance Day, as we walked between the labour and death camps of the massive complex. I walked under the gate that stated, “Work makes you free.” I saw huge mounds of hair, shoes, clothes, passports and more. I sat with survivors who told me their stories.

When I stood at Auschwitz, so many years ago, and I hugged survivors and cried with my friends, I remember thinking about my grandparents. I remember thinking how lucky they were to be born in Canada, that they didn’t have to experience this horror. I also remember thinking that I could never forget how I felt that day.  

January 27th matters. Maybe it is a day of celebration. Maybe the people liberated in 1945 didn’t know it at the time, but for many it was the start of a new life for them. One year later, on January 27th, 1946, it was also the start of a new life for my grandparents. For all those no longer with us to tell their story, may their memory be for a blessing.

 

 

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