For 83-year-old Shlomo Resnik, one such item was the steel bowl he and his father used for food at the Dachau concentration camp. His father Meir’s name and number are engraved on the bowl, a reminder of how hard they had to scrap for food.
“We fought to stay alive,” he said.
Approaching the glass-encased display, Tsilla Shlubsky began tearing. Below she could see the handwritten diary her father kept while the family took shelter with two dozen others in a small attic in the Polish countryside.
With a pencil, Jakov Glazmann meticulously recorded the family’s ordeal in tiny Yiddish letters. His daughter does not know exactly what is written and she does not care to find out.
“I remember him writing. I lived through it,” said Shlubsky, 74. “Abba [Dad] wasn’t a writer, but with his heart’s blood he wrote a diary to record the events to leave something behind so that what had taken place would be known.”
She said it pained her to part with the family treasure.
“I know this is the right place for it and it will be protected forever,” she said. “Now is the time and this is the place.”