Scrolling through the album of the trip we put together, the pictures and scenes, there are so many memories, some happy, others melancholy, still others terrifying, of my mother’s wartime experience in Corps.
Yet each vignette and every picture tells the story of the inhabitants of a small village in France that willingly took inconceivable risks to save my mother, a Jewish family, and many others.
But my mother’s story cannot be only her story. My mother’s story and stories like it should be repeated endlessly under similar circumstances. Her memories and the memories of other survivors must be made part of our collective heritage and shared widely in the hope that it will inspire others to protect marginalized people at risk.
It is our story – my mother’s story, my story, my children’s story, and our collective story. And my mother will gladly share it.
