I first met Anne in 6th grade. I felt so blessed that I even had the chance to meet her. She was such a courageous woman from Hungary. She was so sweet, her voice shaking as she told us her story. She sat in one of our school cafeteria chairs, up on our small, wooden stage. She held a bottle of water, the microphone so close that you could hear her take a sip. With a room full of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders, you would expect the room to be loud and chaotic. However, when she spoke, it was pure silence. Our compassionate listening skills we had been taught were being put into action. We kept our feet flat on the ground, we kept our hands still in our laps, unless we were taking notes, we listened not only with our ears, but with our hearts. Wow, I thought to myself, what a strong woman.

Anne was a Holocaust survivor. I am so lucky that I had the chance to meet her, on multiple occasions. She was a big part of our studies with Mr. Fred, our teacher. In my 8th grade year, we formed a closer bond with her. I can remember after she spoke I was just speechless. Her story was so powerful; I couldn’t believe I had actually heard it with my own ears. I couldn’t believe that I had just listened to a real Holocaust survivor in my own school. We all lined up to meet her; by our faces you would think we were in line to meet a celebrity. We were so excited to actually be able to meet a Holocaust survivor. I was one of the first to go up; I shook her hand, “Thank you for coming to talk to us today; I loved listening to you speak.” I expressed to her.

“It was my pleasure darling,” she said back to me, as she reached up to hug me.
With Mr. Fred, we learned about what the Holocaust was; it was a very serious topic to us, in and out of the classroom. It was my 8th grade year, near the end of our studies; we learned that Anne had passed away. She is greatly missed, by every student, every teacher at our school. I can remember the expression on Mr. Fred’s face, a wave of sadness flooded the classroom. He was trying to hold back the tears when he told us, our hearts were crushed. We loved Anne. We were the last class to meet her, the St. Francis of Assisi class of 2012. Her memory is still very dear to our hearts.

“If there were more people in the world like the kids at that school, the Holocaust would have never happened,” Anne would always say, even while she was in the hospital.
She thought we were all so nice and we all loved and cared for each other. She could see that we truly cared for the health and safety of others, and that we were friends to all. She could see that we would reach out a helping hand to those in need. She could see that we were not just a small school in the Highlands; we were a small school with a big heart that reached out to others, whether it was in our local community, or to refugees from Iraq, Afghanistan, Burma, and many other places. Anne loved us, just as we loved her.

In November of 2011, we had taken a trip to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C; we were hoping that Anne could join us. However, she was too sick to accompany us. The museum was so overwhelming. Mr. Fred had been preparing us for it, but you can never be quite prepared enough for what we saw. The pictures in every room just crushed our hearts. One of the things that affected me the most at the museum was the cattle car; I will never ever forget the feeling I had in there. We could smell the fear, the death. Usually, “you can smell fear” is just an expression, but we really could. I had never experienced anything like it before; words can’t even describe how it was in that car. You couldn’t help but realize that right where you were, right under your feet, stood someone that most likely lost their life. I realized that the little windows I was looking out of, people had looked out that same exact window before they entered the gate of the concentration camp, and they looked out that window while they were on their way to their death.
While at the museum, in the Hall of Remembrance, we lifted our heads and said the Mourner’s Kaddish for all that lost their lives in the Holocaust; I can still remember saying this prayer; I say it every now and then this year:
“Yit-gadal v'yit-kadash sh'may raba b'alma dee-v'ra che-ru-tay, ve'yam-lich mal-chutay b'chai-yay-chon uv'yo-may-chon uv-cha-yay d'chol beit Yisrael, ba-agala u'vitze-man ka-riv, ve'imru amen.
Y'hay sh'may raba me'varach le-alam uleh-almay alma-ya.
Yit-barach v'yish-tabach, v'yit-pa-ar v'yit-romam v'yit-nasay, v'yit-hadar v'yit-aleh v'yit-halal sh'may d'koo-d'shah, b'rich hoo. layla meen kol beer-chata v'she-rata, toosh-b'chata v'nay-ch'mata, da-a meran b'alma, ve'imru amen.
Y'hay sh'lama raba meen sh'maya v'cha-yim aleynu v'al kol Yisrael, ve'imru amen.
O'seh shalom beem-romav, hoo ya'ah-seh shalom aleynu v'al kol Yisrael, ve'imru amen.”

We had memorized this prayer in that form, the English translation, to me is still very powerful to read,
“Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.”

I didn’t even have to think about the words to the prayer as I recited it; they just came naturally. At Anne’s memorial, I can remember sitting with my classmates, surrounded by friends and family of Anne Klein. We were all so quiet and reverent; you would think we were adults. We all wore our Class of 2012 sweatshirts, we all dressed nicely, and most of all; we all showed we loved her. Even though we were Catholics, we didn’t feel out of place at the Jewish Temple, Temple Shalom. We listened to her friends and family talking; we even got to hear her grandson play the violin. She would have been so proud of him. His music was beautiful; it was like listening to an angel singing.
I miss Anne. I had only personally spoken to her a handful of times, but she made a large impact on my life, who I am and who I want to be. At the museum, I purchased a blue bracelet. On it there are the words, Erase the Hate, on the back of it there is the number, 139755, a prisoner’s number. Every time I look down and see this bracelet on my wrist, I think of Anne, and I think of all those who were not fortunate enough to make it out of the Holocaust alive. I have vowed to wear this bracelet until it is broken. I have worn it for a year now, never taking it off. At this very moment it is on my right wrist, where it has been, and where it will stay. You, Anne, are greatly missed.


RIP ANNE KLEIN
1921-2012
HOLOCAUST SURVIVOR
WE LOVE YOU
& WE MISS YOU