Now that I am a guardian of Nutek’s memory, I will make sure he is never forgotten, and when I will read in shul, I will do it partially also for him.
A Bar Mitzvah is a significant event in a Jewish boy’s life. I am lucky that I live in a time where I, as Jew, can live freely and openly, and celebrate my Bar Mitzvah without being afraid. Throughout history, this has not always been possible.
I twinned my Bar Mitzvah with that of a boy called Naftula Orlowski or Nutek as he was called by his family. His parents were called Esther Leah and Zalman. Nutek and I could have lived similar lives had he not been born in 1932. He lived in Deblin Irena in Poland. This is where my great grandmother’s family came from too. Sadly, Nutek and his parents spent the war in Deblin ghetto and were most likely deported to Treblinka in 1942, a fate shared with a lot of my family as well.
Leading up to my Bar Mitzvah, I raised money for Yad Vashem in Nutek’s memory by inviting my friends for an afternoon of eating cakes I baked and playing football.