Growing up, I didn’t know that I came from a family of Holocaust survivors. A high school assignment led me to start uncovering their remarkable story. Even though I knew my grandfather well, I had no idea about his saga of survival. “We Were the Lucky Ones” is a true account of what he and his family went through during the dark years of World War II.

My research involved traveling the globe to interview relatives and close acquaintances with first-hand memories. I also met with the second and even third generation survivors, who’d heard stories from their parents and grandparents. I was very fortunate to have access to the priceless videos of testimony by several relatives, courtesy of the Shoah Foundation’s Visual History Archive.

I also spent years investigating records available through government and military archives, historical museums, universities, Holocaust centers, ministries, websites and more.

Finally, I traveled to Eastern Europe to walk in the footsteps of my grandfather and his family, to experience with my own eyes some of the most important locales in their far-reaching journey.

After nearly a decade of exhaustive research, I knew I had enough information to create a factual record. I could have written the story in non-fiction form. But in the end, I allowed myself the creative license to include details that were implied but not literally provable –what were my relatives wearing and eating? What were they thinking and saying? I hoped these details would add more depth, color and emotion to my story. So “We Were the Lucky Ones” is rendered in one of my favorite genres, as historical fiction.

My book’s title was inspired by a comment my great aunt Felicia made at a family reunion in 2000. Felicia was a baby at the start of the war, eight years old when the war finally ended. At our gathering over half a century later, she spoke softly as she described the family’s survival as “miraculous.” I remember waiting eagerly for some sort of explanation to follow. But Felicia simply shook her head and said solemnly, “We were the lucky ones.” Her words stayed with me until the burn to understand how my relatives could have defied such odds finally overcame me, and I couldn’t help but start digging for answers.

I believe that there is no better way to preserve the memories of the Holocaust than by collecting first-hand narratives. Unfortunately, with every passing year, there are fewer and fewer survivors around to share their experiences, making it more important now than ever to record their stories. I think about this often as I watch my sons grow up, knowing that by the time they learn about the Second World War, it will probably feel to them like ancient history. It’s been my goal with “We Were the Lucky Ones” not only to share my family’s unique story, but also to play a part in keeping that chapter of history alive and relevant, for generations to come.

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