I think what I remember most about my Zeide is that he was so happy to be alive and he enjoyed even the least important things in life. He tried to pass on his knowledge to us, the traditions of a lifetime lived to the fullest. I also remember how he and his only brother who survived the Shoa, continued to speak Idish (Yiddish) with one another. My Zeide also taught it to his children and when my cousins and I would hear them, we didn’t understand and we saw how he would read the newspaper Di Presse, which was the last local Idish newspaper in Argentina.
Lastly, I’d like to quote something I once read: “It was IIdish whom they once heard speak of a foreign country named Argentina. It was in Idish that they fantasized about and dreamt of this land of liberty, and it was in Idish that they laughed and cried on the ship during the long journey that brought them to this place”.
In memory of Abraham Lachter.