You know you’re a Jew

Holocaust boy with hands in the air

You know you’re a Jew when you see jewelry as practical because you can use it to try to bribe the “Nazis” when they come to get you.

You know you’re a Jew when you take an extra look in a closet to see if it could also be a good hiding place.

You know you’re a Jew when everything said in German, even innocuous sentences like “Put on your seat belts because there is turbulence”, sounds like “Schnell schnell! Achtung!”

You know you’re a Jew when some part of the past branches of your family tree just ends, the leaves hanging in silence.

I know I’m a Jew because once in a while I look at my children and realize that they are the ultimate revenge to Hitler and all those like him. Beautiful, strong, intelligent, Jewish children (bli ayin hara), speaking Hebrew and learning Torah and living freely with seven million other Jews in the Jewish State. And though I am a person who believes that revenge is not the just path, I allow myself a fleeting moment of tremendous, vengeful satisfaction. Take that, Hitler.