Today was a very surreal experience to be sitting inside the press and media tent, yards away from the infamous entrance to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where the trains arrived and dropped off terrified people, forced into cattle cars, many sick and dying from the journey. And then to be separated from wives, husbands, mothers and fathers, siblings. Some going left, some directed to the right. Some for death just moments after they arrived. Others for a more protracted death, being forced to work, starving and cold.
It's where my grandmother, Chana Trenk, was sent and most likely killed the same day she arrived
I have been to this horrible, evil place at least ten times over the years, swearing to myself I'll never come back. And then my work brings me here yet again.
Today, as Europe has erupted into a miasma of anti-Semitism, the likes of which we haven't seen in seven decades, it seems right to be here to commemorate the moment 70 years ago that Auschwitz Birkenau was liberated and to be among the dwindling number of survivors who got the best revenge against their tormentors—they survived, started or rebuilt their families and helped to create a State to ensure that this never happens again.