Kaitlynn O'Reilly: Nice To Meet You!

Hello, I'm Kaitlynn O'Reilly, a freshman biochemistry major at Iona College.  A good friend of mine went on a trip similar to this one with her Temple.  We were on the volleyball team together, and during stretches we all huddled around to hear her story.  Before we went out to the court it was unanimously agreed that her experience left us all in awe at how profound and moving it had been for her, and we all wanted to go.  In only a few days I will be sharing this experience.  I am entirely thankful for it.

Since I've been in college (I include AP classes as a tribute to Mr.Foti with whom this started) I found a deeper appreciation for history, which is only increasing.  While lectures from passionate professors are great, first hand accounts (as long as they are available) are the best way, in my opinion, to learn history.  We may be living history now, but some people are living history: if you get what I mean.
Last Saturday, March 2nd, I had the privilege of listening to the story of survivor Stan Ronell.  My impression of him is that he is a well-humored man who is full of life.  He has high praise for teachers, his wife is one, and his message was to continue telling the story of the Holocaust.  He imparted history to us to give to others, which is reminiscent of the oral traditions of old.  Meeting someone who has seen major historical events, perhaps especially events before our time, is always a special experience.  Survivors like Stan are the influence on the hearts and minds of everyone who meets them to realize the meaning of the statement, "One person died six million times."  The faces of survivors I have met, or seen in documentaries, are the faces that I see in my mind when I think of the Holocaust.  I think of how these people could have been lost, how so many like them were.  I think of how I may have never met Stan.  Somehow listening to the stories of those who survived, seeing their faces, hearing their voices, getting a taste of their personalities, makes the loss of all the others more real.
Soon I will be standing on the ground where unfinished lives and stories were lost, where too many eyes closed forever, and I will think of their faces, survivors and lost.  Maybe if I close my eyes for a moment in reflection as I stand there I will feel all of the lost voices in the wind.