In a large, dimly lit room lay a pile of hundreds of thousands of torn and tattered shoes. While my young mind did not fully understand, I was eager to know more. As we climbed slowly out of what a recording had called “hell,” I searched for answers; a reason why. At the end of the journey was a room, designed to look like the inside of an old shack, which was called “Daniel’s Story.” Daniel was a boy, my age, who had suffered through all of the horrors I had just seen pictures of. He was so young and innocent, but he had known pain like I could never imagine. Daniel was a victim, a poor lost soul. I left that day needing to know more. My visit to the Holocaust Museum at age eight sparked a curiosity and interest in me that would play a large part in the next few years of my life. Upon my return from Washington D.C., I began to read everything I could about the horrors of the mass genocide in Europe. I read biographies on Hitler, The Diary of Anne Frank, and any other book I could get my hands on. When I was given the opportunity in the seventh grade to write a one-act play for Flat Rock Playhouse’s competition, I, of course, chose to write about the Holocaust. My play, “A Night to Remember,” told the story of a Jewish family that had joined together for Hanukkah for the first time in years. During the course of the evening three of the characters, the father, son, and daughter, who had survived the Holocaust, shared their memories through dramatic monologues. The play took hours of research during which I studied Jewish customs and folktales, read Night by Elie Weisel, and Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl, and even learned a little Hebrew. The finished product was full of factual information and vivid detail, but it was also very boring. I lost the competition that year but was determined to fix and re-enter my play the next. After I revised the plot and did more research, I was ready to resubmit “A Night to Remember.” In the spring of 1999, I won the Flat Rock Playhouse Young Play Writers competition and my play was staged and performed as a part of Flat Rock’s Spring Festival. On the night that I was presented my award I was approached by an elderly woman. Her name was Rena Kornreich Gelissen; she was a survivor of the Holocaust and the author of Rena’s Promise. I was thrilled that she had come, but nervous as to what she would think of the play. After the performance she simply reached out a wrinkled, shaky hand and thanked me for my effort and research. She seemed pleased, and that was the only encouragement or compliment I needed. At age 13, I discovered the impact that even the slightest spark of interest could turn into something much bigger. Because of my trip to Washington D.C., years of research and writing followed. My play was seen by many, and even seen by a Holocaust survivor. It’s strange how one trip at age eight can change a lifetime.
