Sonia Warshawski, who I didn’t meet until the early 2000s, is one of the most important people in my life.
That’s why I was delighted when The Kansas City Jewish Chronicle gave me the opportunity to interview Sonia and her beloved family about her 100th birthday, which she celebrated last week.
I knew Sonia long before millions of independent film enthusiasts knew her amazing story. The remarkable film shared so many details of Sonia’s resilience and life.
I would like to share my personal connection to Sonia.
She and my grandmother, Rose Zysman Murra – who was 2.5 years her senior – grew up 17.2 miles apart in rural eastern Poland. They were teenagers in the same ghetto after the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939.
“The eastern part of Poland was the worst of the worst,” Sonia said. “All of the deadliest, deadliest camps were in the eastern part of Poland. We had 18,000 Jewish people in my hometown, and only 200 survived.”
When the British military liberated the concentration camps in 1945, my grandmother witnessed a woman (Sonia) that she recognized being shot by the Nazis. She assumed the woman had died right then and there.
My grandmother settled in Boston, and Sonia in Kansas City. Fast forward 56 years, and my parents relocated to Kansas City.
My mother, Rita Murra Sudhalter, met Sonia through their shared work with the Midwest Center for Holocaust Education (MCHE). When my grandmother came west for a visit, my mother introduced the two Holocaust survivors. Immediately, my grandmother recognized Sonia as the woman she thought had been murdered in 1945.
The KCJC wrote a story about this reunion in July 2001. I was given the opportunity to write it but declined. At the time, I was a 21-year-old KU journalism student who felt I was too close to the story to tell it. I’d come to regret that decision but feel like telling Sonia’s story today has made up for it.
Sadly, my grandmother passed away of pancreatic cancer in November 2003. She never had the opportunity to get to know Sonia really well. But the rest of our family has fortunately had that chance.
During our family’s first Rosh Hashanah in Kansas City, the Warshawskis and Korts welcomed us to their home. It was reminiscent of the hospitality that Sonia described when she first arrived in Kansas City in the late 1940s. Of course, the circumstances were far different and our family wasn’t struggling, but the warmth and willingness to welcome was the same.
Sonia has attended weddings, family functions, and last spring, my nephew’s bar mitzvah, at age 99. She is the closest link I have to my maternal grandparents, and for that, I am incredibly grateful.
This woman has never met a stranger. In the winter of 2016, my wife and I were looking for a place to watch “Big Sonia” in our home state of Texas. We learned that a country church near a small Texas town would be showing it. How random. But some of the churchgoers were also karate enthusiasts. They had met Sonia when they were at Metcalf South for a karate tournament and just happened to visit John’s Tailoring.
Sonia’s life stands as a tribute to her strength and resilience. I am grateful that thousands, hopefully millions, will learn these lessons through “Big Sonia.”
My wish for Sonia, and all Holocaust survivors, would be a better world for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. But we know that the fight against antisemitism is far from over.
Sonia taught us to speak up against hate. And now, it’s our turn.