Tommy - Bedrich Fritta

I was born in Israel in the twilight of that innocent age when the word

"Sabra" was still a source of inspiration, of heartfelt pride. The early years of my education were in a remote desert community filled with small-town intimacy. The word Holocaust was uttered on

Remembrance Day with reverent awe during solemn ceremonies and municipal gatherings attended by a few remaining survivors. Six million.

Fear. Gestapo. Cremation. Guilt. Loss.

Orphans. Death. Survival. Harsh words, incomprehensible to the ears of a small child living a comfortable life under free skies. Even when I grew up and made my way in search of the right questions, the Holocaust remained locked away, shrouded in its hallowed entirety in mourning and lamentation. Then, as if by a small miracle, this children's book crossed my path.

A picture book drawn in the Terezin ghetto for a boy, a son, by his father, as he stood on the threshold of death. Pictures of you drawn by your father. Simple drawings, filled with humor, depicting the daily life of a three-year-old child in a normal world. Color sketches on crude paper, whose light, hope, faith and love, reflect and are reflected in each line and stroke. Here was the essence of a man who chose life, even as his feet sank further and further into the Valley of the Shadow of Death. A man who chose hope and faith and love, and the beauty of each fleeting moment. Who chose life until the end.

And herein lies the charge - the message of a man-number who refused to allow the digits seared into his flesh to erase his identity, but rather used them to illuminate the beauty and the wonder within.

His light, which shines from these pages, reveals a new and different way of understanding. I feel deeply privileged to have been touched by the light of this work and grateful for the wisdom within it.

Eyal Kaplansky

Jerusalem 1999

Fabric bound hardcover, with cello printed dust jacket. Inside illustrations on cream paper.

Yad Vashem publishing

Book measures: 29cm (w) 23cm (h)