He pointed out their house and told us where Aron had moved to in Strzyzow. Aron, he said, had been a good man, who even gave boots to one poor peasant who worked for him. Evgenii had told us that Jewish houses generally had doors opening on to the street, so that they could have small shops in them, while the Poles' homes had doors on the sides of their houses. Often, these were bearded up by the Poles who moved into them after the Jews were murdered. And sure enough, Aron's house had a front entrance, a door leading nowhere, with no steps.
Genealogical research involves time, dogged detective work, and luck.
This set in motion a series of connections that will lead us, in another trip, to the gravestone of Rochelle's great-grandparents. Sophie put Rochelle in touch with Harry Langsam, a Strzyzower now living in Los Angeles, who had emigrated before the World War II and had translated the shtetl's yizkor book from Yiddish to English. From him, Rochelle learned that many of the Strzyzow Jews were sent to one of the first death camps, Belzec, in 1942. Now Rochelle and Chaim Ben-Zvi are in direct communication through email, and she has found out that the Ichels were major milk producers for Strzyzow . . . . . I restored 18 Mazevoth till I find out the Mazevoth of my parents.