Washington, D.C., bar mitzvah visit trip to serendipity

By CORRINE SPIEGEL

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My mom, Gloria Bacharach, and my college-age daughter Jasmine accompanied my husband Larry and me on a trip last month to Washington, D.C., where we attended a wonderful family bar mitzvah celebration.

We visited many of the memorials and institutions in our nation’s capital, including the Franklin Roosevelt Memorial with its controversial statue of him sitting in a wheelchair. As a disabilities specialist, that was of particular interest to me.

We visited some of the Smithsonian Institution museums, among them the one on American history where we saw the expected, such as the original Star Spangled Banner and the stovepipe hat that Abraham Lincoln wore the night he was assassinated.

But then, we also saw the unexpected: in an exhibit on emigrants to the United States, there was a section on Jews who came in the 1890s, mostly from Germany and other European areas. There was a wall that showed where some of those Jewish immigrants wound up, places such as Cincinnati, New York, St. Louis and even Burns, Ore. Burns got Larry’s attention because of his family history in eastern Oregon.

On a small door that could be opened to read more was the photo of a store, Durkheimer General Merchandise, with Larry’s great-grandfather standing in the center of the photo! When we opened the display door, there was a statement about Julius Durkheimer, who was the owner and also the mayor of Burns. Jasmine’s amazement at reading about her great-great grandfather was exceeded only by Larry’s excitement at his discovery of it at the Smithsonian.

That was the highlight of our first day touring Washington, but it wasn’t the end of remarkable events on this journey.

We also went to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. A flag at half mast outside the museum reminded us of the recent shooting that resulted in the death of a guard there. It gave us pause and sadness as we entered.

My mom graciously agreed to tour the museum from the safety of a wheelchair, given the crowds and emotional impact of the tour. We were about half-way through the beginning of the exhibit on the fourth floor when loud alarms were sounded, and repeated announcements were made advising everyone to go to the nearest stairwell for an immediate evacuation.

We were directed to the nearest exit where we left the wheelchair, and proceeded down the steps. Larry and Jasmine went ahead. I stayed with Mom to slowly descend the steps. The impact of the rush to move to the stairs had a profound effect on us, given where we were and what we’d just seen in the section of the museum describing Jews being herded up and forced into lines, unsure of what was happening next.

But this was different, as several young, strong men offered to carry mom down the steps, or at least to assist her as she descended the steps. One woman also offered the strong arms of her two sons to assist, suggesting we can all use a little help now and then. But Mom, being the strong woman she is, insisted she could walk down the four flights of stairs herself, at a steady and safe pace, which she did.

Once outside, police directed everyone to “leave the area immediately for your own safety.” The directed us to go to a nearby park. The irony of being herded to a park was not lost on us, given that visiting a local park was one of the first liberties denied Jews in Nazi Germany.

It was raining, Mom had no raincoat, umbrella or walker (items all left inside at the coat-check area), but we made the two-block trek to the park where we stood in the rain for an hour. We saw police with dogs enter the building. It became clear that there had been a bomb threat.

After the all-clear was given, we re-entered the building to continue our tour. Some visitors did leave, perhaps from fear or perhaps due to their schedules, but the impressive part was that crowds did fill the Museum once again. It was as if we all knew that we needed to walk inside again to take a stand against those who would harm others because of their race or color or religion.

After our visit to the Holocaust Museum, we were standing on the street waiting for our tour bus when we realized there were few people and no cars around. Looking at each end of the street, we saw police cars with lights flashing.

We were concerned, but then several police on motorcycles drove by at a fast pace. They were followed by several black limousines. We realized it was the presidential motorcade.

Imagine the impact of having just been at the Holocaust Museum and the somberness of it all, then having our spirits lifted as we saw our first black president drive by.

It was a fitting ending to a most remarkable day in Washington, D.C.

Corinne Spiegel lives in Lake Oswego.