It is ignorance. It is hate. It is taught.
It was 1965. My parents had recently moved our family to Skokie. I was 9 years old. During my brief life, I had learned about a pope while seeing his televised 1963 funeral and asking my father, “What is a pope?” He replied, “A pope is a very important man in the Catholic Church.” I also experienced what it was like to lose a U.S. president to an assassin’s bullet — and to sit on the bimah at our synagogue as the kiddush girl that very Shabbos evening while trying to absorb and comprehend the rabbi’s words and thoughts about the nation’s loss. I do not recall hateful or prejudicial rhetoric during these times.
At that time, I had a friend named Mary Jane. She attended the local parish school. We enjoyed playing together. One day we were making mud pies. I was having fun. Then Mary Jane took me by surprise. She slammed a rock onto the back of my hand. I cried out and asked her why she had struck me. Her reply: “Because you are a dirty Jew!” She had such rage on her face.
I was confused and hurt. I ran home. My parents comforted me. They told me that we do not hate others, and we do not make such statements. My parents said nothing against Mary Jane’s faith; they did say that these beliefs are sadly taught at home.
Things were never the same on my block. I never had anything more to do with Mary Jane. She never apologized for hurting me.
Now I have learned about Squirrel Hill.
It is ignorance. It is hate. It is taught. It is enabled by the highest office holder in the land.
It is time for a revolution of love, tolerance and respect; all this can be taught, too.
— Amy Lewitz, Lincolnwood
