Vilna - Do You Recognize?

vil-rec-17:

1940.
Hanna Koziel, cousin of my father, she died from typhus in concentration camp, few days before liberation. Fellow in a middle survied the war. Accidently, I met him in Florida. Lady on right survied. Perchaps, someone knew the girl on right, she lived in Cleveland Ohio See comment.

A few years ago my daughter and I went on a vacation to Florida. We decided to go to a concert after having spent the day on the beach. As we were standing in line to get in, we were talking in Russian.
A gentleman behind us in line heard our conversation and picked up the Russian language.
He approached us and asked,
“Which city are you from?”
“Vitebsk” my daughter answered.” Actually I am from a very small town, Oshmana, near Vilna,”
I added,” You have probably never heard of us.”
“Oshmana!” the gentleman exclaimed. “Do you know a lady by the name Hanka Koziel ?”
I tried to recall this name in my mind but nothing came to me.
“I was born after the war. So I don’t know too many people from that generation. I could probably ask my mother. Tell me more.”
“I am looking for a girl. She was a pretty girl. I went out with her a few times just before the war.”
“Are you from Oshmana?” I asked him.
“No” he replied,” I am from Vilna. How I survived the war is a long story but I ended up in Cuba.
I still don’t know what happened to this girl. After the war, I tried to locate her but had no luck.”

Finally we got inside and the crowd separated us.

His story wouldn’t leave my mind. I asked my mother about this family. She couldn’t tell me much.
I called my Aunt Liza in Cleveland.
“ Koziel? She was my cousin. She was in Shtutthof, a German concentration camp,” my aunt informed me.
“Is she alive?” I inquired.
“At the end of the war my mother, your grandmother Hava, and this beautiful twenty two years old cousin of mine, came down with typhoid. They did not survive. A few days later in February of 1945 we were liberated. My cousin in her last days had been mentioning someone from Vilna.”

There was a purpose to this encounter with the stranger far away from home.

It started yet another journey back in time. A closure to a love story, so abruptly torn by inhumane, senseless cruelty, will come to be when these lines reach him-the stranger far away from home.

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Vilna - Do You Recognize?
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vil-rec-07: This picture was part of our family album. I do not know who she is. I hope maybe somebody might recognize her. If not, maybe you can help me to identify time period when this photo was taken. Thank you for any help. Sincerely, Galit Aviv Researching: Grodzensky (Trakai, Vilno), Pinewsky (Poland, Belarus, St. Peterburg, Russia), Shamsonov (Belarus, Vilno, St. Peterburg, Russia	vil-rec-08:

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vil-rec-17: 1940. Hanna Koziel, cousin of my father, she died from typhus in concentration camp, few days before liberation. Fellow in a middle survied the war. Accidently, I met him in Florida. Lady on right survied. Perchaps, someone knew the girl on right, she lived in Cleveland Ohio See comment. A few years ago my daughter and I went on a vacation to Florida. We decided to go to a concert after having spent the day on the beach. As we were standing in line to get in, we were talking in Russian. A gentleman behind us in line heard our conversation and picked up the Russian language. He approached us and asked, “Which city are you from?” “Vitebsk” my daughter answered.” Actually I am from a very small town, Oshmana, near Vilna,” I added,” You have probably never heard of us.” “Oshmana!” the gentleman exclaimed. “Do you know a lady by the name Hanka Koziel ?” I tried to recall this name in my mind but nothing came to me. “I was born after the war. So I don’t know too many people from that generation. I could probably ask my mother. Tell me more.” “I am looking for a girl. She was a pretty girl. I went out with her a few times just before the war.” “Are you from Oshmana?” I asked him. “No” he replied,” I am from Vilna. How I survived the war is a long story but I ended up in Cuba. I still don’t know what happened to this girl. After the war, I tried to locate her but had no luck.” Finally we got inside and the crowd separated us. His story wouldn’t leave my mind. I asked my mother about this family. She couldn’t tell me much. I called my Aunt Liza in Cleveland. “ Koziel? She was my cousin. She was in Shtutthof, a German concentration camp,” my aunt informed me. “Is she alive?” I inquired. “At the end of the war my mother, your grandmother Hava, and this beautiful twenty two years old cousin of mine, came down with typhoid. They did not survive. A few days later in February of 1945 we were liberated. My cousin in her last days had been mentioning someone from Vilna.” There was a purpose to this encounter with the stranger far away from home. It started yet another journey back in time. A closure to a love story, so abruptly torn by inhumane, senseless cruelty, will come to be when these lines reach him-the stranger far away from home.