Hrubieszow was not an average community, and its members were not ordinary. Its common folks had Jewish hearts and a humanist sensibility and there was nothing that they did not establish and build. They breathed with the breath of Jewish life in Poland. Their heart beat with the heart of the Jewish people. They rejoiced in its successes and were saddened by its failures. They believed in, and fought for, a better tomorrow. They did not know they were building on a volcano. Sadly, they did not live to see that tomorrow.
Thousands of miles and eight decades separate us from Hrubieszow. We live in a different political and geographical climate. Other people and other problems. By now, our children often have trouble pronouncing the name Hrubieszow. The town, its Jewish population, and its way of life is alien to them. But those who first saw the light of day in Hrubieszow, those whose cradle was on Synagogue Street, beg, demand, and command: Don't forget us!
True to this request, we have been selecting, collecting, and adding, letter to letter, word to word, image to image, to write down and preserve for eternity that which existed and will never exist again. We bring before you today, dear readers, the Hrubieszow Memorial Book.
