Partially concealed beneath a pile of beige, tan and taupe nylons, the bright red strip of cloth caught my attention as I rummaged through Sally Finkelstein Horwitz’s bedroom drawer in search of a stray, five-dollar bill that never made it into her wallet. For a twelve-year-old, Honest Abe had real purchasing power.

As I reached for the peculiar fabric, my hands began to tremble. It was a swastika armband, with “January 15, 1945” permanently inked onto it. From overhearing conversations among Holocaust survivors, like my mother, I knew it was the date of her liberation by the Red Army from the ammunition-making concentration camp in Poland operated by the German industrial giant HASAG.

I wanted to question my mother about the discovery.

“How did you get this? Did you pull it off the arm of one of your captors? Was he dead or alive? Did you obtain it in the American Zone of Occupation in Germany? From a memorabilia dealer in the US?”

But at that moment, I didn’t have the guts. A few days later, when I went to retrieve it and confront her – gone. I must have left a clue or two of my not-so-clandestine lingerie intrusion.

On that same day in 1945, the American-born man she would marry celebrated his 23^rd birthday. Yes, January 15 was the date of Morton Horwitz’s liberation from the womb.

After the American civil rights marches of the 1960s, our family duet of freedom became a trio. January 15 also marked the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Morton and Martin.

On that date, in ways formal and informal, my parents honored his memory and embraced the attainment of freedom and equality through nonviolent means. Dr. King was assassinated in 1968. My father died peacefully 48 years later.

By the time of her passing in 2014, my mother had shared her story of survival and renewal with dozens of school groups, students at the Yale Divinity School and gatherings of educators and civic leaders. Seven years later I would follow in her footsteps, intertwining her story with mine as a 2G, second-generation Holocaust survivor, and sharing it with students visiting the Zekelman Holocaust Center in Farmington Hills, Michigan.

I concluded each presentation with words shared by my mother with middle- and high school students of the 1980s and 1990s:

“I consider myself very lucky to have come to America. We, who are survivors of the Holocaust, appreciate the freedom and opportunities this country has offered to us. I hope that those who have been born here or came here, like me, as a refugee can treasure and strengthen our democracy. We must resolve to protect this wonderful country, and its freedoms, from those who may attempt to bring it down. May God bless America.”

“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Happy liberation day, mom. Happy birthday, dad and Dr. King.