Book Talk: “Inheritance: Love, Loss, and the Legacy of the Holocaust”

In Sterling Memorial Library, Charlie Scheidt ’64 and filmmaker Kat Roher discussed their new book, Inheritance: Love, Loss, and the Legacy of the Holocaust. The memoir tells the story of Scheidt’s family’s escape from Nazi-occupied Europe, the cycles of inherited trauma that followed, and the continual labor of rebuilding, remembering, and loving in the aftermath of tragedy. Their collaborative research spanned sites in Germany, Holland, and France, breaking traditions of familial silence and sparking unexpected connections.

The talk was moderated by Dr. David Simon, Director of the Genocide Studies Program. He led an initial discussion with Scheidt and Rohrer, then opened a Q&A session with the audience.

Scheidt did not always want to be an author; for five decades, he had led the imported specialty food company, Roland Foods, that his father founded in Germany. Towards the end of his mother’s life, she told him about a trove of historic documents hidden in their armoire, containing vital information about his parents’ escape from Nazi-occupied Europe. This was significant for Scheidt, whose parents rarely discussed these experiences with him.

Scheidt embarked on a decade-long journey to uncover his family’s past, joined by filmmaker Kat Rohrer. The two met unexpectedly; Roher was a producer for a Roland Foods video shoot, and they struck up a conversation once Scheidt learned she spoke German. Rohrer is the granddaughter of a Nazi officer, though she never knew him. Despite this, she had always carried fascination and guilt about her familial ties to the Holocaust.

Rohrer and Scheidt shared a deep curiosity and devotion to storytelling, and their friendship was instrumental in the book’s depth of quality.

“Had I looked for her, I don’t think I would have found her,” Scheidt said. “Complete serendipity.”

“I think it was meant to be,” Rohrer agreed.

The two traveled across Europe to retrace the Scheidt family’s steps, visiting his father’s old office, his cousin’s Montessori school, and his grandfather’s grave. Scheidt described the despair inherent to unearthing the extent of his family’s grief, trauma, and alienation. At the same time, he was struck by the generosity he and Rohrer experienced.

“We met so many people who were so helpful to us in all the research,” Scheidt said, describing those who aided not only in gathering information but also in maintaining Jewish historical sites to preserve historical memory.

This work broke a tradition of silence observed by Scheidt’s family and many refugees. His parents’ history impacted his daily life, though they rarely discussed it; “little things,” like his parents’ unfamiliarity with the rules of a baseball game, their insistence that he learn multiple languages and be prepared for unexpected upheaval, and their habit of speaking German at home, all pointed to how drastically his parents’ prior lives differed from those of their American-born peers. In this environment, Scheidt longed for answers, sensing that loss shaped his family’s habits and values.

“I grew up in a world of silence, with a desire not to focus on the past because it is so painful, and to protect the next generation,” Scheidt said. “I wish [my parents] had spoken, but I understand why they didn’t.”

“It takes time for people to process their trauma, formulate, and bear witness,” said Roher when asked why it took so long for this story to come to light. “It’s just a matter of time, and I don’t know if you can speed that up.”

For Scheidt, time was of particular significance in the present day, when Holocaust survivors are still alive, and atrocities continue to displace families across the globe. Uncovering his family history was an urgent project, undertaken as much for the benefit of himself and his children as for that of refugees everywhere.

“The urgency was real,” he said. “Time is marching on, and the immediacy of it is important.”

Through his work, Scheidt hoped to close the distance between readers and the lives of refugees, building empathy and understanding for groups experiencing othering and condemnation.

“I did it because nothing is more important than giving meaning to loss and suffering,” Scheidt said.

“Without it, the oppressors write the story.”