Patricia Martellotti
SANTA BARBARA, Calif. (KEYT) – Not long ago, millions were taken from their homes — and never came back.
“Bombs were falling, so as a six-year-old, I was constantly terrified,” said Holocaust survivor George Rusznak.
“The war became closer and closer, and we knew the Germans were marching up from North Africa,” said Holocaust survivor Josie Martin.
Eight decades earlier, half a world away, the Holocaust tore through their childhoods.
George was growing up in Hungary.
Josie was living in France.
Both were targeted for being Jewish.
“That period in my childhood — always hungry, always cold, and almost always scared,” George recalled.
“The last thing my parents told me was never to tell my name… because our last name was Levi — L-E-V-Y — a dead giveaway,” Josie said.
Her parents made an impossible choice: Josie would live — even if they did not.
A nun took her in, hiding her while her parents stayed behind.
“I cried, thinking I might never see them again,” she said.
Across Europe, George’s survival depended on his mother’s courage.
“When we were told to start moving, my mother turned to a guard and asked him to let us go. A miracle happened. He said okay,” George said.
Hungarian Jews were forced into ghettos.
Freedom vanished.
“The people who lived in that building — nobody ever came back. We don’t know exactly what happened to them,” he said.
Twice, George’s mother was captured.
Twice, she escaped.
“We survived because my mother didn’t just hope. She did something audacious. She believed she could succeed,” he said.
George’s parents could not leave Hungary.
Josie was forced to leave hers behind.
Both were spared the concentration camps — where six million Jews were murdered.
“I was reunited with my parents in September 1944, just before my sixth birthday. For the first few days, I wouldn’t speak,” Josie said.
“The neighbors hoped they would survive — but they didn’t do anything. My mother did,” George said.
Years later, their paths crossed at the Jewish Federation of Santa Barbara — two survivors bound by memory, and a promise to keep it alive.
Today, they are among a dwindling number of living Holocaust survivors — voices rising from history’s silence, warning: never again.
“Aristotle said … education of the mind without education of the heart is no education at all,” George said.
Now, a new virtual exhibit ensures their voices endure — allowing anyone to ask them anything.
During a demonstration, one question surfaced: “Did you forgive the Germans?”
“I don’t hate the German people. I don’t hate any people,” George responded.
“We digitized stories of those no longer with us — and filmed those still here using AI technology,” said Cyndi Silverman, CEO of the Jewish Federation of Santa Barbara. “It’s essential to keep telling these stories — and to show what happens when hate goes unchecked.”
“It’s a tremendous opportunity for people to interact with me — whether I’m here or not,” George said.
George and Josie hope their voices will live on — not as echoes of sorrow, but as light for the living … guiding us long after the last witness is gone.
“If we can feel … the way the people we hate feel … maybe we’d be more understanding — and less inclined … to cause harm,” George said.As the number of Holocaust survivors dwindles, two voices in Santa Barbara refuse to let memory fade.
George Rusznak and Josie Martin were children when war tore through Europe — ripped from homes, separated from family, and forced to hide simply because they were Jewish.
“We survived,” George says, “because my mother didn’t just hope — she acted.”
In France, Josie was taken in by a nun after her parents made the impossible choice to send her away. “I cried, thinking I might never see them again.”
Decades later, their lives intersect at the Jewish Federation of Santa Barbara — two survivors bound by resilience, remembering those who never returned.
Now, a new virtual exhibit at the Jewish Federation of Santa Barbara uses artificial intelligence to preserve their stories, letting visitors ask them questions even after they’re gone.
It’s a way of defying time itself — ensuring that when the last witness is gone, their voices still answer.
“It’s a tremendous opportunity,” says George. “Whether I’m here or not, people can still hear what I lived through.”
Two survivors. One promise: never again.
“If we can feel … the way the people we hate feel … maybe we’d be more understanding — and less inclined … to cause harm,” George said.
George and Josie hope their voices will live on — not as echoes of sorrow, but as light for the living, guiding us long after the last witness is gone.
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Jacob Holiday, 44, holds a sign while standing along U.S. Highway 36 in January near Stewartsville. The sign reads ‘Love is all U need’ a reference to a song by the Beatles he intends to sing in Washington D.C. 
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