We Share The Same Sky

Rachael Cerrotti

We Share The Same Sky is an intimate portrait of family history that tells the stories of two young women—Hana as a refugee who remains one step ahead of the Nazis at every turn, and Rachael, her granddaughter, on a search to retrace her grandmother’s history. Presented by USC Shoah Foundation, this seven-part narrative series explores how the retelling of family stories becomes history itself and how acts of kindness during war can echo across generations.

  • 42 minutes 38 seconds
    Chapter VII: A Strange Way of Feeling Alive

    "There were really two plans. One, was to become something -- somebody. Two, was to go back and see who was left."

    Support the show

    11 November 2019, 7:00 am
  • 45 minutes 48 seconds
    Chapter VI: I'm Going To Jump

    "I was a citizen of nothing." 

    Support the show

    4 November 2019, 8:00 am
  • 38 minutes 25 seconds
    Chapter V: I Didn't Ask Him His Name

    I always think how different it is, what is in your head and what is in your reality.

    Support the show

    28 October 2019, 7:00 am
  • 11 minutes 46 seconds
    Chapter IV: The End Of The World

    We went to the end of the world and back. We went to the site of their murder. We went to Sobibór.

    Support the show

    21 October 2019, 7:00 am
  • 33 minutes 30 seconds
    Chapter III: This House Has Memories

    She’s 16. She should be in school. She should be with her family. Her letters shouldn’t be censored. Sentences shouldn’t be blacked out. Envelopes shouldn’t be stamped with a swastika. But I guess you can get used to anything.”

    Support the show

    14 October 2019, 5:00 am
  • 34 minutes 6 seconds
    Chapter II: Don't Make Waves

    The bridge always burned or was destroyed. There was no way to go back again. Once you made another step, you couldn't step back.

    Support the show

    7 October 2019, 4:00 am
  • 20 minutes 47 seconds
    Chapter I: Like An Oak Tree

    In the years after her death, I uncovered an incredible archive of her life. She’d left behind boxes upon boxes of letters and photographs and diaries. There were preserved albums dating back to the 1920s and letters she’d sent to lovers. There were report cards and deportation papers and love notes from her parents censored by Nazis. Then, amidst all of these papers, I found a plain manila folder. It had a note on it, written in red ink in her shaky cursive handwriting. She’d written my name.

    Support the show

    29 September 2019, 7:00 am
  • More Episodes? Get the App
© MoonFM 2024. All rights reserved.