Jewish Press of Tampa

Mark Wright: Mission to aid Ukrainians in his own words


Mark Wright of Tampa with Ukrainian refugee children at an office complex in Poland where they and their families were being housed. Wright brought the refugees pizza for dinner.

Mark Wright of Tampa with Ukrainian refugee children at an office complex in Poland where they and their families were being housed. Wright brought the refugees pizza for dinner.

After watching what was going on in Ukraine, Tampa attorney Mark Wright felt he had to do more and joined a Jewish Federation of North America mission to Poland to aid Ukrainian refugees.

The mission was for three days, but he arrived a few days early and stayed a few days after to volunteer. Once home, he wrote a detailed journal including a story of a trip he made to Russia and Poland while in law school in 1988. He wrote that when his tour group stopped at the Birkenau concentration camp they were told they only had time to visit for five minutes. But he defied the leaders, staying longer and taking time to “see with my own eyes what happened there – to bear witness and say, ‘Never Again.’” He felt he owed it to his ancestors who died in the Holocaust. He wrote, “For me, Poland in 1988 was about death and darkness, about communism and despair. Not anymore.”

In the March 25 Jewish Press, posts on his Facebook page were included in a story about his activities. The following are excerpts of Mark’s journal, edited for space and omitting some information included in the previous story.

Mark cried when he read the note attached to a sweater in a pile of clothes sent for the Ukrainian refugees.

Mark cried when he read the note attached to a sweater in a pile of clothes sent for the Ukrainian refugees.

Saturday, March 19: I arrived in Warsaw, Poland for the second time in my life. Warsaw was not the same. Not even close. The air was chilly, but the city and its citizens were warm. I checked into the Westin Hotel with four huge bags of clothes, medical supplies, and toys. Supplies donated with love from my family and friends. I was wearing my blue and yellow ribbon – the colors of the Ukraine flag. From the moment I got off the plane, people would look at me and my ribbon and would say thank you or just touch their chest and smile.

Sunday, March 20. At breakfast, I met an American who had been in Warsaw. He told me that right across the street there was a group of Ukrainian refugees staying in an office building called the Atrium that had been converted into rooms for families. He also told me about what was happening in the Warsaw train station. Soon after, my guide Derek arrived at the hotel. We walked across the street to the Atrium. The Polish guard asked us who we were and what we were doing there. With my straightest face, I had Derek tell him we were with the Wright family humanitarian mission. He let us in. We took the elevator to the second floor and found the person in charge…. He said there were about 200 refugees staying here and they had room for 100 more. They survived primarily on donations. There were mostly mothers and children. If you are male, unless you have three children under the age of 18, you had to stay in Ukraine to fight. We asked them what they needed – water, canned food, and cleaning supplies. I am pretty sure they thought they would never see us again. They were wrong.

Mark Wright, left, gathers with Ukrainian refugee children at a humanitarian center in Poland.

Mark Wright, left, gathers with Ukrainian refugee children at a humanitarian center in Poland.

We left the Atrium and headed on foot toward the train station. [On the way, the men stopped at the Nozyk Synagogue – the only surviving prewar Jewish house of prayer in Warsaw – and wound up praying in a minyan, then they went to the train station.]

As we walked to the train station in Warsaw, I was amazed by how normal things appeared. People everywhere were just going through their normal everyday routines. Restaurants and coffee shops filled with people. We got to the central train station and things were not normal – far from it. Poland has taken in over 2 million refugees. Polish people have opened their homes and welcomed family after family from Ukraine.

The train station has been transformed into a refugee relief center. I saw Red Cross volunteers. I met men and women from Warsaw who had taken time off from their jobs just to help. I saw folks giving out sim cards. I saw people sharing food for those getting off the trains from the border and toys for children. I also saw the faces – the beautiful, but sad faces of countless women and children who had fled their homes, their lives, and made their way to Warsaw. Some with a place to go. Others with just the hope of finding shelter and safety away from their homeland that they love and long to return to as soon as possible. I was overcome with sadness. At the same time, I was touched by the love and humanity shown to the refugees by the Polish people and the countless volunteers.

[After leaving the train station Wright and his guide bought water, cleaning supplies and canned food and delivered it to the Atrium.] I asked what they were having for dinner. They told me the canned food that we had just bought. I said, “Not on my watch.” and promised to bring pizza for everyone that night.

We walked back to the hotel. It was a beautiful day for a walk. Then it wasn’t. We turned down Walicow Street. Standing right in front of me was an old brick wall, a part of the Warsaw Ghetto wall. One of the last remaining sections of the wall to the Warsaw Ghetto. This trip was about saving lives. It was to be about sharing warmth and love to the Ukrainian people. However, I had to pause and remember who I am and where my family came from. I put my hand on the wall and thought of my “Jewish family” that had fought and died on the other side of this wall. Their only crime is that they were Jews. Never Forget.

[Later while delivering 35 cheese pizzas to the refugees, Wright wrote:] I met a mother of five. I met her beautiful 7-year-old daughter, Vita. In broken English, she told me her story. How she was able to escape her home with her kids. How she left every possession behind. How she left her family and friends. I didn’t ask about her husband. I didn’t want to upset her. I could see the strength in her eyes to carry on for her children’s sake. I could also feel the pain in her heart.

Monday March 21. [Wright volunteered with the Jewish Distribution Committee (JDC)] I started the process of unpacking dozens of suitcases filled with clothes, new and old. After about an hour of unpacking, I came across this letter attached to a beautiful blue sweater: The story of this sweater – In 1980, at the age of 17, I met Marit, a life-long friend from Norway. We have been friends for 41 years now. In the 1st year of our friend-ship, her mother knitted this sweater for my mother. My mother passed in 2015, and Marit’s mother passed in 2021, I believe our mothers would be pleased to know that this sweater, made with love, is going out into the world to find its way into the arms of a new owner … in a gesture of love, to envelop you in warmth and friendship. In solidarity with the brave people of Ukraine, wear this in good health and safety.

I sat in my chair and cried. Soon after, mothers and children started to come in to pick up clothes. … An elderly couple came in. She was talking to me, but I could not understand any of the words she spoke. But I could see in her face how appreciative she was for what we were doing for her and her husband. Then this happened – I walked out to get another suitcase to unpack and when I came back into the room, she was holding my adidas jacket that I had taken off and set on the table up to her husband’s chest. Thankfully, he was much bigger than me and she put the jacket back on the table along with the $2,000 American dollars in my pocket that I had brought to buy toys that afternoon.

Tuesday March 22 [Wright took a 5-hour bus to the Medyka border crossing, about 50 miles from Lviv in Ukraine.] The border seemed surreal … There were reporters everywhere speaking all different languages. On both sides of the narrow road, there were booths filled with people from all over the world. The booths were filled with food and water, with clothes, and with baby supplies. There was even a tent for animals. I saw an Israeli medical tent. I saw the Jewish Agency and JDC at work helping people. As I made my way to the fence, I was overwhelmed with sadness and grief, but at the same time, filled with hope by all of the people who stood up and were helping to welcome the refugees coming into Poland.

When I reached the border, I just stood there and watched mothers and children, families, the old and the young walk into Poland. Some were carrying a suitcase or a small bag. Others were carrying their cats and dogs. Others came with nothing. I thought to myself, how was this happening?

[After giving away clothing he had brought from Tampa, Wright ended giving away the suitcase they came in as well, then headed to a small hotel about 45 minutes from the border.]

Wednesday, March 23 [Mark visited a humanitarian aid center in Przemysl – a place where thousands of Ukrainian refugees come straight from the border and stay a few days, hoping to find a place to go.]

I would describe it as organized chaos. I walked from room to room. I saw thousands of people sleeping on cots or on the floor. I saw the World Central Kitchen making food. I saw a small kindergarten for children to play. I saw a pharmacy. I saw their faces and heard their stories. I gave out toys and hundreds of soccer balls. We had to make two trips to a nearby sports’ store. I also took hundreds of Polaroid pictures that I gave to the kids. Needless to say, I was very popular until I ran out of soccer balls, toys and film.

After we left the humanitarian aid center we drove to Korzcowa to visit more refugees. Thousands more people that were forced out of their homes, now in a foreign country hoping and praying for peace. Peace of mind – peace for their beloved country.

Thursday March 24, Wright headed back to Warsaw, but on the way made a stop in Lublin and wrote:]

For the second time in 34 years, I stood alone in Poland at a concentration camp. This time at Majadanek. From 1941 until 1944 over 80,000 Jews were murdered here (although some say the number was much higher). Their only crime – they were Jews. [At the camp, Wright met up with a group of Israeli students, who let him hold their Torah and told him he was “family.”]

Back in Warsaw, I took my covid test and surprisingly, given the number of hugs and high fives I had given out, I was negative. It was time to go home.

* * *

With your help, we delivered clothes and medicine. We delivered pizza. We delivered soccer balls and toys. Mostly we delivered love and smiles. You may never see their faces – you may never hear their voices – but oh, how you have touched their lives.

It was quite an emotional journey. Certainly, a week that I will never forget. Whatever small difference I made, I got back tenfold with appreciation and love. I am proud that I stood up. I made memories and friends that will last a lifetime.

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