Monthly Archives: January 2011

Finally, Fun and Games!

Some Jewish wise man once concluded that it wasn’t easy being a Jew, and so it was at our orphanage.  It wasn’t so because I was unhappy, but the things I had to remember!  Of course, there were the prayers.  … Continue reading

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Another Orphanage

While at the Couvent St. Joseph I had often thought about the problem of the multiplicity of religions.  I was faced with the fact that my family believed in their Judaism, while the nuns and the priest fervently believed in … Continue reading

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Some Came Back

The German occupation had lasted four years and was now over, but most of the family and our friends had been murdered.  I would never again see my Uncle Nuhim, his two children and their spouses (Rosa and Rudi, and … Continue reading

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Remnants of Memory

My father left me at my aunt’s house, where my mother would meet me later in the day.  She had found a new apartment, one within walking distance of my aunt’s and so, during the day, when she was working … Continue reading

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Liberation, September, 1944

On one of the first days of September, 1944, my father showed up at the orphanage and told me to pack my things.  I was going home.  My father explained that Brussels had been liberated by British and Belgian troops, … Continue reading

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The Collectors

For the children of the Couvent St. Joseph life was about to get more interesting, illustrating the old adage, “When things are bad, they can always get a bit worse.”  In truth while things became considerably more dangerous, it must … Continue reading

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My Mother Gets Work

My mother had had two very narrow escapes, and it was extremely dangerous for her to move about the city.  Nevertheless, every two weeks, right on schedule, she still came to visit me, feed me, and tell me about what … Continue reading

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My Mother’s Story, Part 2

Terror was a permanent part of life under the Nazis, for everyone, all the time, but for Jews, it was even worse, as we were the targets of their murderous rage.  Although my cousins and I were more or less … Continue reading

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My Mother’s Story (Part 1)

On one of her biweekly visits my mother told me about what had happened to her, to Ferdi, Max Fingerhut, his best friend, and my Uncle Nuhim. My mother had found work in Brussels doing I don’t know what.  She … Continue reading

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