I was born in 1941.  In 1941, my parents and I were taken to the ghetto in Czortkow; we were there until 1943.  From 1943 until 1945, my family went into hiding.  My uncle Leon was able to find a farmer willing to hide us, he had a lot of connections.  My father had gold and money to give to the farmer to hide us in their fruit cellar.  My father would sew gold in the lining of his coat, into the soles of his shoes, you could put them into your shaving brush, the brush part unscrewed.  My parents and me, my father’s father, my father’s two sisters, Frima, and Trana Winter went into hiding in the fruit cellar.  But as an infant, I cried, I needed to be fed.  The Germans regularly came around patrolling with their dogs; everyone was afraid that my crying would give us away to the Germans.  My father bribed the farmer and his wife, Hanetchka, to take me into their house and treat me as their child.  I grew up as a Christian girl for two years, from two to four years old. 

 

I remember every night praying to the picture of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall.  I also have a memory of going out of the house, walking around outside barefoot, being very cold and damp, seeing an old man with a beard walking around.  I didn’t realize it at the time but that must have been my grandfather.  

 

I remember being very scared, I don’t remember any happiness at all. There was nothing about that at all.  I don’t know if I knew that these were not my parents, I’m sure that I did.  But I never saw my parents.  When they felt it was safe, they would sometimes leave the cellar.  I think my parents would peek when I was walking around outside.  They were not able to be near me, it must have been heartbreaking for my mother to see me the way I was, cold and dirty.  My mother never got over this time.  Later, she never really acclimated to the American way of life either.  She always worked, worked, worked.  

 

When the war ended, the farmer’s wife did not want to give me up, my father had gold and apparently paid them to return me back to them.  I was a mess, my nails were not cut, my head was full of lice, I was undernourished, I was very dirty from the lack of being bathed.  I think Hanetchka said she didn’t want to give me up because she wanted more money from my father.  She periodically would say, “I can’t take care of you all,” my father would then give her more money.   It was very difficult for me to be with my mother again, she was a stranger to me.  

 

After liberation, we didn’t know what to do or where to go.  There was no food to feed me. We went begging for bread, flour, and milk from farmhouse to farmhouse, we slept in empty houses for shelter.  Because of a lack of food, I was placed with a stranger for three weeks.  Henochka did not want to take care of me while my parents found a place to live. 

 

We had no home to go back to, nowhere to go.  We hoped to go to America to start a new life, my grandfather and two aunts there.  In 1946, we went to a Displaced Persons’ (DP) camp in Bremen, Germany.  In April 1947, we left for the United States.  I had an uncle in New York who said he would sponsor us to come to America.  

 

My uncle in Vienna was tried and found to be innocent for being on the Judenrat.  He went on to manufacture men’s and children’s clothing.  

 

My grandfather and my two aunts went to live in Israel, to Bnai Brak.  My father’s heart was in Israel, but we left for the United States because we had an uncle who sponsored us to come to New York.  Apparently, we didn’t go to Vienna to live with my uncle there as there was friction between my mother and my uncle’s wife. 

 

My mother learned how to sew and got a job in the garment district of New York.  My cousin in Detroit owned an auto parts factory, she inherited the factory from her father, and we moved to Detroit.  My father apparently had a hard time working for a woman, both of my parents worked full time there.  They socialized with other European survivors and had their own circle of friends.   

 

It was a stressful time for my mother, she was nervous, angry, and unhappy.  She had two miscarriages here; she seemed to have little patience.  I was alone a lot, always by myself. 

I was home a lot, my mother was possessive of me, she was always tired and unhappy.

 

When I was seven, I went to the Yeshiva (Jewish religious school) for three years; I didn’t have the English language skills in the beginning.  At ten, I went to public school, which helped my English skills.  This also helped me teach my mother English.

 

My mother wanted me to learn three things, to learn English, to drive a car, and get an education.

 

My family was religiously observant in the beginning, they seemed to become less observant, this seemed related to being angry at why the Holocaust happened.  

 

I later attended Central High School in Detroit, then Mumford.  I went to Wayne State University.  In those days, girls seemed to have only three choices, to become a social worker, a nurse, or a teacher.    

First of all, absolutely remember to carry on with the legacy of Holocaust remembrance, be aware of anti-Semitism, be proactive, be involved, to teach their children, and grandchildren about what happened so that it should never happen again.  Anti-Semitism is still here.  We used to live around Greenfield and Seven Mile Road, we had a neighbor who told us, Hitler should have killed all of you.  There’s always, undercurrent of anti-Semitism. My parents had an accent, people felt that we didn’t belong here, we shouldn’t be here because we were different.  I lost my accent, because we came to the United States when I was younger.  I understand Yiddish but can’t speak it.  Yiddish music is in my heart, I love hearing the Hazzonim, beautiful old Jewish cantorial music.