We arrived close to midnight, George was sleeping, and we were very tired. In the Immigration Office, we received our Canadian Landing Cards and $5.00, the first monthly child allowance. We loved this country right away. Kate Tarnay, who sent us the Affidavit, welcomed us at the airport. She rented a room for us from one of her friends. This was not bigger, than a large closet. The next day we had to buy a bed and a crib for George. Our living condition was pretty poor.

After we registered at the Federal Government office, we received food vouchers, each 13.50$. One was enough for two weeks. I used these vouchers on three occasions only. I wanted to work, to earn money and not to depend on charity. When I applied for a visiting visa for my mother in 1959, I paid back every penny, even though I did not have to. I requested the Jewish Immigration Services to find a job for me, but they have not placed me to date.

One month was plenty enough for us to stay in the "closet" on de La Peltrie Street. We were looking for an apartment in this district, but nobody wanted to rent with a child, only in the basement. The Rubin's came to Canada to help us finding one, but it took a week until we were able to rent a one-bedroom apartment on St.Lawrence Blvd.

The apartment was on the ground floor. The backyard was very dirty. The monthly rent was $80.00 and my income was $35.00 a week! The Rubin's brought us lots of clothing and kitchenware. Vera's aunts, Aranka and Rose visited us, too, and brought linens, blankets, and towels. Kate Tarnay gave us a used, small kitchen set. Now we had a chair to sit on and a bed to sleep in. We had very few household items to start a new life, and every addition helped, for which we were and are still very grateful.

They took George to a doctor, because he didn't want to eat. He kept part of the food in his mouth and kept it there for hours. The pediatrician examined him, and found nothing wrong. The trauma, which George went through, was the reason for his lack of appetite. This was the same reason George started to talk only when he was almost three years old. But from then on he spoke full sentences.

Vera didn't have a winter coat, because it was stolen at the airport when we arrived. Summertime she did not need it; instead of the coat we bought a 3-wheel bicycle for George. Every day she took him to Outremont Park. He left his bicycle in the hallway of the building. Next morning it was gone! My father-in-law, who didn't have much money either, bought another one for him.

We had a bed, a crib for George and two empty cardboard boxes for night tables. We bought a living room set on monthly payments. This was the first and last time we bought anything on installment payments. When we had enough money, we bought for cash only.

I had a little Kodak camera in Hungary. To preserve moments of our new life, I bought a used little BROWN camera for three dollars. We look at these black and white pictures in our family album with a smile and pride. Many years later, I bought a Canon camera to augment the history of my family.

In August 1957, I applied for a job at Dependable Shoe Factory on St.Paul Street in Old Montreal. There I met a Hungarian man, Julius Horanszky. He came to Canada when he was 8 years old. He was born in the same county like me; I was his "landsman". With his help, I was hired and with his support I learned how to cut leather with a fast moving machine. I wasn't welcome by the other cutters. He protected me from the anti Semite Ukrainian and even some Jewish workers. I withstood all adversities of the first year, and happened to stay with the company in different positions for 28 years. It was a very different type of work. Instead of using my education, previous training and my mental faculties, now I was doing hard manual labor. I had to make lots of adjustments, but in a few weeks, my earnings increased to $60 a week.

Ten months later, we moved to Barclay Street. This was a much better district, than St. Lawrence Blvd. It was closer to an elementary school, too. My earnings went up to $75.00 a week, but our rent increased as well to $90.00 a month.

With the help of Julius, I became a pieceworker also. I was able to work after the regular hours on the "second shift." We had to punch our card for the regular working hours, and after that, we were "free" to work as many hours as we could. This way the company didn't have to pay overtime. The factory changed its name to Holiday Shoe Corporation five years later, and became unionized. It was the end of the old "punch card" system, and overtime had to be paid.

The factory was cold during the winter months. The building was more than 60 years old, and the heating system was very primitive. Many times in the summer, the temperature rose to C.35¡ (F.95¡). With only a few windows open; there was not much fresh air. When I was cutting red, or black suede, my whole body turned red, or black. I smelled like a leather factory. Nobody wanted to stay close to me on the bus..

Standing all day long on my feet, I developed varicose veins in both legs. I had two very painful operations four years apart, easing the pain for a while. After the operations, I received about 150 injections. In spite of all, the varicose veins and the pain with it came back. Even today, I have pains and my legs looks like a map with lots of rivers.

Piecework meant rushing all the time. Going to the bathroom meant loss of time and money. Short lunch times, little rest, standing all day on my feet and working on the very noisy clicker machine were my daily routine.

The factory produced mostly winter footwear. I earned much less during the "dead season", namely: November, December and part of January. I had to look for a second job to make some extra money. I did delivery for a dry cleaner, and drove a taxi (with permit), mostly at night. I tried to become my own boss by selling ladies cardigans, beauty supplies on my free time, but I wasn't a sales oriented person, and did not succeed. I didn't want to loose my steady job for a risky future, and gave up the idea of becoming my own boss.

On the way to the factory, I learned English from a little pocket dictionary. One new word a day was my goal. Twice a week I went to evening school to study English and later French. Every other day Vera took the same course. Working, having a family life and sleeping only a few hours was very taxing. After supper, when I left for the school, George was crying, he wanted me to stay at home and play with him, but learning the language was a very compelling reason to leave.

Meanwhile we bought a used, small sewing machine. Vera started to make alterations. Taking care of George was her priority, but on her free time, Vera made a few dollars. She was working hard. Her customers were nice. All of them were happy with the quality work, mostly with the low price, they had to pay. For a short time, she was sewing overcoat linings for a coat factory. The pay was nine cents for a piece! Three dollars a day, but we never complained and were happy to meet ends.

I never even had a bicycle in Hungary.

In 1959 I bought a used, secondhand car, a blue Chevrolet for $350. It was a beauty for us. In the next few months, we were busy to repair and paint it. I spent $300 dollar on repairs, and I sold it for $350 four years later.

A white Chevrolet was my next, paid $800 for it. After a nice paint job the car was like a new one. I didn't enjoy it for long; it was stolen, gone forever.

The price was only $500 for a 1963 big two door Pontiac. The car was running well. One day Vera found some big holes on the floor. It was not worth repairing it, and I sold the car for $600 in 1968.

I wrote a check for $4.250 for a brand new Pontiac Laurentien. In the first year everything went wrong with it: stalling at every stop, even at the toll booths on the Auto Route, the heater hose busted, the radiator developed a hole, and a few more defects. I was a weekly visitor at the dealer for the next 50 weeks. One year later, the car was perfect. We used it for eight years, and sold it for $1.250 to a new driver.

I made a mistake with my next car, a two-tone Chrysler Plymouth. It had a fantastic strong engine and transmission, but its body was like paper. The fenders started to rust a year later. I was fighting with the dealer for three years, then I sued him and the Chrysler Company in the Small Claims Court, but I lost the case. Six years later, I sold it for a few 100 dollars.

My late father-in-law was right: "stay with General Motors product." I followed his advice. A used, blue two-year-old Pontiac La Manse was my next car in 1982. Now we had air condition in the car! The previous owner used it for long distance travel. The price was right, less than $4.000. We had it for four years, when the body started to fall apart. I sold it for $3.000.

We decided against buying used cars in future. A four cylinder Buick Century came to our garage in 1987. The colour was also dark blue, our favorite colour. Big and comfortable, it was a pleasure to go on a long trip: New York City, Toronto, Ottawa and Florida. Because I always took good care of my car, I was able to trade it for a good price: $3.500.

My present car is a black 1995 Buick Regal. It cost $21.000, less the trade-in. We love this car indeed, as it has everything we need, and a little bit more.

Our cars gave us lots of opportunities to go places. George drove them sometimes, when he went skiing, or visited Joanie. Later, we bought a yellow "road runner" a Ford Capri for him. He loved it, but used it very seldom. He walked to the hospitals, or took the bus to McGill University during his first years of medical studies. When he married in 1979 and moved to Toronto, he took the Capri with him.

Montreal had a large Hungarian "colony"and we discovered some other people we knew from the camp in Kornajburg, like Ervin Reiner and his mother Margit. It was a surprise to find Joseph Komlos, my good buddy from the Russian camp. He changed his name from Kohn to Komlos after he came back to Budapest. This was the reason I couldn't find him as Joseph Kohn. Vera also found her childhood friend Eva Kertesz, her husband George and her lovely daughter Georgina.

We went to the beaches or riverside in the summer with our friends. They all had small children; George had many good playmates. Upon arrival, a long picnic table was set up, and all kinds of good food came out of the baskets. Everybody ate what he or she liked. Sometimes I didn't even eat our own food. We went to Missisquoi Bay many times, the Canadian side of Lake Champlain, close to the USA border. Apart enjoying our car on trips we took, I saved traveling time to my work place and to the stores.

My sister was very disappointed because we didn't go to Israel. She stopped communicating with us for a while. Only my mother answered our letters.

In 1948 Israel became a state. They had no other choice, but to immigrate to Israel because of a three year wait for a U.S. visa seemed out of the question. In the first few years they had a very difficult, and hard life. My mother had heart murmur, controlled with a mild medication, but her condition never improved. They became members of the Kibbutz Ein Gev on the shores of Lake Kineret, and under the enemy's position on the Golan Heights.

In 1958 we invited my mother to visit us in Montreal. She never saw Vera, neither George. Her brother, Alex Weinberger of Brooklyn, offered to pay half the price of her ticket. I would take care of the Canadian visa, while she would apply for a passport.

This was a simple thing but not for her! My mother was an honest person. She told the Israeli officials in the Passport Office, that my father divorced her. According to the existing law, only a living husband could have applied for a loan or a passport. My father was furious when my mother asked him to do so. He had to declare his intention in front of a rabbinical court that he wanted to divorce. This kind of religious ritual created a very big problem in communist Hungary. In spite of all, he had to do it. This episode took a long time and delayed my mother's departure from Israel to Canada. Early June in 1959 she received the visa for one year.

Waiting for her at the airport gave me the feeling that I am turning another page in my history book. A tired, nervous little lady walked out with a small luggage. For a long time, there was no end to crying hugging and kissing. Seeing me alive after 16 years, Vera and little George the first time was a big strain on her heart. On the way home, George asked: "Dad! Is she really your mother? You don't look like her?"

Yes! She was my mother, many years older, than her age. Nineteen very difficult years of marriage with my father, hiding with my sister in the farm during the war and three years in Europe as a refugee took a heavy toll on hear health. She had an operation too in Germany.

After a few days of rest, we introduced her to our friends. We invited them into our home and went with them to the beaches until the weather permitted. Our friends invited her also into their homes. She had a good time.

In August my mother's brother Alex Weinberger with his wife, Sara and their daughter Joan came to Montreal from Brooklyn to see my mother. That was some reunion! They saw each other in 1937 when he immigrated to USA. Twenty-three years is a long time!

Before my mother left for Israel, she visited Alex in Brooklyn. Alex was a very intelligent and a very good man, my mother was very close to him. Alex was helping his mother who was living in Kisvarda, Hungary. He sent her money and lots of parcels, until the Hungarian Government cut off diplomatic ties with the USA.

My mother was a heavy smoker. I did not like it; she should not have smoked at all, because of her heart condition. When winter came, we had to supply her with very warm clothing. After the mild climate in Israel, the Canadian winter was difficult for her.

Among us, she was happy, but sometimes she felt sick because of her heart condition. She never stopped talking about Borka, and her four children. Two daughters: Hannah and Hava, from her first husband, Geza, whom she divorced, and two sons: Rony and Ejal from her second marriage with Asher Schwartz.

The parents were working in the kibbutz; my mother took care of the children. They were very close to her; she felt that without her care, they couldn't live a normal life. Even when they grew up, my mother had a major influence on them. This situation built up a friction between her and my sister. Later, when they left the kibbutz, she moved out of my sister's house, and in the last three years of her life she was living in her granddaughter's home with Hava and her husband Eli.

My mother was a great help for us, cooking and baking. She was George's best Hungarian teacher. She was home with us. Vera loved her, made her dresses, and bought her all kinds of clothes. After nine months away from the other side of her family, she became very restless. In March 1960, with tears in her eyes she returned to Israel. We were very sorry, to see her leave, but this was her decision.

When she arrived at the kibbutz, Borka surprised her with the news: they were going to leave the kibbutz. They didn't like it anymore. It was not a simple move to make. While being a member of the kibbutz, they had everything they needed, but owned only their personal belongings. My mother wanted to stay, but she wasn't a member, She had to leave, too.

They rented a small apartment in Petach Tiqva. Asher had a job as a truck driver of a big oil company in Haifa. Borka was working in the house for well-to-do peoples as a dressmaker. They paid cash for her work. Momentarily it was good, but when she retired, there was no pension income. We sent to them parcels and money many times. My relation with my sister improved.

My mother could not come for George's Bar Mitzvah; instead, I went to see her during my summer vacation. I arranged the trip, but my flight was delayed for nine hours in Montreal, because of an engine failure. I arrived in the Tel-Aviv Airport after midnight. I was surprised to see my sister, her husband, her two sons: Ronny and Ejal, the two daughters: Hannah and Hava all waiting for me. My mother didn't come, it was very late, and for her it was too much excitement. The last time I saw my sister in 1944, she was a young girl. Now, in 1968, after 24 years, she was a grown-up woman with four children. The airport witnessed many family reunions; this was probably one of loudest and the most touching one. It lasted only one hour!

Arriving in the house, my mother was waiting for me with tears and open arms. She aged a lot, became more nervous and smoked more than before. In the following next two weeks we talked a lot and ate a lot. Borka and the children wanted to know everything about Vera and George. I wanted to get acquainted with them. Sometimes everybody was talking at the same time, but we understood each other well. They took me to the beaches, famous places and every evening to some friends or relatives. The country was new, the stores were poorly supplied, but everybody was happy.

I don't have the word expressing the feeling, when I had to say good-bye to everybody, especially to my mother; Wondering if I ever will see her, or my sister again? Yes, in the summer of 1972 all three of us went to Israel for three weeks. When my mother became ill I went to see her again in the winter of 1977. She was already too sick to come to George's wedding.

She died on July 13, 1980 at the age of 75. I rushed to the funeral in Petach Tiqva, and was sitting Shivah with my sister. I was busy greeting and talking to the many visitors, family members and friends of my mother. I came home very sad, missing her and her warm letters. In the Appendices at the end of my Autobiography I shall refer to my mother once again, the way I remember her.

After more than a year in Yugoslavia, Vera's father and his family were able to immigrate to the USA in 1958. His two sisters took good care of them. They were helping him and Elisabeth to find an apartment in New York City, in the Bronx, and furnished it completely.

Starting a new life when most people are already planning retirement is a hard task. Gabe was nine years old when they left Hungary; he enrolled in a Bronx school. Elisabeth went to work in the same factory where Ari and Rose were working. My father-in-law took a job at the Otis Elevator Company. He loved his new country, and was happy with the improved living conditions, especially with his beautiful, well kept cars. They drove down to Florida, and many times to Canada to visit us. He loved the ocean, and strolled nearly every day on his favourite place, on John Beach, mostly when he retired. This was the place, where he wrote beautiful poems about his family, the birds, the flowers and the nature. He suffered his first heart attack there.

We spent many summer holidays together. Thinking back, I have fond memories of him. He was a very smart, intelligent man. He loved music, played the violin. I respected him for his good advice. He loved his family. He retired when he was 70 years old.

He had another heart attack, and many other problems with blood circulation in his legs. The bypass surgery helped only for a short time. In this bad condition, he came to Montreal for Joanie and George's engagement in the same year. This was his last visit to our home. The first surgery on his leg did not help him, he had to have another one in 1979. It was unsuccessful, and he passed away in February, in the same year. He was 75 years old.

He missed his only grandson's wedding and graduation. He would have been very proud of him. I am thinking of him many times and from time-to-time I read his old poems.

Elisabeth was a petite fragile person. Since the time of liberation from the concentration camp, she was sick many times. She had cancer, developed a bad case of osteoporosis. On top of all the sickness, she had emphysema. She suffered for many years, and died when she was 75 years old.

Gabe went to school in New York and became the "spokesman" and translator for the whole family. He was a caring, loving wonderful son to his parents, a loving brother to Vera and a most wonderful brother-in-law anybody can have. Gabe graduated at the Pratt Institute, became a very talented Industrial Designer. He has his own designing company. He married and has three children: Amanda, Heather and Justin. He divorced after 20 years.

Beside his work and taking care of his three children, he spends lots of time looking after his old aunt, Aranka. I am very close to him.

George attended kindergarten at Bedford School. He finished four elementary grades there. The school experimented with a new system in math. He was chosen to be in this special class. This system later became the standard curriculum in every school. His marks were among the top 10 in every classroom.

George was an independent boy in the second grade already, and walked to school and back without his mother! He was a very honest boy. He wanted to go alone to the barbershop on Barclay Street, a few houses from our apartment. The haircut cost that time $0.90, I gave him one dollar. When he came back after a nice haircut, he said, "You know Dad? I had so much hair, I was afraid the barber would ask more than $0.90. He didn't. I was so happy, I gave him ten cents tip."

George was a very active boy, too. He could play all day long and a little bit more. One day he didn't have anybody to play with. Between the two buildings, everybody had a clothes line. George went down to the driveway, holding on to the rope, swinging slowly first and faster after. The rope jumped out from its pulley. George fell down on a metal toy car and cut his back. The wound was deep and a few inches long, bleeding heavily. We took him to the Jewish General Hospital. More than a dozen stitches later, we took him home. The wound is still visible on his back. - He presented many more "surprises".

Our friend suggested a small village, called St. Gabriel de Brandon. A nice French Canadian couple had a little motel on the lake. Nobody spoke English, we didn't speak French but we got along well. We rented a double room for one week, with three good meals a day. Gabe came to stay with us this summer. We all had a great time. It didn't cost much, that time we paid only $32 for a week, for the family! Next summer we returned again. We were happy that we could afford this simple vacation.

Later we discovered a nice place in the Laurentian region, called Sunset Lodge. It had a dozen rooms, a very good Hungarian kitchen, small swimming pool, a lake and family evening entertainment. We spent many Saturdays, Sundays and two weeks vacation there. Sometime the whole family came from New York, too. Everybody was happy and had a very good time.

Next summer we rented a house in Val Morin, where George learned how to swim. I tied a big rope around his waist and he was floating first in the cold water, but a short while later swimming alone already. This experience came very handy later, when he went to the summer camps. He became an excellent swimmer and a very good sportsman. George spent the next two summers at the Wooden Acre camp for young Jewish children. The camp life was good for him, with fresh air good food, sport and lots of other activities.

George was "a new kid on the block" in the Van Horne School. He didn't know anybody, and was very unhappy initially, missing all his friends, but they came to our house to play and study with him. In this school, he was one of the best students.

We were living on Bourret Ave already, when one day I came home from the factory, as usual, very tired and found Vera in a panic. George was 11 years old that time. He had very high fever, an upset stomach and pain in his joints. The light was bothering him, too. We called Dr. Singer, his pediatrician. He came to our home and diagnosed viral meningitis. We rushed him to the Jewish General hospital.

The next two weeks he was kept in the Isolation Unit being very sick. We worried a lot. He missed school for a few more weeks even after hospitalization. Dr. Singer advised us to take George to a warm climate in the winter for a full recovery. We did it happily. This was the first time we ever went to Florida. Two weeks vacation was very beneficial. We came home with a very healthy George. For follow-up, the next few years he had to go for EEG tests. All of them came out negative. We had a very exciting life with him for sure.

An important event was coming on May 4th, 1968: George's Bar Mitzvah.

The Young Israel of Montreal Synagogue opened the door for our guests. All of our friends of Montreal and relatives from the USA came to this event, all in all more than 100 people. George said his part of the week's Haphtarah very well, and made a short, and to the point speech. A nice lunch followed the service, and then we invited the out of town guests for dinner to an elegant restaurant.

The major winter sports for George and his friends were: toboggan, skating and hockey. They went many times to Beaver Lake on Mont Royal, sliding down on its slop with his toboggan.

I was a good skier in Hungary, and even with the simple equipment, I loved skiing. I suggested to George and Jeffry to take up a new sport, skiing. After many proposals, we took them to the Laurentian Mountains. I rented three pairs of equipment, and gave basic instructions. Vera was watching, when we went down very carefully on the novice slope a few times. By afternoon, they were skiing without me on the intermediate slope. They learned fast!

For the next few years, I took George and a few of his friends to Avila, to La Chantaclair, La Reserve, Jay Peak in Vermont and many other places. All day I was skiing alone, I was too slow for them! Two summers in a row, George went to Pine Valley camp, owned by the uncle of Jeffry They were counsellors, and we had to pay only half the regular fee. This was a great learning experience for him, to learn water skiing, canoeing and many outdoor sports.

I had to find a partner to ski with. Vera's childhood girlfriend, Eva Kertesz had a lovely daughter, Georgina. She wasn't married then, and she became my good partner for many years. After my two varicose vein operations, it was a big effort to ski anymore. Also, she moved to Toronto, and I didn't have a partner to go with. This was the end of my skiing career.

We were living on Bourret Street since 1965 on the 4th floor. We had two bedrooms, big living room and a good size kitchen with a window. George had his own bedroom with nice furniture, an air-conditioner and entertainment equipment from Sanyo. He continued his studies at Northmount High School. Although study came first for him, sports and other social activities were important, too. George was always ambitious and hard working, like his parents. Every summer he found some work. For two years, he was counsellor in a Laurentian summer camp. Then he worked one summer in the Jasper Park lodge, and two summers in Homowak Lodge, one of the hotels in the Catskill Mountains. None of them were an easy job.

In 1975 George was accepted by the McGill University Medical faculty to our great pleasure. Our lifestyle changed, as our aim was to give George every possibility to study in a quiet atmosphere. He paid part of the school expenses with our financial support. It was our pleasure to give him a chance to go to England, Florida and Cape Cod. He kept us abreast with his studies and friends. We communicated with each other as a close-knit family.

He met a lovely, educated Jewish girl, Joanie Birnbaum, who was studying occupational therapy, also at McGill. They were engaged September 1978. She has very fine parents and two younger sisters. Stanley, Joanie's father was a well-known pharmacist until his retirement. He is a fine gentleman. Faigie commands a good decorative talent. They are very caring parents and grandparents.

Joanie and George got married on May 4th, 1979 at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. It was a splendid affair. I don't remember many details because of the excitement. The food, the flowers, and the orchestra were excellent. Several people greeted the newly wed couple, wishing them all the best. George made a nice speech, and thanked the Birnbaum family to open their home and their heart and to welcome him in their family.

Three days after the wedding, another big event took place: George's convocation ceremony at Place Des Arts. He became Dr. Vertes! We, the Holocaust survivors, hard working immigrants became proud parents; our son fulfilled our wildest dream.

Joanie and George moved to Toronto, where George did his specialty training as an Internist, Cardiologist. We helped them to move to their new place. Without him, our home became very quiet; we were missing a son, all the discussions, activities and the closeness.

George was working long hours in the hospitals and studying at the same time. Joanie was working at the Toronto Sick Children's Hospital as an Occupational Therapist. They rented an apartment for a short time, and then bought a lovely cottage in Thornhill, north of Toronto. We visited them many times, and they came to Montreal, too.

-Gregory was born on May 29, 1986. When they brought him home from the hospital, we were there. We visited them many times. In 1988 Joanie and George bought a house in Toronto's Forest Hill’s district, on Rosemary Road. This house had all the old charms and lots of floors to go up and down. George was already an expert handyman, and here he used all his talent and imagination to repair and improve their home.

-With Joanie's decorating talent, a bright and lovely "Pink"" room was ready for a beautiful, little girl, Jaclyn. She was born on August 3rd, 1989.

-The Parents put together a large room for the youngest son's arrival. Alex was born in the harsh winter of 1995, February 15. We were in Florida this time. Vera had a bad flu, but we flew to Toronto not to miss this important event. I was holding Alex during the circumcision ritual. Jaclyn and her cousin Alexandra were watching the whole ceremony. When Jaclyn saw the cutting action, she yelled: "What are they doing with my little brother penis?!"

Joanie is a very good mother; taking care of the household, looking after the children, watching over their study. She is excellent in her professional work, and does volunteer work, too.

George is a devoted father. His clinical work in the Hospital and his private office is always busy. With his leadership every member of the family participates in all kinds of sports: wind surfing, skiing, hockey and horse riding and many other activities as well.

We took every opportunity to go to see them, celebrate birthdays, anniversaries with them, and exchange greeting cards. It was our pleasure to remember these occasions all the time. I think we tried our best.

On every occasion, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, we always received cards and gifts from our relatives, and we reciprocated. Our family circle was very small. The Holocaust, the "killer wind" took away so many members of our family. Only a precious few left! Our "new" car played an important role in keeping in touch with our relatives in New York. There was no superhighway as yet. The trip took 12 long hours, but we wanted to have close contact with them. When we spent our vacation in Sunset Lodge- Val Morin, or in the Catskills, they joined us, as I mentioned before. We had so much fun together. We met later Gabe, Aranka and Elizabeth in Saratoga Spring. From there, we brought them to Montreal for vacation.

The footwear industry closed for vacation the 2nd and the 3rd week of July. We had no choice, but to take our summer vacations in this busy high season. In 1962 and '63 we went to the Catskill Mountains to the Fleischmann's Hotel. It was an old place with a large swimming pool. The food was excellent the evening entertainment was good. The Rubin's came too. Their son, Andy was a little older than George, and Steven was a newborn baby. We were happy, the children had a very good time, except, when they went berry picking and came back with thousand mosquito bites.

Vera received some restitution money from the German Government in 1972. We wanted to give George a graduation present and decided to spend this money on an Israeli trip. The trip was very exciting. My sister and her family didn't know Vera or George and they in turn didn't know the family in Israel. We discovered Israel and members of Borka's family in three weeks. This visit was unforgettable.

I had to go home to Montreal to work. Vera and George took a detour to Budapest for a week. My father and his wife Margit were happy to see George after 18 years.

In the summer of 1973 George worked very hard as a busboy in Jasper Park Lodge. This summer we upgraded our vacation spot and checked into the famous Brown Hotel, also in the Catskills. This was the stepping stone for Jerry Lewis' stage carrier. We kept busy by exercising, eating, dancing and enjoying our family's visits from New York. The next two years George and his friend Jeffry were working as a bellhop in the Homowack Lodge. The lodge was close to us, and he came to stay with us on his day off.

We took a nice trip to Spain, touring Madrid, passing Gibraltar to Toremolinos. In Madrid, we loved the Prado Museum and the Palace. We enjoyed Seville, Granada and Cordoba.

To celebrate our 25th Anniversary in 1977, we gave each other a gift: a trip to Hawaii! The flight was long, but the hotel, the beach and the ocean was beautiful. For one week, we rented a small car and went all over the island. On the way back, we spent a few days in Los Angeles. After a trip to Disney Land, Vera became very sick; she picked up a stomach virus. We had to return a day earlier.

We took an unforgettable organized trip in 1984 originating from New York: one week in London and one week in Paris. In New York and mostly at the airport I had to carry two heavy bags, and I pulled my back. Waiting at the Kennedy Airport eight hours for the chartered plane to arrive, just made my pain worse. Upon arrival to London, soaking in the large bathtub was the only cure. We walked almost all the time and saw the beautiful collections of many major museums. The first day, like in every other city, we took a City Tour, and then we went on our own to see the most interesting places. We had a room in the elegant Forum Hotel.

In Paris, we were almost the first guests in the new Nicco Hotel, overlooking the Seine River. Everything was within close distance; again we walked a lot. Our walking shoes were new when we left; we came home with well-worn ones. We didn't look for cholesterol count in the famous French pastry shops.

The Louvre was the major attraction; we spent a full day there, and were the first to go in and last to leave. We visited different museums every day, the Opera House, the Rodin exhibition and churches. This trip was our best. We really loved Paris in the summer!

Our four day visit to Washington City was a memorable event. To see the museums, the White House, the Capital Hill and all the memorial monuments gave us a great pleasure to remember.

We went to Israel in 1995 to visit my sister and her growing family. This was the first time to put flowers on my mother's grave. It was a very emotional time for me. It was a pleasure to travel to the Dead Sea, to Eilat and to see my sister's son Ron and his family in the Moshav. Since my last visit in 1980, I was happy to see a beautiful, modern, ever growing Israel. We had a very happy time to remember.

From here, we went to Hungary. Since I left Budapest, this was my second trip to the country. We visited my father's well kept grave. Vera's mother was buried in Dombovar in 1940. When we visited her grave, we were sorry to see the neglected condition of the cemetery. Dombovar, like many other cities in Hungary, has no Jewish resident, and nobody takes care of it.

We do not have any relatives in Hungary anymore. Our old friends welcomed us with open arms. Seeing Budapest, like a tourist, we went to see museums, the Parliament, the Opera House and many other famous places. Budapest is a nice city to visit. It was very touching to see our old home in Buda.

1996 was the year, when we visited our friend Ditta Wollach in Lugano, Switzerland. With her we went to Zurich, Geneve, Locarno, Ascona, Chamonix and the 4.807-meter high Mont Blanc and many other places. With our rented car we drove in the 11.6-km long tunnel between France and Italy. We spent a few relaxing days in Ditta's family-owned hotel in Megev in the French Alps.

Our next trip was Italy. We immensely enjoyed Florence and Venice, the most interesting cities we ever visited. Our hope is, that we will able to go back again in the future.

We said good-bye to Barclay street and on May 1st, 1965 we moved into a two bedroom apartment on 4870 Burette Street on the 4th floor. This was our home for the next 16 years. We bought two air conditioner units, one for the living room, one for George's bedroom.

Vera continued to work for a high-class ladies store to do alterations. She spent three days in the store to do the fittings. She took home the dresses, coats, suits etc. to work on it. It was not easy taking care of George, the household and to do the work, too. Many days she went to bed close to (or after) midnight because she had to finish the alterations. The income was good; Vera was and is a perfectionist. More and more customers wanted her work.

She was working in this boutique for six years. She became ill with hepatitis. The following year she had a hysterectomy operation. She stopped working in the boutique. It was a difficult 18 months period for her to recover. When she was well again, the Magnasonic Company hired her, which later became Sanyo Canada. She had less income, but the stress was less, too. She was working regular hours. Vera was working there for the next 19 years, until the company moved to Toronto.

She was 62 years old when she happily retired, and became an early pensioner. From here on both of us could join the Golden Age, and be able to spend and afford the winter in Florida.

In 1967 Canada celebrated her Centennial. St. Helen Island became the major site for the International Exposition, called Expo. Every nation built its own pavilion, each of them were different. The USA erected a large globe, now it is used for different exhibitions. The French pavilion was very big and special, one of the nicest. Today it is housing the very busy Casino of Montreal. The whole city was one big construction site: Decarie Expressway, the Metro and many other sites. The city was full of visitors. Queen Elizabeth came to open the Expo. Kings, Presidents, many famous and lots of not so famous people came to Montreal. All our relatives came to visit us, too. Our home became a hotel, and I was running a "limousine service."

I had been working as a cutter in the shoe factory. I made many suggestions to the company to derive more profit by saving material. I was the only person in the factory to whom the old boss was talking. He was happy with my suggestions, and rewarded me once with a $100 bonus.

Our foreman died suddenly. They couldn't find anybody whom they could trust to run this important department. The boss asked me to take over the position. I was hesitating. I didn't want to take it because there were a few very aggressive union leaders in that department. They were French Canadians and my limited knowledge of French made me worried, that I would not be able to communicate with them, or they would not cooperate with me. They and the management promised me all the help I needed.

After 13 years of hard physical work, I became the cutting room's foreman.

Looking back, I am sorry I took this position. At the beginning, I had constant fights with the union leaders, even with the workers. I was one of them before, now they had to take orders from me, I represented the management. They did everything to make my life miserable mostly in the first three years.

I was unable to sleep. A five-day job became six days work. My job included supervising the production, teaching new cutters, looking after the stock room, too. I had to calculate the material and the labour cost for every style, starting with the samples.

Everybody was on piecework; I tried to be fair to the workers and to the company, too. With the old calculating system of productivity, it was a difficult task to negotiate with the representatives of the union. Applying my knowledge from my Hungarian experience, I devised a new calculating system, completion of which took a year. When I presented it to the management and to the labor union, they all agreed to implement same, and they gave me a free hand for one season to test it. It was a success; my system became the standard at Bootlegger Company. There was no reason for tough negotiation, constant fight and distrust any more. From then on, the workers trusted me very much. Many times, they asked me to calculate their earnings.

The International Footwear Manufacturers Association sent two Industrial Engineers from their London head office to study my system. This became the basis for every footwear manufacturer. I received a special bonus for my special work.

Time came for the computer revolution.

Bootlegger Co. was the first to computerize the whole factory from selling to shipping. One group of programmers was working in the sales department, two groups made the necessary changeover in the manufacturing department. The cutting room was the first step. The programmers didn't know anything about footwear; they needed my expertise for all the technical details. At the same time, I started to learn the basics of the computer. I love to learn new things and the computer was a big challenge for me. A year later, the whole factory changed over to the computer system.

Nine years passed and I was tired of work in the production line. I was looking for a new position inside or outside at Bootlegger. The owner of the company offered me a position in the office to do the cost calculations and to teach other people how to use the computer. I suggested my old enemy, the President of the Union to take over my job, as a cutting room foreman to his greatest surprise. He accepted it. - The next five years I was very busy in the main office.

Work in the office was a very different task and in a different environment. Part of my work was to calculate the quantity of material requirement for every style. I prepared the cutting and fitting technical instructions in French. Everything was computerized. In order to learn and practice as much as I could, I went to the office an hour earlier and used my lunchtime, too. I had constant fights with the Sales Department; they wanted to sell the footwear at the lowest possible price.

For the last 30 years, the company's operation was profitable, and in a position to buy new machinery and install assembly lines. Marvin, who was the youngest son of Mr. Krasnow, graduated as an engineer and had no experience in the footwear business. He ventured into many money loosing purchases and expenditures. It did not come as a surprise when the bank audited the company's books, and called back the loan immediately. Holiday Shoe Company was unable to meet the outstanding loan and had no choice but declare bankruptcy in August 1984.

The trustee, who took over the property of the company, had to sell off all the footwear, material, and all the equipment to recover some money. They opened a discount store in the West part of the city, and I became the manager. I did not know, that I had a hidden talent: I proved to be a very good salesman. January 31st 1985 the trustees closed Holiday Shoe Factory including the store for good.

After working twenty-eight years in this place, doing my job like I own the factory, I received only a one week salary and not a penny of severance pay. The bosses kept their houses, their cars, and their Canadian and U.S.A. investments. The law calls it: "Bankruptcy Protection." It did not protect me at all!

I was 62 years old without a job. I mailed my beautiful resume to close to 50 different companies without any success. When I was working, I had many job offers, but now nobody, friends, or strangers wanted to give me a chance. My hope, my bank account and my spirit were at low ebb. I was a little depressed. We just bought our condominium and I was hoping to work till the age of 65, save enough money to complete the furnishing our home and then to retire.

Only one person restored my confidence: Gabe, my brother-in-law. He told me not to lose hope. Should I ever need help, he will be behind me! I am lucky to have him.

The Kate's Sport Company hired me to sell their over-production and returns. What did I know about textile or ladies style? Not much. I became an "expert" in a short period of time. The store was a big success. The lease expired after a year and we closed everything. I was organizing "after-season" sales in their factory for many years with even bigger success. Sometimes I hired more than a dozen sales girls. I enjoyed doing it. My French was good enough, and with some knowledge of computers, I got a job, working for a sewing machine importer for the next two and a half years.

We analyzed our financial situation, and decided that the time had come for retirement at the age of 65.

Besides taking Vera to and from work, I was busy fixing our home. It was new, but there were many things to repair or improve. During my lifetime, many people were helping me. In order to reciprocate I took part in many different organizations, like the Holocaust Center, participated in the Israel Day, Combined Jewish Appeal, March to Jerusalem, and during the Museum Day I also offered my help. Lately, I do some volunteer work in the Cummings house for Jewish Seniors.

I was part of many committees in our condominium building, like the Nominating committee, whose task is to find suitable owners to become Administrators. (Board of Directors). I received many letters of appreciation for my volunteer work. I was the first person to receive the Merit award from the Le Vicomte Condominium Association in year 2001.

I took a detour to Budapest after my mother's funeral, who died on July 13, 1980. Vera insisted to visit my father. He had good relation with Vera and when George was born, he became a generous grandfather. We left Hungary in December 1956, and had regular contact with him. I sent razor blades, antihistamine and other thing to him. We were sending postage stamp to each other's collection.

Twenty-four years passed since I saw him, but he did not change much. I hugged him and kissed Margit, his wife, who became much older. They invited me to a dinner. My father started the meal with brandy and continued with wine. The medication went down with beer. We took a taxi to downtown Budapest to visit the newly opened famous Vigado.

After a short tour, my father said good-bye to me and left us. Every Thursday he had an appointment with a dermatologist for the last several years, and my short visit was not a good enough reason to miss it. Margit was begging him to skip this unimportant visit and spend a few more hours with his son. He did not say anything, just shook my hand and left. I was speechless watching him to go. Margit was very upset and sorry for his rudeness. I knew I would never see each other again. He turned on the corner, never to look back. I was not an important person for him; I was only his son.

This episode reminded me of the time I was visiting him in the hospital in 1949 after his gallbladder surgery. He treated me like a stranger, not like a father greeting his son.

Margit died in the same year, 1980 from complication of a hip surgery. She was a good person. My father retired a few years later and organized a "Meals on Wheel" program. My sister Borka came over from Israel devoting her time and spending her money to help him to cope, and to organize his household a little.

They had lots of arguments, as he was a difficult person to live with. She just could not take it any more, and a month later she went home heartbroken.

I did not stop to correspond with him, sending whatever he asked for, even USA money. My father hired a Romanian woman for cleaning and cooking for him. She was visiting her sister in the same building. She left her family in Romania. She was smart enough to see the helpless old man's situation and took advantage of it. Walking, shopping, watching TV together, then she moved into the apartment and registered herself as a resident. My father was 85, the woman was 55 years old. He fell into this trap, made a new will, and signed everything to her.

My father died of liver ailment on January 16, 1990. We were not home when a telegram arrived announcing his death. I called his friend Stephan, who told me, that my father arranged the funeral in advance and he was buried the day following his death. He lived without his children and died without them.

With Vera, I visited his grave site in Budapest in May 1995. Facing their tombstone, I felt sorry for him, as well for myself. A chapter of my life came to an end.

The Bourret Street was a nice, clean district when we moved there 16 years ago. George was living in Toronto and now we could move away from the schools he attended. Both of us had steady jobs, and we wanted to live in a better location. The choice in the rental market was very limited, and the rent was expensive. The developers in Montreal started to build condominium apartments. We decided to buy one on 6800 Macdonald Ave, the corner of Vezina Street. They called it Le Vicomte.

There was not even a hole in the ground, when we made a down payment in the summer of 1980. We bought a two-bedroom condo on the 9th floor, with two full bathrooms, a large dining room and living room and kitchen. A dishwasher and in-house washing machine was our wish for a long time. The indoor swimming pool, party room, card and exercise rooms, were a big change to our life style.

Almost every day before I picked up Vera in the office, I stopped to see the construction. When they finished the 9th floor, I was happy to see our future home. At the end of 1981 we had to dish out the balance of payment. The mortgage rate was very high, more than 20%. We used all our funds and paid cash for the condo, and the appliances.

The big moving day was January 20, 1982. It was the coldest day of the year. Living in Bourret Street in the last 16 years, we were happy to move into our own home. We worked hard. In spite of being very tired by the end of the day, I was too excited to sleep. Next day our good friend's son, Alex Gross volunteered to help us unpack and organize the apartment. We used our old furniture, but we had to buy a dining room set. Slowly we completed our home.

The walls, the windows, the garage space, the balcony; all those were ours. We met new friends in the building and we kept our old ones, too. It was a new life style for us. We were visiting them and they came to our home. We had great company around the table. The homemade cake and coffee just made it better. Helping each other was always (and is) my pleasure. We respected each other's privacy.

When I retired and was staying home, I became very close friends with George Siklos. Many days we walked and talked a lot and went out to eat lunch together. I learned about his life, his business and his many trips around the world. He was a very sick man with leukemia. The cancer spread into his liver and he died. I was very sorry to loose him.

In our garage, I met Duci and Vojko Benedik shortly after they moved into the building. Both of us had parking space on the 2nd level. Many times, we arrived, or left at the same time by coincidence. Duci was the president of K.A.R., a big machinery tool import company and Vojko a highly educated and well known retired architect. Duci lost her husband eight years ago, and Vojko's wife died three years prior to moving in.

We became very good friends with them and part of their big family: their children and grandchildren. The Benediks have been wonderful and caring people. They offered us to spend a few winter weeks in their Florida apartment. We celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and holidays together. Duci and Vojko attended Gregory, our grandson's Bar Mitzvah in Toronto. The Benediks have the keys to our apartment and we have theirs. Hard to find such generous people like them. I called Vojko "My Brother", because I've never had one. We were really like one. I've never got tired listening to his life stories, his working experience and his advice.

At the end of the year 2000, Vojko became ill. All the tests told the sad result: he had a growing tumor in his brain. An operation, treatments and all kinds of medications have not helped. Vojko never lost his humor, his hope. His main worry was not himself, but Duci, his love. We were there when he died peacefully in his bed on May 4th, 2001. I wrote a Eulogy, but I was not strong enough to read it at the funeral service, but I am enclosing it in the "Appendix".

My own physical condition is also affected by age and perhaps the hard times I went through during more than seven decades. Apart from the varicose vein, I had an appendix operation, and for the past several years angina condition.

A very pleasant surprise visit came just in time to cheer us up. My sister's son, Ron, his wife and four beautiful daughters visited us in July, 2001.

From Calgary we took a three day Brewster tour to JASPER, in the Canadian Rokies. We spent very good times in BANFF, seeing the Canadian Park, the Bow Valley, LAKE LOUISE, the famous Emerald lake, the Chateau and the Athabasca Glacier. The view in the Rockies was breathtaking!

With our good friends, Ari and Joe Gabor all the sightseeing in the clean and busy VANCOUVER was a great pleasure. I can write a long story about the panoramic view, the parks, the Gastown and the market. We took a day tour to VICTORIA, and the Butchart Gardens. A trip to WHISTLER and the Shannon Falls made us even happier.

This was a trip, we will never forget!

These last events bring the story of my life up to date. Prior to writing an Epilogue, I would like to review the many troubled years of mine with a degree of positive assessment. A voila!

Yes, there is a positive side to my story, too. It should give hope to others, going through the tribulations of life. Without this hope, life would not be worth living.

I survived:

- The Forced Labour camp (In spite of "You will die before the war will be over!").

- The Russian POW camp (I do not lie in the grave dug for me).

- The danger of attempted escapes.

I revived:

- I crossed the Ocean to my new country, Canada that my destiny brought me to.

- I established a family, built an egg-nest, which I am proud.

- I am blessed with descendents: three grand children. My son George and my daughter in law, Joanie share my gratitude for enlarging our family tree.

Destiny dictated many of my moves, but if I had a chance to start all over again, surely I would be smarter to do things differently.

But certain decisions and events I would borrow from the past:

- I would marry my Vera. Nobody else would be a better wife and friend for me.

- I would have a son, like George. No other baby would give me the pleasure of taking him home and see his progress day by day to the end of my life.

- I would not give up the dream of having three wonderful grand children:

- I would chose Canada again, and gladly forgo crossing the Ocean on a dream boat, rather fly again.