Veronika Schwartz

A Survivor's Memoir

 

Preface

Ever since I returned from Auschwitz, in May 1945, I felt that I should write down what had happened to my family and myself—all my experiences. Just the thought of it brought so much pain and tears. Trying to remain sane, I kept postponing it. Today, it's been over 50 years since Hitler's planned genocide against our people. I am compelled to write it down the way I remember. Time is running out. I am 67 years old. My sons, whom I have tried to bring up as normally as possible, and with whom I have tried not to talk about the past, are today grown men. And, they have a right to know their family history. Therefore, I dedicate my memoirs to my wonderful sons and grandchildren.

Veronika Schwartz
Montreal, 1994

---

I was born on June 6th, 1927, in Hungary, in a small town called Kisvárda, county of Szabolcs. The total population in 1941 was around 15,000. The Jewish population was around 4,000. At that time, babies were delivered at home with a midwife in attendance and probably some family members. I heard from my uncle Miklós Ösztreicher that my mother had seven pregnancies; four remained alive.

The name of my father was Schwartz Mór. My mother's name was Ösztreicher Irén. My brother, Zoltán, was the eldest, born November 19th, 1923. My sister, Klára, was two years older than me. My sister, Éva, was two years younger than me.

My parents had a general store on Fö utza, which means the main street. They sold furniture, yard goods, shoes, and ready-made clothes. They worked very hard. Life wasn't easy. As far back as I could remember, I felt sorry for my mother. Both of her ankles were ulcerated, but she never wanted to hear about an operation, fearing that it wouldn't be successful and that she might end up worse off. She just kept bandaging them and staying on her feet all day, trying to do her best to please the customers and, of course, her family. She did the cooking before she went to the store.

Our house was located on Vár utza 10. From street level, the entrance was a few steps up. A cousin of mine, Leonard Schönfeld, told me that the front of the house was previously used as a grocery store. Most homes had entrances only from the backyard. When we entered our backyard, the house continued with perhaps five or six apartments that were owned and rented out by my parents.

Our house was very modest. We had no electricity and no running water. We had kerosene lamps that did not give enough light. I remember having trouble doing my homework. I probably needed glasses. Listening to someone's advice, I placed my schoolbook under my pillow, hoping that whatever I had to memorize would sink into my head. Perhaps it worked. I did well at school, except in math. That's where I cheated. A friend of mine did my work. At that time, I didn't realize that I had only cheated myself.

In our kitchen, we had a beautiful ceramic stove. It was light blue with flowers, and we were able to use wood or coal in it. We were very happy to have that. In cool weather, we filled it up with coal in the evening so the house didn't get too cold overnight. I tried to get up early in the morning around 5:00 a.m. to put some wood on the fire so that by the time my mother wanted to cook the stove would be ready to cook on. The dining room furniture was beautiful; gray and white speckles and solid wood. On Shabbat, my father got together with the principal from the Hebrew school and they studied the Talmud in that room.

Growing up in an Orthodox family, of course, we kept kosher and had separate dishes for dairy and meat. On Friday afternoons the store was closed early enough to be sure that we would not be late in lighting the Shabbat candles. The table was beautifully set. My father went to synagogue with my brother and when they returned we would all sit down to have our Shabbat meal. Sometimes my father brought home a guest who was very poor and who would have supper with us. Other times my grandparents came over. We had no telephone and there was no need for my grandparents to call. It was always a joy to see them. Together with my Aunt Margit, Uncle Ernö, and Uncle Miklós, Friday night was a joyous evening. After supper, neighbours dropped in just for dessert. We were happy. We were a family.

My grandparents from my mother's side lived on the same street at Vár utza 28. My grandfather's name was Ösztreicher Lajos and my grandmother's name was Schönfeld Eszter. They had four children: Margit, who was separated from her husband and who lived with my grandparents (I remember my Aunt Margit spent a whole night with me in the hospital when I had my appendix out. She used to come into our store to help out.); Irén, who was my mother; Ernö, who also lived at home (I don't know if he was ever married. He worked hard delivering parcels. He would help out my grandparents with whatever he earned and would also help them out with the housekeeping, all of which was very much appreciated since my grandparents had sold their grocery store and needed the extra help.); and Miklós, who was their second son. I don't remember seeing him too much at home. Mostly he came to visit. He was a businessman and had a beautiful office with several secretaries. Whenever he saw me passing by his office he would run after me and give me some money to buy myself a pretzel.

My grandmother I adored. She was always happy to see me. If there was no one home when I came home from school, I went straight to my grandparents' house. It was my second home. My grandmother offered me everything she had in the house: fruit, cake, lunch, and supper. Whatever I wanted she would give to me. We would sit in the garden and talk or go for short walks. I helped her take the clothes off the clothesline. I never got tired of admiring the beautiful knick-knacks that she and my grandfather had in their home. Beside my own immediate family, these were the people I loved the most.

My grandmother had a sister who came to visit once or twice a year. We called her aunt Régi (Regina). My grandmother also had a brother, Schönfeld Henrik, whose wife, Aunt Rezsi, I liked very much. They had eight children: six girls (Elza, Sari, Ilonka, Mimi, Tubi, and Ibi) and two sons (Leonard and Villi). I felt very close to these people. Sometimes I walked over to their house. They were always happy to see me. Henrik was a very religious man. He always came into our store to talk. He was a businessman selling agricultural products such as wheat and barley. When I passed him I had to be very careful not to touch him. It was a sin for a girl to touch a religious man. Sari made corsets. I would see Ibi in high school. Leonard loved to visit with my grandmother. My grandfather, Lajos, had a brother, Ösztreicher Abrahám. He had a store similar to that of my parents, which was just a few doors away from their store. But we never got together with him or with his family. I wonder why?

From my father's side, I remember my grandfather, Schwartz Ignác, but I don't remember my grandmother. My grandfather lived with a daughter. Her name was Aunt Peppy, and her husband's name was Klein Sämu (Samuel). Her husband owned a horse and wagon and sold milk door to door. They had many children but I only remember three of them: Manci, Margit, and Magda. I loved them all and they were close to us. My father had another sister. Her name was Aunt Rezsi. She was a beautiful lady. I remember bringing cherry preserves to the hospital for her. She died of cancer. I was just a little girl but I loved her and was heartbroken. Her husband's family name was Auslander. They also had a lot of children but I only remember Gizi (who married Fred Winkler in Philadelphia) and Lilly, both of whom survived the war. My father had a brother, Jakab. He used to come into our store. He had a son, Ernie. I treasure the memory of all these people, but I do feel sorry that I didn't write sooner. I would have had more information.

Going back to Vár utza 10, in the backyard we had huge, wild berry trees on a long piece of land (about quarter of a mile). At the end of our land there was a community of Christian families. I still remember some of the names: Veres and Molnár. My parents allowed them to make a path through our land. This way they were able to reach the village very quickly. In return they harvested our land. We had potatoes, carrots, and corn. The vegetables were stored in a cellar for the winter. We had a well for drinking water on our property that came in very handy. Otherwise, we would have had to go to the municipal fountain, which was quite far. Especially in the winter, the toilets seemed very far but we were used to it.

I don't remember having toys such as a bike or dolls, but I don't remember missing them either. We were a family. Happiness was seeing my mother holding hands with my father and smiling. We were never bored. There were always things to attend to: flowers to water, raking the garden, playing ball or school (I was the "teacher" and I gathered up younger children and played school with them), bringing firewood into the house, feeding our dog, talking to my friends on our street or our tenants and neighbours. We were well liked. We were at home. Modest as it was, it was our castle. As young children all we needed was a pile of sand to be happy and to keep busy. We loved our country too. I remember when Hungarian soldiers on horseback rode through a street close by, I would rush to gather a bunch of flowers from our backyard and I would run all the way to give it to them.

I attended public school but was also given Hebrew lessons. My first-grade teacher's name was Mrs. Pataki. She was a very nice, kind old lady. Then there was Ébner Irén and Kratky Maria. I liked these two women and they liked me. Sometimes I went over to their houses and I helped them weed their gardens. Then there was a male teacher, Mr. Bocskai. I didn't like him at all. He was a sadist.

I loved to recite poems and verses. One year there was a Mother's Day celebration. I accepted the longest poem to recite. People from the local newspaper came to congratulate me. They were looking for my parents, but on that occasion they were not there. They had more important things to attend to. The next day there was an article in the paper. My best friend, Klein Kató, and I were declared the best.

Everything changed in high school. I felt anti-Semitism. I don't remember the name of my teacher, but she called the gentile girls by their first names and the Jewish girls by their family names. I couldn't concentrate. It disturbed me a lot. I began to feel hatred. This was in 1939 and I was only twelve years old. My grandmother used to tell me how terrible it was for the Jewish people. How, during an uprising or a revolution, they always blamed the Jews. I just felt sorry that they suffered so much.

Hatred only escalated. Things did not improve. One day my grandmother came over to our house crying that one of her neighbours had threatened to kill my uncle Miklós. I knew where my uncle was. I ran all the way, five or six kilometers, to find him in a nearby village called Ajak. He went into hiding, but for the High Holiday he went to the synagogue. The gendarme (the elite police) were searching for him and they entered the synagogue. My uncle escaped through a window, and Mrs. Rooz who was a distant relative hid him in her home. When things quieted down he managed to get on a ship and he hid in the coal. He arrived in Canada in 1939 as a stowaway barely alive. I never found out why the gendarme wanted to arrest him or why the man (his name was Orgován) who was supposed to be his friend wanted to kill him. All I know is that my uncle was selling land at the time. Perhaps some land deal didn't please them. Our entire family was relieved when we received a letter from my uncle from Canada.

It seemed that for the Jewish population life was getting quite scary. My father had to do forced labour. Luckily he was disqualified due to a hernia. My parents decided that we should all learn a trade instead of continuing our education. They paid for a well-known watchmaker to teach my brother how to repair watches. My oldest sister studied hair dressing, also privately, which was costly. My brother and sister finished their studies. My parents bought a two-wheeler for my sister. She had private customers and biked to their homes. She was very popular. People liked her very much. They found a dressmaker to teach me how to sew. I tried but besides learning different stitches I never got to do a complete dress.

Meanwhile my parents knew that life for us was deteriorating. Anti-Semitism was so dreadful. Knowing that whatever happens we would need food, they bought several cows, a horse, goats, geese, ducks, and chickens. At that point I didn't do so much sewing. I helped a lot with the animals. I loved to ride the horse. I milked the cows and fed the rest of the animals. My grandfather, Lajos, came over every day to help out and we had some hired help.

The political situation was worsening, especially for us, the Jewish people. My mother paid more frequent visits to the Rabbi to pray for our safety and well-being and to have peace. The Rabbi blessed us, told us to prey, and to have faith in G-d. I always accompanied her on these visits.

To keep the business open was no easy task. It was very difficult to get yard goods such as silk, linen, cotton, and flannel. My mother never gave up. She traveled to Budapest to her suppliers and had confidence that she wouldn't come home empty handed. The name of the wholesale business firm was Mandel Gustav and Sandor. She couldn't talk enough about these people, how nice they had been to her. Because of her sore ankles, they especially wanted to help her out. They sold her yard goods. She was invited to their home. One day she told us, "I saw a beautiful ceramic bathroom, that's what we will have one day. We will install indoor plumbing in our home." We never gave up hope. In fact, we did have electricity installed and a new ceramic kitchen floor.

In spite of the high hopes and the prayers, the hatred seemed to worsen. To light candles on Friday nights was scary. Our windows got broken. Rocks were thrown into my grandparents' home. My father boarded up some of their windows. The Arrow-Cross gangsters were carrying out their vicious insults. One young man came into our store like a wild animal, cursing, picking up boxes of shoes and throwing them out to the street. My mother pleaded with him to take what he wanted but the hatred was just too deep. We trembled with fear.

My brother was called into the army. My parents couldn't see him go. My mother made a pot of very strong coffee and he drank a lot of that. Then they called the family doctor and said that he is not feeling well. The doctor listened to his heart and gave a letter that he is unable to go into service due to a heart condition.

My grandfather Lajos became ill. He had a tumor under his arm and he passed away. I remember that the funeral was held in my grandparents' backyard. The Rabbi had to hurry with the service because rocks were thrown at us. I loved him and I missed him but, in a way, I was relieved that his suffering had ended and that he would not be subjected to all that hatred that surrounded us.

By the time I was fifteen or sixteen, I was allowed to go out with boys with my mother's approval. My brother had many friends; that's how I met someone that I went for walks with. Mostly, we talked about politics. My girlfriend's brother took me out to a movie. He came from a nearby village. I was not allowed to let him pay for me. My mother gave me the money. There was another young man who came to see me at our house. He was from a well-known family and I knew my parents would have been happy if I kept friendship with him. I don't think we had much in common, or perhaps there was no time to get to know each other better. I enjoyed very much getting well-dressed, going on the main street for long walks with my sister, Klára. We knew a lot of people and it was lively and cheerful.

My mother always called a dressmaker to our house before Passover. We had a sewing machine at home. We chose the material and the style, and the three of us always got beautiful new dresses. We also liked to walk down to the end of our street. There was a ruined fort or castle surrounded by a forest. The three of us loved to walk and run around there. Even my parents came along sometimes. Of course, we had to pass my grandmother's house to get there so we always dropped in to see them.

My brother decided to go to Budapest to continue work as a watchmaker. But as it happened we had a neighbour next door to our store who owned a jewelry store. He was a watchmaker and was married and had several children. Unfortunately, he had a terrible accident and got blood poisoning and died. When my brother found out what happened, he told my parents, "I cannot leave. I must stay and manage the store. This family needs money to live." Needless to say how much happiness my parents and all of us derived from my brother's decision.

My sister, Klára, met a young man who was stationed in Kisvárda. He came to see her regularly. My parents seemed to like him and Klára was on top of the world. I am thankful for these few happy occasions that my parents had. The pride of seeing how unselfish my brother was; the hopes of seeing Klára perhaps getting married to this wonderful, young man who met their expectations. We were definitely looking forward to brighter days. We kept very busy working hard, praying and hoping that the Germans would lose the war. "G-d willing, everything will be all right." Our high hopes and prayers, however, did not improve our suffering.

Cruel laws and rules were forced upon us day after day. It was extremely painful to realize that we had been overly optimistic for too long. It was shocking when I visited one of our tenants, the Posner family, of Russian origin. They had a maid, a Gypsy girl. I liked talking to her. She was always cheerful and happy. I asked, "Where is she?" I was told that she was forcibly taken away and drowned with many others. "How is it possible to kill innocent people. They must have sent them to work somewhere," I told Mrs. Posner. She said softly to me, "I wish you would be right."

There was no reason to be optimistic anymore. We were forbidden to listen to the radio. When I walked down the street to try to listen to the news, I was pelted with rocks. My mother loved to go to the ritual bath (mikvah). It was one of life's pleasures for her but it was forbidden.

I heard a lot of whispering. I overheard them talking about an escape route but they would not have been able to do it. It was too late. Jews were not allowed to travel. My mother would never agree to any escape route unless the whole family could escape together. That was impossible. We were carrying home a lot of merchandise (furniture, yard goods) from our store. Our sheds were dug up and we buried the yard goods and clothes in wooden boxes.

Whenever my father went to the synagogue he came home with dreadful news. He heard that a prominent doctor and his entire family committed suicide. On March 19th, 1944, it became compulsory to wear the yellow star of David. On this same day, the German army marched into Hungary. Beyond the German's expectations, the Hungarians fully cooperated and welcomed them. We felt trapped.

I remember Mr. Fekete, who came to our house to read the electricity meter. When he walked in, he looked at all of us. He started to walk toward my parents. He would have liked to talk to them but he was overcome with emotions and started to cry. He just kept on crying and walked out. He knew that something terrible would happen. Sure enough, a few days later, one young man came to our house and my grandparents' home. This young man lived on our street. My grandmother and his grandmother were friendly with each other. His name was Bajor and he was authorized to take inventory of our belongings. It did not take long to find out that we will have to leave our homes and live together in a ghetto in Kisvárda. All of us tried hard to comfort each other. My parents felt that my brother should enlist for labor camp. Perhaps he would have a better chance to stay alive. He listened to them and left to enlist. It was heartbreaking to see him go.

My parents entrusted our livestock to the people who used our property to cross into town. Even though they promised to take good care of all the animals, it was hard to leave them behind--the baby goats whom I adored; the beautiful horse I loved to ride; the cows, geese, ducks, and chickens. My mother worked frantically preparing a soup base, a mixture of flour and oil or chicken fat. She said as long as we could get some water at least we could make a soup. I saw her breaking down and crying. I begged her not to cry. Her answer was, "I am not crying for myself, I am crying for all of you. I love you all very much." I tried to tell her that it's only temporary that we have to leave. She hugged and kissed me. She was always very brave but my parents were experienced. I was naive. They knew how irrational people could become by hatred, jealousy, vengeance, and power, and they became very fearful.

My parents worked very hard never taking a vacation. They never smoked or drank and they saved every penny. The custom was to give a girl a dowry when she gets married. They bought precious jewels, diamonds, and gold for the three of us so that when we'd marry we would have the means to start a new life on our own. My father called us together and we all went down to the cellar. That's where he removed some of the bricks from the wall, hid the jewels in a bottle and repaired the wall. So we all knew where it was. He hid some jewelry in the attic. Even our neighbour, the Fishers, from across the road hid some jewelry in our attic.

Around the middle of April 1944, we were transported to and imprisoned in the ghetto in Kisvárda. We were taken under the cruelest conditions by the Hungarian gendarmerie. All of us were crammed into one room—my grandmother, my parents, Aunt Margit, Uncle Ernö, and my two sisters, Klára and Éva. Below our room was a cellar. That's where they brought people to be interrogated, to find out where they hid their money and valuables. It was always the head of the household. At first they tortured the very wealthy and later the middle class. It was horrible to hear the screams.

We also worried about our father. The food was very scarce so my Dad used to sneak out at 5:00 a.m. before sunrise. I don't know who it was but a gentile family gave him eggs, milk, and bread. He took a tremendous risk to improve the quality of life for his family. The people who gave him the food were also very special, unselfish, kind, and willing to help others in need. It was a courageous act. They could have gotten into trouble helping Jews. Good people like them gave us the incentive to try hard and go on with our lives. It was a joint effort to do the best we could. We supported each other, sharing the household duties. We were free to walk anywhere within the ghetto. I walked a lot with my sisters and everyone else in the family, talking to our friends and neighbours, trying to find out political news.

One morning a young man knocked at our door. My mother answered, he introduced himself, and asked if he could talk to me. My mother spoke to him for a few minutes, and then she called me. She introduced him to me. We went for a walk and we talked. His name was Ainsley. He told me that he would like to get to know me and asked if I would be interested in him. Well, I was most surprised. He was very good-looking, slim, tall, and very polite. I couldn’t figure out why he would be interested in me. I asked him, "Why me?" I pointed out all my shortcomings and offered to introduce him to some beautiful girls from Kisvárda. He just smiled and told me that he has seen all the girls in the ghetto but has no desire to go with anyone else except me. He did seem very honest, so I agreed to be his girlfriend. I enjoyed his company very much. He introduced me to his mother. She was a very nice lady.

I was happy. However, a few days later, a young boy (the son of our tenant) handed a message to my mother. It came from a Hungarian gendarme, stating in this note that he wants me to go alone to the end of the ghetto by the fence and meet him on the empty field. If I refuse, all the older men will be tortured. I looked at my family. I will never forget the look on my mother’s face; how it reflected fear, terror, and helplessness. I knew that there was just one thing to do--to go. I told my family not to worry. I will speak to this young man, everything will be fine, and I will be back soon. I went alone and I did meet him. We talked about fifteen minutes when my boyfriend appeared with a letter from a doctor saying that I had my appendix out, that I am not allowed walking, and I must be lying down and staying indoors. He gave him a stern look and told both of us that we could leave. As soon as I got back, I lay down just in case the gendarme decided to check on me. The next morning Ainsley came to see me. All of us were shocked. His arm was in a sling and he had black eyes. He got badly beaten up. It was horrible to see him like that. I felt responsible for all his suffering. He told me not to worry, it will heal. And he brought me a book to read, Gone with the Wind. He was the first boyfriend I really liked a lot.

Once again, the news was frightening. And once more our hopes that soon the war will be over and that we will get back to our homes and business and resume our lives were shattered. People were saying that the Germans will transport everyone to work camps. The ghetto became like a funeral parlor. People were openly weeping. Everyone was scared. It didn’t make sense that Germany would want grandmothers, pregnant women, babies, sick people, and children to work for them. In everyone’s mind there was a question mark. "What will happen to us?" For myself, I was brought up to respect everyone whatever their religion. So it was difficult to comprehend the complexity of human hatred. I did believe that they will be taking us to work. My grandmother worriedly asked me, "What type of work can I do for them? I am too old to work." "Well," I said, "you could help out in the kitchen, like peeling potatoes, or in a hospital preparing bandages. We could all work."

On May 29th, 1944, my boyfriend didn’t come to visit me. I became panicky and told my mother I must go to see him. She agreed. So I went but they were all gone, taken away with the first transport. I felt horrible. I couldn’t even say goodbye, but I was hopeful that I will see him after the war.

My family and I were taken on the 31st of May 1944. Eighty people were herded into each wagon. We weren’t allowed to take anything, only the clothes we wore. There was a pail of water, the doors shut, and the journey towards the unknown destiny began. My father, my mother, my grandmother, and my sisters, Klára and Éva, Aunt Margit, Uncle Ernö—everyone was very quiet, sad, and speechless. I tried so hard to cheer them up. I found a little space where I was able to look out and watch the scenery. I asked everyone to come and watch. No matter how hard I tried, no one was interested. My grandmother kept repeating, "I am too old to work." Would I have known what will happen to them, I would have spent every moment kissing and hugging them and trying my best not to be separated.

Finally, the train arrived in Birkenau, Poland. The doors opened. Somehow I was pushed out such that I found myself standing alone and a long line was forming behind me. I looked around everywhere I could see but there was no one from my beloved family. Fear and panic hit me. I sobbed and threw myself to the ground, thinking to myself that I will not get up unless they reunite me with my family. I didn’t care if they shoot me. Behind me in the line were the two Freed girls from our street, Vár utza. They were crying but they practically lifted me up and begged me to stay on my feet or else I will be shot. They told me that their mother was pregnant and they cannot see her anywhere.

The long line was formed and we had to start marching. It was about three kilometers to Auschwitz. On the way, we saw the barbed wire with high voltage security fence. We saw a lot of people inside. It was a scary site. Some people walked with long sticks and were beating up others. The clothes people wore were rags. We couldn’t imagine what this place could be. Some people were saying it must be a mental asylum. But how could they treat mental patients so badly?

Soon our march ended and we found ourselves at the same place--the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. This was the worst day in my entire life. The heartache of not knowing what would happen to my family? Where are they? I always searched with my eyes as far as I could see, in every direction, even imagining that I could see my father.

The people were drained mentally and physically. It started to rain and was cool. All day, we didn’t get food but we had to stay in line and wait. Finally, an SS officer came and told us that he will try to get us some tea. It was no comfort to me. I was a lost soul.

Later on, we had to be disinfected. At this place, they shaved our heads. We had to strip naked. They put us through humiliating tortures. Our clothes were taken away and we had to get dressed from a pile of rags. As I walked around at this disinfecting area, like a miracle, I noticed my first cousin from my father’s side, Klein Magda. She noticed me at the same time. She told me that she has no one from her family and that we should try to stay together. I was hoping that we would be able to do that.

We were later led over to the C Lager. We remained outside. A Kapo (that is, a prisoner foreman assigned to oversee a particular labour squad of prisoners) came to talk to us. She told us her name, Toska. I believe she was a Polish girl. She seemed very honest. She asked if we had any questions. Many people asked the same question, "When will we be reunited with our family members?" With tears in her eyes, she pointed to the crematorium. She had a difficult time to talk. After regaining her composure she continued, "Like yourselves, I was brought here with my family, but now I am alone." She warned us to be alert; it will not be easy to stay alive. After that, we were herded into the barrack. There was another Kapo; her name was Éva. She was mean. A good-looking Jewish girl, but she behaved shamefully, using a stick to control the people.

We were squeezed into a very tight sitting position for the night. In my misery, I decided to heed the Rabbi’s advice: to hope and pray. Every night, I recited prayers in Hebrew. I knew them well and included every member of my family and, of course, Ainsley. Somehow, my religious background gave me strength. But I also had a guilty feeling, "Why me? Why am I alive and my family gone?" I tormented myself.

Before sunrise, we were awakened by a loud whistling sound. We had to rush out and line up for inspection. A couple of times a week, we had to march into the barrack naked in front of the doctors, Mengele and some others, for the selection. If someone was taken out of the line, that meant death. So we tried to look our best.

We received a slice of bread and about a teaspoon of marmalade in the morning. In the afternoon we took turns to pick up a container of food, which had no taste, very little. There were no dishes, no cutlery. So we lined up and we drank one after the other from the same cup. Many people, including me, were getting gum disease. In the afternoon, again we had to stand in line for a couple of hours to be counted. Sometimes I saw burnt corpses, like charcoal, against the fence. It was a horrible sight.

One morning after the lineups I lay down on the ground. An SS soldier stepped on my stomach. A day’s survival was an achievement.

About three or four weeks later, one morning we were lining up to have our identification number tattooed into our forearms, when my cousin Magda was taken away from the line. Once again I felt lost. I wanted to remain with her so badly. She was very nice to me. I crouched down and got to a window. I climbed through it and found Magda. I lined up after her. We had no idea what will happen to us but once again we were together and that meant a lot to both of us. There were sixteen people. We got into little boxcars pulled by a tractor. After traveling three to three and a half hours, we arrived on a farm.

We were given shelter in a shed. We slept on straw on the ground. Later on, they put up some bunks for us. When it was getting dark, the door was shut and we got locked in. At 6:00 a.m. the doors opened again. We received some food and were driven by truck out to the fields to work. We had to gather wheat or oats, form bunches, tie them up and put them in an upright position, like forming pyramids. We had two supervisors: A man who was nice. If someone had difficulty to do the work, he tried to help and was never angry. The woman disliked all of us. I overheard her telling the male supervisor that we are Jews and that we don't deserve any help. All of us tried to do our utmost. This place was definitely better than Auschwitz. Sunday, for supper, we were given mashed potato and a slice of ham on a regular plate. It meant a lot to everyone.

One day the owner rode up on horseback to the place where we worked. He called me and another girl over to talk to him. He told us that instead of working on the fields we would be working in the kitchen. The other girl was only 13 years old. Mostly I noticed her polishing shoes. I ended up helping the two maids, peeling vegetables, fruits, and so on. It was better than working on the fields. I filled my clothes with the skins from the apples that I peeled. Sometimes I managed to hide some carrots or small apples; they were shared with everyone.

I would see the family on Sunday mornings going to church. It reminded me of how I used to go to synagogue together with my parents, brother, and sisters, and other members of my family. I was not jealous of them but I was so hurt. The injustice was too horrendous. Here I was working like a slave. Why? There was nothing that I did wrong. They were born into the Christian faith. I happened to be born into the Jewish faith. They have everything they own. Everything was confiscated from us. They have their family alive. I don't know what happened to mine. How could all this crime be allowed to happen in the 20th century with not one single nation trying to rescue us? Where is God? Did he fall asleep? I was losing my faith in humanity. I questioned the existence of God. After all, I did see the crematorium smoke all the time when I was in Auschwitz. The sadistic cruelties that I witnessed gave me reason to believe that there was very little chance that I will see everyone from my beloved family again.

After working in the kitchen for about three months, I overheard the two maids expressing concern about how close the Russians were and what will happen to them? To us it meant hope, that our freedom is closer.

One afternoon after work, when I entered the shed, there was dead silence and everyone was looking at me. I asked, "What's going on?" It was explained that one of the women was in her sixth month of pregnancy and she worried about losing her baby, working on the fields. The maids agreed to let her work in the kitchen if I was willing to take her place on the fields. There was no question debating the issue. The next morning I went to work on the fields.

The Russians were getting close. We had seen gunfire explosions very close to us. Our lives were at high risk. Everyone was scared. We continued working a couple more weeks but one morning instead of being driven to work we were transported back to Auschwitz. It was very difficult to hope anymore. The people in Auschwitz looked like skeletons and they were jealous that we had spent time working on a farm. They were telling us that there was an outbreak of typhus. Some of the barracks were burnt to the ground. The people were dying like flies. I cannot find words to explain the intensity of the crime. By this time, it looked like we were remnants of a race. I kept telling myself not to give up--if anyone survived from my family they might need me. This feeling of responsibility to my family and to our race kept me struggling to stay alive.

The hunger, filth, and torture continued. One morning, to my amazement, I received a small package. The Kapo who gave it to me told me that she had to bring back a reply. I opened it: there was some bread, a pencil, and a note. The content of the note said, "I was born in Poland. I am not Jewish. I publicly expressed opposition to the ruling government; therefore, I was sent to Auschwitz. I am a doctor. I would like to know if you would marry outside your faith." It didn't take me long to reply. In my heart, I knew that I would not marry outside my faith in respect to my parents. Also, I did not give up on Ainsley yet. So I expressed my thanks to him and stated my reasons. I never heard from him again but it gave me a tremendous boost to believe that there are some decent people out there and that I should do my utmost to survive.

A few weeks later, once again, Magda and myself along with many other people were transported to another concentration camp. When we arrived, two male Kapos were in charge to lead us into the camp. To our misfortune they took advantage of their position of superiority, hugging and lifting us up. It was embarrassing and I was scared. They told us that we remind them of their sisters. Soon a line was formed and we walked to the camp.

When we entered the camp it was a frightening experience. On the middle of the ground there was a huge dugout. On one side of it we had to line up. Across from us, on the other side, the SS soldiers were standing with their rifles pointing toward us. People became panicky, fearing that we are facing a firing squad. I tried to calm down the people in front of us with the explanation that if they wanted to kill us it could have been done in Auschwitz. It turned out to be a military exercise.

We were led into a building where we had to shower and were given other clothes, gray and navy striped uniforms. We lined up for food. It was given on a plate. It was more military style and seemed much better than Auschwitz.

In the early evening I felt tired and lay down on the lower bunk bed. As I was resting my cousin ran in and she was excited. She told me that the two Kapos brought us a bread. They were in a room close by and she asked me to go with her to get the bread. I had no intention to go and I begged her not to go but she had just ran off saying that we needed the bread. As much as I didn't want to go, I ran after her so that she shouldn't be alone. The two young men were happy to see us. One of them was holding my hand when suddenly the lights went on. Several people came in. We were escorted back to our barrack but they took Magda with them. She had to strip naked and they waited. In a little while an SS officer arrived and my cousin was beaten twenty-five times with a rubber baton. I heard her screams and I felt her pain. In my heart I knew that she meant good for both of us. She just wanted some bread. When they finished with her, I expected them to get me but that did not happen. Magda told them that I only ran in to call her back. We could see the two Kapos outside. There were two posts with a heavy cord in the middle. Each man was tied up by his feet and arms and left there hanging for hours from the post.

The next morning we were crowded into a wagon like sardines and were sent to a hard labour camp. It took many hours to get there. I remember telling Magda that the people were very nice because I fell asleep on top of people. What I didn't realize was that I was sleeping on dead bodies. My cousin was in terrible pain from the beatings. When the train finally stopped at the assigned destination and the door opened, we were forced to carry the dead bodies.

We slept on the ground in a barrack, with only a little straw spread around. The food was horrible and very little. To describe the extent of the hunger, I once retrieved a bite size piece of bread from the wall of the latrine and ate it. Males and females used the same latrine. There was no such thing as human dignity.

The work was hard. We were given a pick and we had to chop away from a mountainous area to build a trench. We had no warm clothing. We wrapped our feet in pieces of rags. We were afraid of frostbite. Sometimes we would have liked to talk to someone, but the SS soldier appeared immediately yelling to stop talking and keep on working.

One day Magda was sick. She was unable to go to work. I worried all day, what would happen to her? The same thing happened to me too. There was no doctor. Lucky for us the next day we were able to go to work. The people who stayed away from work more than twice we never saw again.

Eventually, as the Russians were advancing, this camp had to be eliminated. The marching began. It was still winter and was very cold. We marched all day. When people were close to collapse and the guards themselves were over-tired, they usually found a place for us where we could spend the night, mostly in the stalls with animals. We were starved. I remember once that, as we marched, I noticed some frozen potato peels in the snow. I gathered some up quickly and ate them.

One evening, after we were locked in a stall, a few of us decided that we would try to escape. We climbed up to the attic. It was filled with hay. We buried ourselves in the hay. In the morning, when the SS guards came to take us, we remained in the attic. The first night someone threw up carrots and that's what we ate. But the next morning a bunch of hooligans, teenage boys, came up to the attic. One by one, they threw all of us down shouting, "Juden, Juden!" While falling approximately eight feet, I concentrated on landing on my feet. We were all hurt and painful. Within a short while, one SS guard came and led us back to the group and once again the marching continued.

One evening, it was quite late. We were extremely tired and my cousin felt sick. I begged her to continue walking. She turned to me and said, "Vera, you go on please. I can't walk no more," and she collapsed. At that moment, I lay down next to her, telling her to pretend that we were dead. The first guard yelled to get up, keep walking. We stayed motionless. He poked, kicked, and pushed us with his rifle into the ditch. When the second guard came and wanted to shoot us, he told him, "They are dead, don't waste your bullets."

Motionless, we lay there until there was no more sound. At that point I told Magda that we have to keep walking, otherwise we will freeze to death. Slowly we crawled out of the ditch. With Magda leaning on me, slowly, we walked. Suddenly we noticed a light. Soon we realized that it's a house. At that point, we had no choice. We had to try to go inside. The door was not locked. There were people sitting around a table. No one said a word to us. We crouched under a bed and we fell asleep there. In the morning, a man was poking at us with a broom, yelling, "Juden heraus" (Jews get out). We crawled out. As we left the house he threw some bread crusts after us. I stopped to pick them up and we ate it all. I remember thinking that he still had some humanity left in him.

We continued walking. We walked by a more populated area and suddenly we saw a policeman directing traffic. We quickly turned around and went into a house. One woman came to ask us if we would like some food. Of course we wanted, we were starving. She came back with two servings of ham and mashed potato on porcelain plates with cutlery. We didn't exactly know why they were so considerate but soon another woman came to tell us that the Russians had entered the area and that, if the Russians came into the house, they wanted us to tell them that they were good people, that they protected us and gave us food. Now we understood the situation we were in. We were happy that finally we would be free.

Within minutes, Russian soldiers entered the house. The father or grandfather was sitting with all his military decorations on his uniform. One Russian soldier shot him instantly. We were scared. We didn't know what would happen to us. One of the women came to me, begging me to save her daughter, saying that one Russian soldier took her into a room and that he would kill her. Thinking how nicely they treated us, I ran into the room. I was still very naive, not realizing that he was raping her. I started explaining that these people gave us food. He was reaching for his gun. My cousin ran into the room, grabbed me, slapped my face, and pulled me out. She was trembling. She asked me, "Don't you know the reason he took the girl into the room?" At that moment, I didn't know. I was trying to save a life but I was in a state of shock. If it were not for Magda, I would have been killed.

We also realized that we were in danger. The freedom we were hoping for did not come. There was no law and order. We were on our own. When night came, we slept with our heads covered with a scarf to look less attractive. Even so, one night while both of us were asleep, a soldier woke me up. With his flashlight shining into my eyes, he ordering me to get up and go with him. I was terrified. I screamed and cried. My cousin tried to explain to him that we were in concentration camps, we were Jewish. He said that Jewish was good. Then Magda told him that I am only a child. At that point he got angry and told Magda, "You are not a child," and forced her to go with him. I was tormented waiting, not knowing what would happen to her. She returned within a short time and told me that he was unable to rape her because she cried and screamed too much. He got angry and hit her with his rifle and let her go. The fear continued every day.

We kept searching for food. We met a young girl and her mother of Polish origin. They found some potatoes, cooked them, and they insisted on sharing it with us. They were also survivors. I could never forget them. Once we hid in a pile of hay to avoid some soldiers. They must have noticed us and lit the hay so we had to get out. An older Russian officer noticed us. He spoke to the young soldiers to leave us alone and they listened to him. This officer seemed to like us. He said I looked like his daughter. He kept companionship with a woman in the same house where we stayed. We were lucky he noticed the situation we were in.

One afternoon we met a young girl, also a survivor. She was from a very religious family. She told me how thankful she was to survive and that when she got home she hoped to find her family. Well, that didn't happen. A drunk Russian soldier was raping her through the night. The next morning the girl was dead, she bled to death. The soldier was still next to her, drunk.

The older Russian officer became a good friend for us. Sometimes he brought us some food. I distinctly remember the beige and white winter coat he gave me, also shoes, but more than anything I believe that he probably saved our lives. One early afternoon, young people were rounded up. Magda and I were chosen. We were told to get into the army truck. Both of us tried to explain that we were not the enemy, we are not Germans, we were Jewish survivors, but it made no difference. We were forced into the truck. While waiting on the truck we noticed our friend the Russian officer talking with the soldiers, and right after they came to tell us to get off the truck. Later, this officer told us that those people were sent to Siberia to do hard labor. We just didn't know how to thank him enough. But, this man did have a heart. He understood our plight and he just wanted to help us. He didn't expect anything from us.

There are several events that I will never be able to forget: (1) When in Auschwitz, a woman was telling me that she was unable to eat the bread we were getting so she traded it for a little bit of jam. I told her to try her best to eat the bread, which was our main food. She began to talk about her husband who was a doctor. They came from Budapest with the last transport. As we talked, suddenly, she went out of control. She started slapping everybody around. They took her away. (2) During transportation from one camp to another, on the train, a young girl--she was about my age, I was 17 and I don't believe she was more than 18 or 19 years old--she rushed to me, hugging and kissing me and telling me how happy she was that she found me. She told me that I was her sister and she begged me to promise her that I will never leave her again. (3) Right after the Russian occupation, as we searched for food, we noticed a rifle in a bedroom just lying there on top of the bed in one of the houses we walked into. Magda and I, we looked at each other: Here is our chance to take revenge--"an eye for an eye," as they say. But, we never reached for that rifle. No, we were not killers. We were victims of planned genocide, and two wrongs don't make a right.

Weeks passed, the weather was getting milder. Magda found a two-wheeler. We decided to double-ride and search for food. We managed to find some food and we were heading back on a deserted dirt road when we heard Russian soldiers calling us. Magda sped up, riding as fast as she could. The soldiers began shooting. Whether they just shot into the air or they missed us that we didn't know. The important fact was that we did get away unhurt.

Several more weeks passed, it was spring. We were wondering how and when we will be able to get back to Hungary. I was fearful but still hoping and praying for some miracle that I would see my family again. In my mind, I didn't want to believe that the world would allow the genocide of our people for no reason, only because we were members of the Jewish faith. It seemed criminal, so unbelievable, but of course given what I had seen and what I had been through there was plenty of reason to be fearful.

Sometime in the month of May, our friend the Russian officer came to see us. He told us that the train tracks to Hungary had been repaired. He gave us the exact time when a train will be going. He advised us to get on it and we took his advice. We knew he only meant good for us. We were eager to get back even though I was never able to call Hungary home again. It was my birthplace. I loved the country; it was beautiful, but I kept remembering the cooperation of the Hungarian government with the Germans, and the eagerness to carry out all the horrible atrocities against us.

We arrived at the train. It was difficult to get into the boxcar. There was no platform; we had to pull ourselves up. It was filled with Russian soldiers, many of them drunk. With our heads covered--partially our faces too--we looked nowhere except down to the floor. The only thing we had seen: drunken soldiers urinating on the floor. After several hours, the train came to a halt in a small town. We got off and transferred to a passenger train. As we walked in to look for a seat a woman spat in front of us and made the remark, "These filthy Jews are coming back." At that moment I felt very happy that we did survive and that the anti-Semites felt defeat.

I was sitting by the window. A young man was knocking on the window to get my attention. I opened it. He told me that he saw my brother in Ujpest. At that point I knew that all my efforts to stay alive were not in vain. From that moment nothing mattered. My main concern was to find my brother and to be reunited with him. The young man told me that he is a friend of my brother. After I realized that he was the son of the rabbi in a nearby town and that he used to come to our home. He had no address where I would be able to find my brother.

Magda decided to go to Kisvárda. We parted, hugging and kissing and wishing each other the best of luck, and promising that we will soon see each other again. I managed to get to Ujpest. At the train station there were many people, also representatives of a Jewish organization that was formed to welcome and help out survivors. A young woman by the name of Komáromi Martha and her brother and sister-in-law approached me. They asked some questions including my name, and they offered me accommodation since I didn't know anyone in Ujpest. I was happy to accept the offer and I was thankful.

Also, a young man came over and offered me a voucher for a dinner at a restaurant. My mind was occupied with finding my brother so I declined saying, "I don't know Ujpest, and I don't know where the restaurant is." He introduced himself. His name was Miklós Mandel. He was very polite. He told me that he would also go to the same restaurant, that we could go together, and that he lived near where I was be staying. He offered to call on me. I accepted and appreciated his help.

Martha and the young couple took me to their apartment. It was very nice. It was on Arpad utza. They put a mattress on the floor for me. The apartment wasn't too big. I was wondering why they were doing all this for me, so I asked them, "Why are you inconveniencing yourselves? You don't even know me." Well, this is the answer they gave me: "What we are doing for you is nothing in comparison to what your brother did for us. He saved our lives." They told me that my brother escaped as a Hungarian officer and therefore he was able to save Jews. After the Russian occupation, he was arrested. They were questioning him about his activities. Martha told me that the most important thing was to try to visit him.

The next morning I went to the prison with Martha. They questioned me alone. After that, they took me into a small room. They brought in my brother. It was a tearful reunion. I tried very hard to be brave and not to cry. I would have liked to be cheerful; to reassure him that everything will be fine. We kissed and we hugged each other, then his eyes filled with tears. He asked, "What about Klára and Éva? Our parents?" After that, I knew how he was tormented so to avoid the questioning to continue I told him what happened--that in Auschwitz, I was separated and never saw them again but that we should still continue to have hope.

He told me not to worry, he was quite sure he would be released and then we would be together. Martha also felt confident that my brother would be released, and that's what happened. The next day he was free. The very first thing he did was to rent a store in Ujpest on Istvan utza. He started out with watch repairs. Neither of us had any money but thanks to my parents' foresight he had an excellent trade. The store went by the name "Fekete Zoltan" instead of his real name Schwartz Zoltan. In Hungarian, Fekete means black. Schwartz also means black. I guess he felt more comfortable with a name that sounds Hungarian than Jewish. How unfortunate. It explained the society we lived in.

Not too far from the store, he rented a room. It was in a beautiful home, very quiet and clean. The woman who rented it was alone. Her husband, who was a lawyer, never returned after the war. So, she was very happy to have us there. We both worked in the store. Besides doing watch repairs we sold low priced watches and straps.

The young man I met at the train station, Miklós Mandel, came into the store to have a watch repaired. We talked a lot. I told him that I was hoping and waiting for my boyfriend to come back. He said, "Well, let me know when you're not waiting anymore."

I was very anxious to get back to Kisvárda, still hopeful that perhaps there might be some good news for us about the rest of the family. One day we heard from a cousin of mine, William Schönfeld. He wrote to us saying that one of the sheds was dug up and they found wooden boxes of merchandise, clothing from the store. It was held in the Prerau shoe store, just a few doors away from where our store was located. Most of the merchandise was water damaged but they wanted to know what to do with it.

I decided to go back to Kisvárda and that's what I did. At first, I went to our house. The family who previously rented the lowest priced apartment from my parents now lived in it. When I walked in they were stunned, as if seeing a ghost. They just stood looking at me without saying a word. I asked them if they have seen anyone from my family. They just shook their heads that they have not seen anyone. Finally, they told me that they were told that no one would be coming back, that we were all killed.

I could not believe what I had just witnessed. Here I am with a Christian family and they do not express their sorrow. They are not telling me how happy they are to see me. They behave as if they would expect me to apologize for being alive. I asked if they found any pictures from my family. Once again, they just shook their heads "No." I went down to the cellar. Right away I noticed that the brick was removed where my father placed the jewelry. There was nothing, just empty space. How cruelly everything was grabbed, things my parents worked so hard for. I went up to the attic to search for some jewelry that my father hid there. Once again, everything was gone. I found nothing. I didn’t get to see the rest of the house. I don’t know what happened to our beautiful solid cherry wood dining room set and the walnut bedroom set, and all the little treasures such as knick-knacks and collectibles that my family valued so much and took such great care of.

My hopes were shattered. They have not seen anyone from my family and I didn’t even have a picture of my mother, my father, my sisters, Klára and Éva, my beloved grandparents, uncles, aunts, or cousins. I felt so betrayed, so helpless, heartbroken. I continued walking through the backyard. There was dead silence. All our tenants were gone. They were all Jewish except the one who moved into our home. All the apartments were empty and I missed them all so much. The Posner family, the old man who used to deliver door to door bread products (he had a much younger wife and many children), the tailor who worked so hard and was so kind to everyone, the young couple with two children (I used to admire how beautifully she darned old socks), the blind old lady, Mrs. Gartman, who made ends meet by selling door to door shoe polish, stove polish, and shoe laces. I was very fond of all these people. I missed them a lot.

I continued down the path to visit with the families to whom my parents entrusted our livestock; the beautiful horse, cows, sheep, goats, geese, ducks, and chickens. Once again, I encountered people who were very much surprised to see me. None of them asked about the rest of my family. They only complained about how terribly difficult times they had been through and how, when the Russians came in, everything was taken from them. In my eyes they were thieves. I had no respect for them.

There was one more family I went to visit, our shoemaker. My mother left beautiful satin material with his wife. From this material, my mother planned to make a housecoat. When I entered the house, the woman was wearing a satin housecoat made from the material my mother entrusted with her for safekeeping. Once more, I heard the same story: we were told nobody would be coming back. It was a painful experience, so much so that I could not bring myself to go over to my grandmother’s property, nor did I go to see our second house, which we used to rent out. It was the first house on Kis utza. We had beautiful nut trees on that property.

I had to get to the Prerau shoe store and decide what to do with the merchandise that was dug up from our shed. A young man, Prerau Jancsi, was in the store. He told me that everything was water damaged, so I asked him if he would be kind enough to give it away to some charitable organization. He agreed to look after it.

I met my cousin, William (Villi) Schönfeld. He was very nice. He told me that I could stay where he was staying, at the Freedman’s house (the Freedmans were in the leather business). The son came back and Villi was a friend of his. Villi brought me a beautiful gift, a pair of gold striped pajamas. He was a great help.

I got together with my cousin Magda. She wanted to go to Ujpest with me, she had someone there. Together, we walked on the main street, Fö utza. Our store was locked up, the street was deserted. I felt devastated. More and more the reality set in. I realized that Toska, the Kapo in Auschwitz, did not exaggerate. She told us the truth, just that at that time I did not want to believe it. But now I know that every word she said was true. Perhaps it is better that I did not believe her at the time or else I most probably would not be alive to tell the truth about the most senseless, cruelest, systematic killings of six million innocent Jews in the 20th century.

My personal feelings are that mankind did not do enough to stop the killings. Hitler received more cooperation than he had ever hoped for. Anti-Semitism was so deeply rooted that not one nation came to our help. There is a glimmer of hope today. When Pope John Paul II visited Cuba, he did ask for freedom for all religions. He also declared that anti-Semitism is a sin. In my mind, these few words carry a message of hope. Leaders of nations also should take a much firmer stand against hatred. They should not give hate mongers and former Nazis safe havens but instead bring them to justice. It is never too late.

I must get back to Ujpest to be with my brother. He needs me to help out in the store. Besides what is Kisvárda, my beautiful hometown, without my beloved grandmother, my dear parents, Klára and Éva, my sisters whom I loved so much, Aunt Margit and Uncle Ernö, and so many close relatives? My heart is aching for them. I do not feel at home anymore. I missed seeing my girlfriend next door, Spitz Vera. Across the street, the Fisher family, our neighbors, Mrs. Weinberger, Mrs. Glick, my best friend Klein Kato--all the people were gone. Only a few young Jewish men with surprised looks gave us big smiles and were happy to see us back when we walked on the Fö utza.

I was offered a lift to Ujpest by a young Hungarian man. Villi, my cousin, came along. He was going to Budapest. Magda also came. The driver stopped for the night. Villi and Magda went to sleep inside a house. I sat talking to the young man. Then I noticed that he exposed himself. I jumped off the truck and ran into the house. The owner of the house allowed me to sleep inside.

I was happy to be back in Ujpest. Magda shared wonderful news with me. Her boyfriend returned and they planned to get married, also one of her sisters survived. I was very happy for her. My brother, Miklós, and myself joined a Zionist organization, the Haovéd. To raise money we put on shows. I participated three times. The first was a biblical play; the second was about women's liberation; for the third, I recited a very long poem. It was about holding on to our religion and not converting. I enjoyed doing it very much. Miklós became a very good friend for both of us and he would accompany me to my rehearsals. We played for a full house and the audience left happy, so that pleased me. My brother and I both kept very busy. I learned a little Russian so that I was able to greet the Russian soldiers when they came into the store.

A very tall, handsome, highly decorated Russian officer was a frequent visitor in the store. In confidence, he told me that he was Jewish but that I should never mention it to anyone. I agreed but I felt sorry for him. I never hid my religion. We were not the killers of Christ, the Romans killed Jesus. We are not the sons and daughters of Satan as we have been described--all lies. I am proud to be Jewish.

One morning, our friend, the Russian officer, brought me a sheet of paper with mathematical questions to figure out. I hated math. I handed it back to him saying that I didn't know how to solve problems. He said he would like to marry me in Moscow and that's where I would have to continue my schooling. I politely declined.

Miklós introduced us to his best friend, Kellner Pista, who also introduced us to three sisters. The youngest, Lulu, was Pista's girlfriend. The middle one, Klára, was married. The eldest one (I don't remember her name) was married but her husband did not return. These people were very nice and we became good friends. My brother hired a watch repairman. He was doing pretty well in business but in our hearts we did not feel at home in Hungary. We talked a lot about leaving the country.

As time passed by, Miklós (we called him Miki for short) became part of my life. Together, we went to visit his uncle, Mandel Sandor, who lived in Budapest and who was the same person my mother praised so much. How well she was treated when she did her purchasing from the two brothers Sandor and Gustav. Now I understood why. He was a real gentleman. Miki's uncle had a brother, Szekulesz Doli, who quite often came into the store. We usually talked politics. He was the one who kept telling us that the longer we wait the harder it will be to leave Hungary. Every time he walked into the store we loved to see him and talk to him. We met Miki's uncle, Joska, also a very nice person. The uncle who impressed me very much was Szekulesz Béla. He spoke seven languages and was very open-minded. On Friday night, he called on me to go with him to the synagogue. I enjoyed his company.

Kellner Pista was able to find out my uncle's address and phone number in Canada. I wrote to him that the three of us (Zoli, Miki, and myself) would like to leave Hungary and that if he could help it would be greatly appreciated. We waited and hoped. We did receive an answer that he would do his utmost to bring us to Canada. However, the months were quickly passing and nothing materialized as far as emigration was concerned.

Miklós opened up his parents' store, selling electrical appliances and fixtures. He had a helper to do the electrical contracts. The store's location was István utza 10. He was unable to get back his parents' apartment so he got a small one-bedroom apartment with kitchenette in the same building, which he shared with his friend, Kellner Pista. This was a temporary solution. When his aunt Cornail returned from Auschwitz and her son from labour camp, Miklós let them have his apartment. He partitioned off a section of his store and built a nice little room for himself.

Eventually, I got to know all of Miklós's remaining family, the ones who were in Ujpest and Budapest. I simply fell in love with every one of them. They were exceptionally nice people. I got to know Miklós very well. Everyday the three or four of us went out for supper together. Many times Kellner Pista came along too. I felt very close to Miklós. If for any reason he didn't come into the store, I went over to see him.

There was a curfew in Hungary in 1945. If it happened that we were on the street after 10:00 p.m., we got arrested and had to spend the night locked in at the police station. It did happen to us.

In spite of the newly acquired friends and some nice people we got to know, for the three of us, the number-one priority was to leave Hungary. Miklós and I decided to get engaged before we left. His aunt, Szekulesz Blanka, prepared a beautiful supper for our engagement party in her home. My brother was the only person there from my very big family. Even though I loved and cared for Miklós and that this happy occasion was what I really wanted to happen, my happiness was torn by the absence of my loved ones. I kept thinking about them. How happy and proud of me they would have been to meet this exceptionally wonderful young man, my groom. Human cruelty is beyond my understanding.

Besides my brother, one of Komaromi Martha's brothers also attended. Miklós had several aunts and uncles to attend. His parents--I only saw pictures of them--were beautiful people. Unfortunately, their lives also were so cruelly taken in Auschwitz. We missed them very much. Miklós gave me a beautiful platinum necklace with a beautiful diamond pendant and matching earrings, as well as a gold necklace and pendant with the Ten Commandments on one side and a picture of Moses on the other side. All of these jewels were from his mother, so it really was a very special gift for me. His mother received this beautiful necklace and the earrings from his father for their tenth wedding anniversary.

In the spring of 1946, the Zionist organization accepted us into a group of people, all of whom were anxious to leave Hungary. They gave us the exact date, time, and location where we should meet. The instruction was to take the minimum. My brother and Miklós had to liquidate the store's merchandise and get whatever little money they could get out of it. Everything had to be done in secrecy. We were not allowed to tell anyone that we were leaving. The day when we had to leave, we left our room at dawn, met Miklós, and continued to our prearranged meeting place. From there, by truck, we were taken close to the Hungarian-Austrian British-occupied border.

Our leader explained to us that our escape is extremely dangerous. We had to follow him one by one. If we made a wrong step, we could be blown up by a landmine. He warned us to be completely silent, not to talk, not to cough, or we could all be shot. We lost our identity. We had to destroy all our official documents. We became stateless refugees.

We began our walk at night with high hopes and determination. Everyone fully cooperated. Our escape was successful. We arrived in British-occupied Austria. The way Miklós and I both remember is that someone led us into a DP (displaced persons) camp that was located in Judenberg. We were given a fingerprinted DP card and assigned to a barrack. With the card, we were able to get food from a soup kitchen. This camp was run by the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA). We were allowed to register for only one country, so we applied to go to Canada. Since my brother and I both felt very close to uncle Miklós, it would have meant an awful lot to see him again. It seemed to us that time stood still. A day seemed like a week. Once again, not one nation came to our aid by accepting us as immigrants. We were not as lucky as the Hungarians after the 1956 revolution or the Yugoslavs. These people were welcomed into Canada. All they had to do was to make a declaration.

Since we were allowed to register only for one emigration destiny at each DP camp, we registered in several camps hoping that we would have a chance to emigrate sooner. One camp was in Mitrahing, another was in Judenberg, both of which were in Austria. The countries we would have liked to emigrate to were Canada, the United States, British occupied Palestine, or France.

To go anywhere on an evening from the camp was too risky. The British soldiers, accompanied by Austrian girlfriends, were beating up Jews, even shooting at them. After months of waiting, people were very depressed and some actually returned to Hungary. For us, that was out of the question.

Rumours were circulating that emigration is faster from the American zone. A group of us hired an Austrian guide to lead us into the American zone. The escape was extremely strenuous, so much so that some people did not make it. Once again, we started out in the evening. We had to climb one of the highest mountains. Miklos and I had knapsacks but my brother had a small suitcase. At one point, he lost his grip and the suitcase tumbled down the mountain. The same thing happened to many other people. Their valuables were lost. The guide was not willing to stop to give a chance to retrieve anything.

To get down the other side of the mountain (to the American zone), we had to cross through snow-covered parts but at some places the snow was slushy and icy. The only way to get down was to slide on our behinds. When we finally got down the mountain there were several creeks we had to cross. Soaking wet and exhausted, we arrived at the American zone. This was where the guide left us. We started out, walking on our own. We were arrested by the American military police. We were led to a barn where we spent the rest of the night with only some straw spread on the ground. In the morning we were taken back to the exact location in the British zone from where we had started out. This was a horrible experience, especially when we realized that it was a scam. We were quite sure that the guide gathered up all the valuables on his way back.

My brother never gave up and several weeks later he managed to buy train tickets for the three of us and finally we entered the American zone without any problem. Life became more bearable--less fear, but a lot of uncertainty. Once again, we registered in different camps and we were very hopeful. From the American zone there was no problem to go into Germany. I believe the first town we stayed in was Deggendorf, and after we went to a DP camp in Windsheim. We stayed with a Zionist group, Haovéd. We shared everything, food, work. It was like living on a kibbutz. The people there were of Hungarian origin. The leader of the group was Imre Kepecs. He was a young rabbi and we knew him and his wife from Ujpest.

Miklós and I decided to get married. We got a rabbi to officiate the marriage and for a package of cigarettes we borrowed a wedding dress. The kibbutz donated flour and eggs so I baked a lot of cookies. Everyone was welcome, it was lively. Miklós played a violin that someone had lent him and we danced and we sang. My brother was with us but there was a tremendous void. Both of us missed our beloved families.

The date of our marriage was March 4, 1947. We were given a room of our own by the kibbutz. This room I will never forget. It was very cold and one of the walls was always covered with ice. It was also in Windsheim where Miklós got hold of some colorful material and made a bikini out of it, and taught me how to float in a nearby river. For me, it was a thrilling experience. Due to my orthodox upbringing, at home I wore skirts covering the knees and the blouse sleeves had to cover the elbows. We never went to a beach and I never owned a bathing suit, but I loved nature, the water, and freedom.

The waiting was very difficult on all of us, not knowing how long we will have to wait. Where will we end up? My brother left Windsheim. He spent some time in Zeltzheim, but he always came to visit us. We both remember that on one occasion we also ventured into Zeltzheim. We walked a lot and we became very hungry. We noticed a restaurant. Miklós had a gold ring, he thought perhaps the restaurateur would give us a good meal for it, and that's exactly what happened. We enjoyed the meal and never felt sorry for trading in the ring.

A short while later we left Windsheim. We went by train to Munich. The city was in ruin. Buildings were bombed, there was a shortage of food. We managed to get accommodations for the three of us. Most of the time we spent searching for clues, possibilities to emigrate. We hoped that from a big city there would be more opportunities, but there was no help and it didn't look promising. So we left Munich and went to Frankfurt. My brother got an accommodation for himself near one of the train stations. It was centrally located and there was easy access to go to different organizations. As for ourselves, we got a room in a private home of a German Jewish lady who just wanted to help us. I still remember the beautiful butterfly collection she had in the hallway on the way up to our room. She lived alone. Her husband was a doctor but he never returned after the war. The house was located in a residential area, and the rent was reasonable. Frankfurt was a big city also in ruin, destroyed by bombs. We spent some time together, the three of us, but my brother stayed mostly on his own. Miklós and I were browsing in the city and on one occasion we visited a zoo.

One afternoon, Zoli came to tell us that the United States was willing to accept young German displaced people with a trade and that he was able to get help to obtain birth certificates from Berlin. Miklós had very little knowledge of the German language, so to be sure that we will not be separated he became my step-brother. I was given the name Miriam Schoenfeld. The name of Miklós's mother was different than ours. Also to have a better chance to be accepted, each of us became four years younger. Since they were looking for tradesmen, Miklós became a tailor, Zoli was a watchmaker, and I was only fifteen years old according to my birth certificate so I was a student.

These papers were forwarded to the U.S. Consulate and several weeks later we were called for an interview. First, Zoli was called in. It did not take long. When he came out he told us that he got accepted and not to worry. I was called second. The woman who interviewed me was a very nice person. She shook hands with me and wished me good luck. Now it was Miklós's turn. Luckily it was lunchtime and the officer was in a hurry so he was asked a few simple questions that Miklós had no trouble answering. All of us got accepted. It was a tremendous relief.

We were taken to Bremerhaven. At this place we went through a medical checkup and we received some landing documents. Also, we got busy taking pictures from the train and the ship of ourselves and of all the people around us. Finally we boarded the ship. It was a transport carrier during the war. It was called Ernie Pyle. There were many people whom we knew from the DP camps. Men and women were separated for the nights. Women stayed on the upper deck, men stayed on the lower deck.

Every morning I met Miklós and Zoli and together we went to have breakfast. People we knew were telling us that they were serving cakes. Actually it was white sliced bread but this was new to us. In Europe we didn't have it. At dinnertime they served us chicken and there were bowls of black olives. Well, we never saw black olives in our lives. We were quite sure that they were prunes. I had no appetite. I was seasick. I couldn't eat the chicken but I filled my pockets with what I thought were prunes, hoping that perhaps I would be able to eat some of them later. What a disappointment I had when I bit into one. I spat it out and emptied my pockets. Miklós did the same thing but he put some chicken in his pocket for me, hoping that I would feel better later and eat it. However, I was quite sick and I survived the long voyage eating apples.

All of the expenses were paid for by the HIAS, which I think stands for Hebrew Immigrant Aid Services. The sea was rough and the ship, small and crowded. There was heavy rain. It took approximately one week to arrive at our destination. From a distance we noticed the statue of Liberty. It was a very emotional time for us. It meant freedom. We were thankful for everyone who helped and we were very hopeful.

When we arrived in New York we were taken to the Hotel Marcelles by the HIAS. I was sharing a room with another woman. We left the hotel and tried to find a place where we could buy a Hungarian-English dictionary. In the first store we walked into, I asked the sales person for a "hungry" dictionary. He burst into a laugh. After regaining his composure he explained very slowly the mistake, and we got the dictionary. We continued walking. We just couldn't resist all the good food. We bought a roll of salami, a loaf of bread, and some cherries from a little grocery store. I believe the hotel was close to the Hudson River. We sat down to rest on a bench. It was at the waterfront and had a park-like setting. It was mild and a beautiful evening. We watched the people passing by wearing elegant clothes. It was time to get back to the hotel and we decided to call my uncle Miklós in Canada and let him know that we arrived in New York.

My uncle was very happy to hear from us and promised to come to see us as soon as possible. Now it was time to go to sleep. To part from each other was difficult on both of us. Miklós accompanied me into my room and we were holding hands until quite late and talking. The next day my roommate confronted me, saying that she would like to go to sleep early but with us staying up so late--we don't behave like brother and sister, we behave like lovers, and she has no privacy.

The next morning we told Zoli about the situation. He said he would make an appointment with the HIAS and we would tell them everything. We met with a representative and we explained our situation. Without any hesitation he told us that they would take care of everything, correcting the name, age, and nationality. They were willing to help us find work, housing, and to provide some furnishings. The only requirement was that we leave New York. We were given the choice of several cities and we were given time to decide.

We had not yet come to a decision when my uncle Miklós from Canada arrived at the hotel. His arrival meant indescribable happiness to me. I loved him so much. Seeing him reminded me how happy my entire family had been when he dropped into our store or came to visit in our home. We hugged and kissed, and he remarked, "Vera, you are still short." He took us to visit two of our second cousins. First, we went to Elza Schönfeld, who at that time had a young son around seven years old. I believe she was divorced or separated from her husband. She left Hungary at a very young age to live with her aunt and uncle in the U.S. We were very happy to meet each other. Later we visited Ilonka, Elza's sister, who after the war got reunited with her groom or husband (I am not sure if they got married in Hungary or were engaged). I also knew her husband, Fred Weinberger. They lived in Kisvárda and they were in the jewelry business. Ilonka showed us her newborn twin boys. I did see Ilonka in Auschwitz. She was with her four sisters there. It was thrilling to see her once again. I was happy that she survived. She looked so well and happy. I was very fond of her.

After we finished visiting, my uncle took me to Bloomingdale's. He wanted to buy me a dress. While I looked around to choose, my uncle was talking to a man. I have no idea who the man was, the manager or owner? Within minutes a sales lady approached me saying that I should pick any three dresses that I like. I did. My uncle wanted to pay but this man whom I had never seen in my life told us that he would feel honoured if I would accept it as a gift. I thanked him and I was very much touched by his generosity.

Uncle Miklós wanted us to go back with him to Canada. He was involved in the hardware import-export business. He told us that there would be more opportunities for us and that he would be able to give us help. We obtained a Canadian visiting permit for three months. On the following day the four of us took the train to Montreal. It was the month of May 1947. We had spent a whole year in DP camps since escaping across the Hungarian border. In Montreal, from the train station we took a taxi and arrived at 2160 Barclay Avenue. It was a lower duplex, a lovely home in a beautiful area.

We were welcomed by my uncle's wife, Freda (her maiden name was Toulch) and their young son, Harvey, who was around eighteen months, an adorable little boy. Freda was very kind. She did her best to make us feel at home. I spoke to her in Yiddish. We had accommodations downstairs. In Canada my uncle was known as Nicholas Ostin. His original name was Miklós Osztreicher. A couple of days later it was suggested that we stay temporarily at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Toulch (Freda's parents). They had a store and home in Rivière des Loups. Their house in Montreal was not occupied. I believe it was located on Waverly Street, close to Park Avenue.

My brother was offered a job as a watchmaker in Montreal at Mosel Bros. His starting salary was $50 a week. His ambition was selling. He learned the English language very quickly. He rented a room for himself and made a lot of friends.

My uncle suggested that Miklós (by this time I called him Nick) should see Mr. Edmond Kemény who owned a grocery store on Prince Arthur Street. He was influential and well liked in the Hungarian community. He very much liked to help out immigrants. He recommended opening up an electrical appliance repair shop. He knew a place; it also contained a room in the back where we could live temporarily. Since we had no money, Nick didn't want to take the risk. He wanted a job. He had difficulty learning the English language. His background was as an electronics technician. Mr. Kemény found a job for Nick at Stone Electrician. The location was in St. Jean, Quebec. He was picked up by truck at 5:30 a.m. and got home at 6:00 p.m. The work was difficult and dangerous. The pay was $17.00 a week.

In the meantime Mrs. Toulch's sister arrived with her daughter from New York and they moved into the house. She did a lot of cooking. We didn't want to be blamed in case something got ruined so at this point we decided to rent a room for ourselves. We found one on Laurier Street, close to Park Avenue. It was convenient and very bright. The woman who rented it to us was very friendly. The rent was $35.00 a month. Her name was Mrs. Baker. She was an elderly widow, a matchmaker. When my brother came to visit she seemed very interested to find a girl for him.

Nick worked very hard. One day he had a close encounter with a life threatening accident. At that moment he decided to quit the job. Until he could find another job, the two of us went door to door asking people if they had any radios that needed repairing. I did the talking, he did the work. Mrs. Baker knew that Nick had no permanent job. She must have been wondering how we would be able to pay the rent. She knew about an electronics manufacturing firm owned by M. Pollack and she called the company. An interview was arranged and Nick was hired. He worked on an assembly line. The starting salary was 44 cents an hour.

My brother moved to Drummondville where he was offered a better position in sales at Kitner Jewelry. We found a one-room basement apartment at 5352 Park Avenue. The key money was $200 and the rent was $12 a month. The apartment had a metal double bed and mattress. Mr. Kemény helped us get a telephone line. Nick painted it nicely and we were glad to be on our own. However, it was a dark, depressing apartment. No matter how much we cleaned there were cockroaches and mice.

Since Nick had a permanent job we decided to remain in Canada. Due to the fact that my uncle signed a guarantee for us, there was no help available from any of the Jewish organizations. Both of us hated the fact of not being able to use our own names, as well as the four-year difference from our true ages. Most of all, we were brother and sister according to our documents. My aunt Freda suggested we choose a short, simple name starting with the letter S since we came into Canada as Schoenfeld. She told us that we would have no trouble changing the name as long as the first letter is the same. She explained that that's what my uncle did. He was Ösztreicher and he became Ostin. She searched the telephone directory and came up with the name Stone. It sounded quite simple so we agreed. My uncle took us to a notary, Nathan Fish, who did our marriage contract. In this document he stated that Johann Schoenfeld was also known as Stone.

On April 4th, 1948, Rabbi Bender officiated a marriage ceremony. My uncle was present. The Rabbi didn't accept any money for his services. We were glad to have the marriage contract even though my name appeared as Miriam Schoenfeld. There was nothing that we were able to do to correct it.

By this time reality had set in. I had difficulty coping with the truth that planned annihilation of European Jewry had almost been achieved. Not one of the six million innocent victims wanted to be a martyr. Cruelty beyond one's imagination took place and the world stood by and allowed it to happen. I had to accept that I will never see my beloved family again. I tried very hard to help myself. I left my apartment for long walks downtown but I found myself thinking back and tears were flowing from my face. Quickly, I had to turn to a storefront so that no one should see me cry.

My health was deteriorating. I was getting severe headaches and stomach pains. At the Jewish General Hospital I was told that I had an ulcer and they wanted me to undergo surgery. My family physician did not agree. He referred me to a psychiatrist who reassured me that after all the tortures and tragedies I had suffered it was normal to feel the way I felt. I was advised to find work, keeping busy would help.

My uncle sent a sewing machine, which he borrowed from his in-laws, over to our apartment. I found work making fancy blouses and was paid 44 cents for a completed blouse. After finishing a dozen, Nick and I realized that it just didn't pay to continue and we returned the sewing machine. Nick advanced at work. He did radio inspection and testing and received a salary increase. I searched for another job and found one but Nick wouldn't hear about it since it was in a match factory and he felt it could be dangerous.

We had an opportunity to move out of the basement apartment up to an efficiency apartment on the third floor. It contained a pull down Murphy bed. The rent was $35 a month. Finally, I got a part-time job making lampshades. It was convenient, just a short walking distance. I liked the people with whom I worked. The owners were very nice to me. The money was helpful. I liked working. I became pregnant but continued working well into the ninth month.

During pregnancy I felt well and very happy. My childhood dream was to become a mother, and to have children was coming true. On May 19, 1949, our son Mark Jeffrey was born. It was a tremendous joy for both of us to have the baby. I kept very busy and, to earn some extra money, Nick brought parts from the factory to assemble radios at home. Nick worked late at night. The lights were on and there was a lot of noise. With all three of us being in the same room the baby was very much disturbed.

At the first opportunity, we moved again; this time, down to the first floor into a one-bedroom apartment. The rent was $55 a month. The location was very convenient and the building was called "The King George." My brother sent us a bedroom set and my uncle sent some living room furniture as a belated wedding gift. We made quite a few friends. My brother regularly visited us from Drummondville. He loved to play with the baby. At my uncle's house we were always welcome.

In 1950 there was an amnesty. It was most unfortunate that we were not sure it applied to us. We had the baby and Nick had the job and we were too fearful to make a declaration. That was a terrible mistake on our part. Also, at this time, survivors were applying to Germany for restitution. My first reaction was that I will not accept blood money. However, there was a great need to get some extra help. So I picked up a form but then read that I needed witnesses. I didn't think that I could approach anyone who knew me and knew what happened to my family because of the name change and also the age difference between my true age and that on record.

In the end of 1950, I became pregnant. We searched for a larger apartment. On 3931 Linton Street (corner of Legaré), we rented a two bedroom, unheated, newly constructed apartment with an oil-burning space heater in the hall. The monthly rent was $56. It was a pleasure to move into a brand new building and to live in a bright, roomy apartment. We were lucky we had wonderful neighbours. Next door was Florence and Alex Vineberg and their daughter Ellen. She was four years older than Mark but she liked him and they spent a lot of time together. Mr. and Mrs. Kraut and their son Benny lived upstairs. He was also older than Mark but they were good friends. So our neighbours became our friends too. On Passover, my uncle invited us for the first Seder, and on the second Seder we went to the Kraut's. We always had a wonderful time. The location of our new apartment was also very good. It was close to my uncle's place. Kent park was just minutes away, a short walk. Also, the Van Horne School where I studied English at night through adult education was close by.

The company where Nick worked, Electrical Products, relocated to Fullum Street, which was still on the east side but somewhat closer to home. It was renamed Fleetwood Manufacturing Company. Nick was promoted. He became a foreman in the radio test department and his salary was increased. He purchased a used little English car. It was called the Mayflower. Having the car certainly improved the quality of our lives. On weekends Nick drove to beautiful country sights in the Laurentian Mountains. Sometimes the Krauts joined us. Nick loved fishing. I enjoyed watching the scenery, playing with Mark, having nice company. We were happy.

On August 22, 1951, baby Gary was born, healthy and beautiful. We were thrilled. Mark was very happy with his baby brother. I managed very nicely, found time to go to the park everyday. On the 9th of November tragedy hit once again. I went to check on the baby. He wasn't breathing. I called the doctor, he arrived in minutes. In the meantime, I tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation but there was nothing we could do. I had to be sedated. My uncle and aunt rushed over and they did all the arrangements for the burial. We sat shiva at their house.

Mark was two and a half years old and kept asking, where is the baby? I had to tell the truth. It was an extremely difficult time. Luckily we had Mark. We had to be cheerful and pretend that everything was all right. Mr. M. Pollock, the owner of the company where Nick worked, called him into his office and told him that if we would have another baby he would pay all the hospital and doctor fees. We appreciated his offer but it was just too soon. We couldn't think of having another baby yet. As time passed I really didn't want Mark to be alone, an only child.

The following summer, Dr. Ben Scott, our family physician, who was a cousin to my Aunt Freda, telephoned me. He told me that my uncle had a serious car accident. I asked him how badly he was hurt. His answer was, only God could help. At that point I was sobbing, I couldn't talk anymore. But I did call him back and asked him, is he dead? He said, knowing what you've been through I just couldn't tell you that word. My uncle was driving back from Old Orchard. That's where my aunt was vacationing with the children. The accident happened around Sherbrooke in the Eastern Townships. Dr. Scott and Freda's sister, Betty, went to Old Orchard to bring Freda and the children back. As she entered her parents' home where the family had gathered there was dead silence. She looked at me and asked, did we lose him? At that point tears were flowing down my face. She said, I knew it. Nick and one of Freda's brothers-in-law were called to identify the body.

The loss of my uncle was very painful. It also entered my mind that perhaps I will not be able to keep up the close relationship with Freda and I will not be able to see my cousins Harvey, Marvin, and Eileen as often as I liked to. But that didn't happen. She felt very close to us and our friendship and love for each other only grew. It was a special treat for Mark to play with Harvey and Marvin so we visited very often.

My next-door neighbour, Florence Vineberg, suggested that I should join a cancer research group. I did and I enjoyed it. In October 1952, I became pregnant. Like before, I was in good health and happy. By 1952, we were eligible to apply for Canadian citizenship. We were hesitant because of the different names and ages and we postponed it. On the 4th of July 1953, our son Gerald Kenneth was born. Mr. Pollock kept his promise: he paid all the medical expenses. It certainly was a big help and it was very much appreciated. Mark was very happy with his new baby brother, and since he was already over four years old he was a great help for me.

My brother left his job in Drummondville and relocated to Toronto, Ontario. He worked for Henry Birks Company and dated Sara Grace. They came to visit us in Montreal. At first sight we liked Sara very much. She felt right at home. She was very friendly and considerate. They decided to get married. We traveled by train to Toronto and took Mark with us. We met the family. It was a beautiful wedding. We were very happy for both of them.

Our circle of friends grew. Through my late uncle we got to know Lilly and Herman Herscovitch. They were very special people. It was always a happy occasion to get together with them. They loved our children and the children called them Auntie Lilly and Uncle Herman. At every chance we got, we tried to escape from the city life to the country sights together with the children. Our trips included Coteau Landing and Chambly. We made picnics and went fishing. Even before my brother moved to Toronto, we rented a summer cottage together in Rawdon for two weeks. In 1954, we spent two weeks at Lac Gagnon.

In the fall, we took a trip to the Ottawa region. It was evening by the time we arrived at Rideau Ferry. The children were getting restless and we decided to look for a place to stay overnight. We drove by a very charming country Inn. A man stood outside. We asked if he would know if there is any vacancy. His first question was, are you Jewish? Of course, we said yes. He said, I don't think they will rent to you because the guests don't like to mix with Jews but since it's the end of the season you might get a cabin. We had to consider the children so we stayed in the cabin overnight. We were shocked and disappointed. We certainly did not expect to hear this prejudice in Canada. We were told that previously in the St. Adele and St. Agathe area on some of the hotel signs it was posted, No dogs and no Jews allowed.

In February 1955, we were expecting our third child. Nick was promoted. He became a foreman on the black and white television assembly line. He traded his Mayflower for a larger car, a used Ford. We spent the summer vacation at Motel Beaurivage in St. Donat by Lac Archambault. It was a beautiful place. On the 6th of November 1955, our third son, Paul Allan, was born. Needless to say, all of us were thrilled. Due to the restrictions and the lack of freedom for the children to play outside of our apartment building, we searched for a land to buy in the Laurentians. In 1956, we purchased a piece of land in St. Agathe North. The price was $600 in twelve monthly installments of $50 (no interest). We called Mr. Duval, a local construction man, to give us a quote on how much a small summer cottage would cost us to build. He measured the land, smiled, and said, Mr. Stone, the land you bought is too small to build a house on. There was no place for the well and cesspool. We remembered that the people we bought the land from also had a little cottage for sale. We checked out the house. It was big enough for us but we found the land very mushy and wet. We were reassured that all the water was due to the melting snow from the hills. They seemed honest and we accepted their explanation. The land deal was cancelled and we purchased the summer cottage. The price was $3,000 ($50 monthly, no interest). It included lake rights to Lac Magnan, a walking distance of about 100 feet. When school finished we went up with the children to stay for the summer. There was a lot of water on the land.

The people we bought the house from, Mr. and Mrs. Pincus, they had it filled with some earth. The house contained a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, a sunroom, bathroom, and a balcony. It was furnished. It had an icebox and a wood stove in the kitchen, a propane heater in the living room. It also came with a wooden rowboat. It was a Jewish community and the people were very friendly. We all loved the place.

That summer we met Ann and Sam Spindler and their son Larry. We became good friends. They were renting a room from Mrs. Pincus. Friends of theirs were telling us that they purchased a duplex and had to move. We became interested to rent the duplex they were vacating. The rent was $98 a month. It was a lot of money but the children were allowed to play in the backyard. The place was on Birnam St. in Park Extension. There was a lot of work to be done. In the fall of 1956, Nick painted the whole place. Shopping, school, and parks were close by. We had friendly neighbours. Since our rent was very high, Nick worked at night doing radio and television repairs. It was nice to live in the duplex on Birnam. We had more room and the children had more freedom.

In the spring, our landlady suffered a stroke. The owners decided to sell their duplex. They wanted a small single family home. Two couples bought the duplex and they wanted us to move. They were willing to pay us some money to break the lease. We were tired of moving. What we really would have liked was to buy a single family home. In the city of Montreal, prices were too high. Nick felt that we should be looking in the suburbs. We searched in many areas. The most reasonably priced and well-built three bedroom home we found in L'Abord des Plouffe East, at 577 70th Avenue. Later the island was renamed, as the city of Laval, and the area, L'Abord des Plouffe, became Chomedey.

We had problems like not having enough money for the down payment. Nick approached Mr. Pollock and asked if we could get a loan. He offered $1,000 without interest. We had no one else to turn to except my brother. I hated to ask but I did call him and I explained that we found a home that we would like to buy but we were short $1,000 and we would like to borrow. He was very happy to hear that we found a house to buy. He said, I will mail you a cheque. It's a gift from us. It certainly was very much appreciated. It was a very big help for us. By this time my brother opened up a jewelry store on Younge Street in downtown Toronto and owned a very nice home on Cavottti Crescent in Downsview. The purchase price of our home was $12,650. On the $10,000 mortgage balance, the interest rate was 6%. It was a 25-year mortgage. For families with children, there was a 3% government rebate. Our monthly payments came to $56 plus heating, property taxes, and insurance. This was in 1957.

By this time, we had been in Canada ten years. There was no hope that we could change back to our original names so we decided to apply for citizenship. We were called for a short interview. Nick asked the immigration officer, Mr. Robitaille, to add the name Stone in brackets as it was in our marriage contract. He became furious and shouted at Nick, "You didn't come here to change your name, you came to change your nationality." A few weeks later we went to receive our citizenship documents. Mr. Robitaille called Nick into his office and told him that he will have to give a talk to the new Canadians on the topic of "How I feel to be a Canadian." It was completely unexpected. Nick asked him, Why me? He said, in this group, you've spent the longest time in Canada. Nick felt that the speech was a disaster. It was very upsetting that we were not able to use the name Stone legally because by this time it was the only name that we used. On our children's birth certificates the father's name was signed John Stone.

Once again Fleetwood Manufacturing moved, this time to Paré Street in Town of Mount Royal, and it was renamed Fleetwood Corporation. Nick was promoted to Supervisor on the color television line. We moved into our new home. It was magical. I just loved it. A beautiful corner property with a huge land and a gigantic tree in the back yard. It seemed so perfect. There was a lot of work to be done; the landscaping, the driveway. But that had to wait.

We purchased a new sewing machine. I made pretty curtains for all the windows except in the living room. My aunt Freda used to give us clothes for the boys that her children had outgrown, and clothes for myself from her sister. They needed some alterations so it was handy to have the sewing machine. We managed to buy used appliances: fridge, stove, an old wringer-type washing machine. With all the furniture that we had in the duplex the house looked presentable. The location of the house was good: shopping, school, park, medical facilities were all close by. Access was easy; to go up north to our summer cottage, also to go to work for Nick.

Our next-door neighbours were the Levesque family. The man was cordial, the woman smiled, but I noticed the woman wasn't happy when our children and theirs got together to play. Perhaps there was a language problem. Our children spoke English, theirs French. However, within a few days they put up a fence. In the property behind us were the Alberts. They had a little boy. Sometimes he walked over to the end of our land to watch our children play, but the mother rushed over and took him away. One day as I walked home after shopping, I met one of my neighbours across the street. We talked about the community. She said, no one wants to talk to us, they think we are Jewish but we are not. Well, I very proudly told her that we are Jewish and I told myself that those who don't like us don't have to bother with us. As time passed I got to know some very nice people on our street and in the neighbourhood and so did our children.

Once our summer cottage was open for the season, it was a routine to spend the weekends there. By the time Nick got home from work everything was packed and ready to go. When school finished I stayed up for the entire summer with the children. After work, almost every day Nick drove up to spend the night with us and to do some fishing, but by 6:00 a.m. he had to leave to head back to Montreal and go to work. By the second summer we knew that our cottage was built on low swampy land. The front of the land had to be filled in with earth and we knew that it was only a temporary improvement.

Someone at the plant gave Nick a beagle puppy. We named him Brandy. He was a welcome addition to our family. We bought a Chrysler five-horsepower outboard motor for the boat. That turned out to be a very good investment. We not only were able to enjoy our beautiful Lac Magnan but we navigated through the channel into Lac des Arpin, a much bigger lake. From there, we found another small channel that led to rapids. There was a huge stone at the rapids that the boys loved to climb upon. There were many rocks and a path to walk on and lots of blueberry bushes. The country place was a havenæbeautiful, scenic.

In mid-summer I had a frightening experience. At dawn I was awakened and told to vacate the property because the lakefront house that Mr. and Mrs. Pincus owned was on fire. Mr. Jasmin, the man who ran door to door to wake up the community, told us that the fire could spread. Even the bridge could burn down. I woke the children. We dressed quickly and hurried to cross the bridge and walked to our nearest neighbour, Mrs. Marjorie Green, who was there with her daughter Susan. They were great. They made us toast and coffee and comforted everyone who came over. Once the danger was over we returned home. The lakefront property burnt down to the ground but none of the other homes nor the bridge were damaged.

In the fall, Mark attended the Prince Charles elementary school. I kept very busy. My day began at 6:00 a.m. That's when I got up to prepare breakfast and lunch for Nick. Attending to the children, cooking meals, keeping our house spotless, doing the shopping--it was a full-time job. However, after the Holocaust, these were the best years of my life: the pregnancies, having the children, playing with them, watching them grow. Of course there were difficult times too, like when they had contagious diseases, when Paul had a very bad case of croup and burnt his foot, or when Gerald had lymphocytosis. Thanks to my wonderful husband, no matter how busy he was at work he was always there to help. His family always came first. As far as the children were concerned, they had been exceptionally good. Whenever I needed help they were always there to help me; whether it was dusting, washing dishes, putting the toys away, or feeding the dog. Being with the children was always a pleasure for me. In wintertime on weekends Nick usually drove up to the Laurentians to a ski hill to do some tobogganing. Of the many hobbies that Nick had one of his favorites was photography and making home movies. And so, we have many happy occasions recorded.

When springtime in 1958 arrived, we got the landscaping, the drive way, the walk way with a steel banister completed, plus we had a fence put up at the end of our property. During the landscaping a few of the Albert's shrubs got damaged. The man was furious. He gave me quite a scare. I was walking with Paul in the stroller when he drove so close to me that I was terrified. I recognized his car but I had no witness. There was nothing I could do. However, Nick did go over to talk to them and we paid to replace the broken shrubs. The atmosphere remained cold and we never spoke to each other.

Eventually quite a few Jewish families moved into the neighbourhood. Mark studied Hebrew after school with Cantor Kroll. In order to enjoy the summer cottage, a cement foundation had to be built. The icebox was replaced with a used fridge; the wood stove was replaced with a small electric stove. The open porch was enclosed with a screen and sliding windows. By this time the initial $3,000 investment was costing us $8,500 but it was well worth it. My brother and sister-in-law, Sara, came to visit us from Toronto with their two children, Martin and Doreen. It was so nice to be together with family. My neighbour's daughter, Susan Green, was teaching me to swim. I did learn and I love to swim. There was always a lot of activities for the children and ourselves, and a lot of nice company. We bought a used pinball machine and in the evening the youngsters gathered at our house and had a lot of fun.

Nick advanced to Method Engineer. It involved simplification of the product and preparing setup procedures. We purchased our very first brand new car, a Vauxhall imported from Britain. I took some driving lessons and got my license. It was very useful. In the fall when we returned to our city home, the landscaping was beautiful. All the different flowering shrubs and the white double lilac trees had grown. Next door, the Levesque family moved away. The family that moved in were manufacturing kitchen cabinets. It was very noisy from the sawing and there was interference on the radio. An inspection was done by the city and they were stopped from working there. Their house was sold to the Fortin family, an elderly couple with four grown children. These people were very polite and nice. This was a welcome change for us.

In 1962, Mark's Bar Mitzvah was held in a bungalow that was used as a synagogue. It was called the Shaar Shalom. It turned out to be a beautiful celebration with our relatives, friends, neighbours from the country, and co-workers from the company where Nick worked. We were very proud of Mark. He did very well. After paying all the expenses, we managed to buy Mark a beautiful green wooden canoe. He enjoyed it very much and it was a welcome addition at our country place.

We derived tremendous happiness from our children. At school they all did their very best. At home they did their share of work, mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage, cleaning up their rooms. Since the boys were growing up quickly, Nick made a plan to finish our basement. It contained a large recreation room and two extra rooms. The balance remained unfinished for storage and laundry. Having the basement finished was certainly appreciated by all of us.

Once the boys were at school, I looked for some part-time work. I became a representative for Beauty Counselors. I gave demonstrations of the products and sold them. I liked the work but it took up too much of my time. It was worrying not to know whether I will be home before the boys got home from school. We sure could have used the extra money. However, Nick and I decided that I would give the job up.

As time passed the west side of Chomedey became a very large Jewish community and two synagogues were built, the Shaar Shalom and the Young Israel. We became members at the Shaar Shalom. I also joined the sisterhood where I met a lot of new people. The activities and meetings I enjoyed very much.

Fleetwood Corporation expanded. They owned two manufacturing plants, the one on Paré Street and a new warehouse in Laval. Nick became Manager of Industrial Engineering. A great title, it sounded real good. In reality, though, it was a lot of work, a lot of stress, with very little money. Having this position he was able to bring Mark into the plant for a summer job. Later, Gerald and Paul also got summer jobs there.

In October 1965, I was expecting our fourth child. Once again I was thrilled and Nick shared my happiness. One day Gerald and Paul got into an argument. I wanted them to stop their bickering so I told them, listen carefully; I have something to tell you. I am expecting a baby and I would like you to behave and be considerate. There was silence. We could have heard a pin drop. Minutes later, Mark came after me and said, "You told Gerald and Paul that you are pregnant because you wanted them to stop arguing, right?" I said, "No way. I am expecting a baby." His eyes filled with tears. I had to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about and that a new baby would bring a lot of happiness to all of us.

On July 8th, 1966, David Robert was born, also at the Jewish General Hospital. My gynecologist, Dr. Glickman, said, I'm sorry to disappoint you, it's another boy. I wasn't a bit disappointed. I told him, when the boys will get married I will have daughters. After the brith, on the ninth day when I brought the baby home, Paul stood on the stairway and asked, "It's a good one?" I reassured him that the baby was one of the best. Just as I predicted, David brought so much happiness and pleasure into our family.

On September 10, 1966, Gerald's Bar Mitzvah was held at the newly built Shaar Shalom synagogue. After the services a high kiddush followed. It was a beautiful affair. We were very proud of Gerald. He did very well. Our new baby David was also with us. Since the babysitter refused to follow my instructions we decided to take him along. It was certainly a very happy and memorable event.

In 1967, Expo was held in Montreal. This was called Man and His World. It was held on Saint Helen's Island. Nations from around the world participated by building their pavilions and explaining their culture. This was a happy year. People flocked to Montreal from all over the world. There was cooperation and kindness, people were polite; no violence, no hatred, it was wonderful. Leaders of nations came to visit the sights. However, with the arrival of General Charles DeGaulle, the leader of France, and his famous proclamation "Vive le Québec Libre", the Quiet Revolution became more noticeable in the province of Quebec.

In fall of 1968, Paul's Bar Mitzvah was held, also at the Shaar Shalom synagogue in Chomedey. Paul's performance was excellent. We were very proud of him. It was a joyous celebration. Everyone was pleased.

At our summer residence, changes took place. The waterfront property where the house had burnt down was sold to M. and Mme. Martin. No more were we allowed to use the entire waterfront. We were given a three-feet wide passage to get to the lake. Needless to say, the situation made us very unhappy. We planned to sell our cottage and we hoped to find a lakefront land to build a house on.

In January 1969, we went to Florida for the first time. David was two and a half years old and we took him along. We flew to Tampa and from there we went by bus to St. Petersburg. The beautiful oceanfront hotel was called the Schrafts. The place was a dream. The white sandy beach, the plush carpeting, all the luxuries that one could imagine. It was the first time that David and I traveled by plane. The special price was $149 each for return airfare including meals and accommodations for seven nights and eight days. There was no charge for David. What a bargain that was. We visited all the tourist attractions in the area. We had the most wonderful time.

In 1970 there was political unrest in the province of Quebec. During the October Crisis, a British Trade Commissioner, James Cross, was kidnapped. Also, Quebec Cabinet Minister, Pierre Laporte, was later found murdered. Some mailboxes were blown up. The Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau, brought in the army to restore order. Many people including some of our friends and relatives left Quebec to relocate elsewhere in Canada. Nick's job was secure. We didn't think of leaving Quebec. We loved the Laurentians, the beautiful lakes and mountains, and our home in Chomedey. Our sons had their friends and they were busy with their studies.

In July 1971 we found just what we were looking for. We purchased a beautiful, uncleared lakefront lot from Mr. Laurendau on Lac Magnan, which is the same lake for which we had lake rights. We knew the people around the lake. We had many friends. So we were very happy. We were looking forward to building our new country home. Nick rented a chainsaw and cut the trees out that were necessary to remove. The boys were always there ready and willing to work hard to help out. Mr. Champagne bulldozed the tree stumps out, took them away, and got the land ready to build on. To stay within our limited budget, we chose a Viceroy prefabricated model. It was called the Hunter. The following summer, Mr. Duval built the foundation and the basement, and he drilled the well and installed a septic tank. Incidentally, it was Mr. Duval who knew the land was for sale and persuaded us to buy it. In the fall of 1972, within one week, our Viceroy cedar cottage shell was built, and also a field stone fireplace by Mr. Raymond. In the spring, the plumbing, electricity, and the heating system were installed.

We sold our old summer cottage with a loss but we needed the money to continue with the building. We had no regrets. It was time to move on but for seventeen years we very much enjoyed living there. After an inspection was done by Hydro, the next step was to finish the insulation. Once again our sons were there to work with their father on weekends. The insulation was completed and the gyproc walls and ceilings were partially done. When school was finished Paul could have gotten a summer job and earned some money but he decided to stay up north with me and David and work on the house. He completed all the gyproc work and finished the ceilings beautifully with stucco. A sub floor was built and the entire house was paneled and carpeted. Nick did all the ceramic work in the bathroom. Kitchen cabinets were installed. Finally, the doors were put up by Mr. Michauville.

We used the old furniture from the summer cottage. We purchased a blue second-hand stove and fridge. The stove was excellent but the fridge never worked and we had to replace it. There was much more work to be done but it had to wait. There were times I wished that we had never started to build, like when Nick lifted a power generator by himself. I was afraid he'll get hurt. Or while building the sub floor, he tried to pull a nail out and fell backward. However, this is all behind us. The address of our new four-season home was 5519 Rue Val des Lacs, St. Agathe Nord.

In the fall while driving up north, it was breathtaking to watch the changing colors of the leaves. I was mystified by the beauty of nature. We all loved the house. It was cozy and comfortable. With a fire slowly burning in the fireplace, we would have fun playing cards or a game of Scrabble; going for long walks, getting together with neighbours. The winter was a dream. From the street, to drive into our driveway the land was flat, but we had two slopes that led down towards the lake. We were able to go cross-country skiing right from our basement entrance. Down the slope across the lake, or go on paths into the forest. Our new home proved to be a very good investment.

To supplement our income, Nick was able to get sub-assembly work to do at our home. I always found some time to work in the evening and so did our son, Paul. The extra money certainly helped. Fleetwood Corporation was sold to GTE Sylvania. The new management later transferred Nick from Manager of Industrial Engineering to Manager of Plant Services. It included overseeing the maintenance, the security, the equipment in three buildings, plus the building of production-line facilities. He didn't like the change.

Mr. Henry Galler, who was formerly the president of finance at Fleetwood, left the company. He took over the Hitachi marketing of consumer electronic products and later manufacturing. He asked Nick if he would be interested to join his newly formed company, Belbois Ltd. At that point he was happy to make the change after working twenty-seven years at the same place. He was hired as Plant Manager. It was a cabinet manufacturing company, a subsidiary of Hitachi.

By this time, Mark worked at Fleetwood as an incoming inspector. He attended the Radio College of Canada at night. Later he became supervisor and for five years he studied Marketing at McGill University. When GTE Sylvania took over, he worked in the marketing and sales department.

During the summer, the cement floor in the basement of our country home was set. Mr. Champagne did a beautiful job completing the landscaping. Just as we enjoyed the winter, summer was great fun. The one hundred feet of lakefront was appreciated and enjoyed by all of us, including relatives and friends. Of course, by this time Mark, Gerald, and Paul were young adults. They all worked hard and paid for their own education. In 1975, Gerald graduated from Concordia University in Montreal with a Bachelor of Arts degree majoring in Communication Arts. In 1976, Paul also graduated from Concordia University with Honours in English. Both of them worked in the library at Concordia University.

I was able to stay up north with David, and there was plenty of work for both of us. David was clearing some land and he searched for beautiful small spruce trees and planted them. I loved to attend to our little flower garden and work on improving the waterfront, removing weeds and rocks. Of course, there was plenty of time for fun too: swimming, boating, canoeing, and hiking. Nick tried to come up north almost every night so we made sure he had enough minnows in case he wanted to go fishing.

Gerald and Paul both found the traveling time from Chomedey to Concordia University too long so each one rented an apartment in the same building on Stanley Street. Paul planned to continue a Masters degree and eventually teach. At this time, Mr. René Levesque founded the Partie Québecois, which sought sovereignty association. It meant that Quebec would become an economic partner with the rest of Canada but otherwise would be fully independent. The prospect of finding a job in Montreal to teach English wasn't promising. Therefore, Paul decided to study accounting. It became a very depressing time, with the restrictive language laws, the difficulty of finding jobs in Quebec without the knowledge of perfect French.

In 1977, Gerald traveled in Western Europe and Israel for six months, three of which were spent as a volunteer at Kibbutz Ga Aton in the northern Galilee. I was very happy and proud of him but when I heard on the radio that rockets were fired into the area where he used to go to buy his sunflower seeds I sure worried and wished he would be back home with us. Everything turned out fine. It was a successful trip.

Also in 1977, we sold our home on the east side of Chomedey. It was a time when properties were being sold at give-away prices. A lot of people were leaving the province of Quebec, especially young people. I did feel sorry to sell it. I loved that beautiful corner property with that huge land. However, we would have liked to relocate to Toronto, Ontario. We rented a three-bedroom upper duplex at 4812 Notre Dame Blvd. on the west side of Chomedey. The entire duplex had to be repainted. Paul came to the rescue. He did practically all the work by himself. Soon after we moved in the duplex got sold. The new owner wasn't cooperative. Our dog Sheba was not allowed into the backyard. We tried to make the best of the situation hoping it wouldn't be for too long.

Nick did get a job offer from Toronto. However, the company where he worked convinced him not to make the move. He was told that if the political situation would worsen, the company would move out of Quebec and he would be transferred. He decided to stay and our search began for another house to buy. In 1978, we purchased a split-level bungalow at 1422 Normandie Terrace in Chomedey West. The location was a dream: a small, quiet crescent in one of the most desirable areas in Chomedey. It was a four-level home. The exterior was covered with beige bricks and white stones and some wood. The interior contained three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen-dinette, a finished basement, one and a half bathrooms, and a garage. The land was just perfect too, plenty of space. All of us loved our new home. We knew that there was a tremendous amount of work to be done inside the house and outside.

On September 8, 1979, David's Bar Mitzvah was held at the Young Israel synagogue in West Chomedey. Just like his brothers, he performed excellently and sang beautifully. The luncheon was delicious. Rabbi Spiro called all of us up to the stage. He introduced us and gave a welcoming speech. Everyone was impressed. It was truly a very enjoyable celebration. We were thrilled and very proud of David. When it was over many of our guests came over to our house to take some pictures and spend some more time together. By this time, a lot of improvements on our house had been made. Some of the windows were replaced. An additional room that the seller built next to the dinette, which made the place dark, was demolished and a huge cement balcony was built instead. The old-fashioned dinette door was replaced with a sliding door.

Incidentally, it was also in 1979 when Nick said to me, "I could need you at work." He reassured me that he would explain everything to me and I will have no problem. I was hired. My job included keeping inventory, packaging parts, answering the phone, and some purchasing. I enjoyed working. Whatever little money I earned was very helpful. In 1980, Gerald graduated from McGill University with a Masters in Library Science degree. There were no job opportunities in Montreal. He went to Ottawa and worked on contract as a cataloguer for the Department of Agriculture.

GTE Sylvania closed the division where Mark worked, and he found work with Electrovert. When his doctor advised him to stay in bed with a back problem, his job was terminated. I was at work when Mark called to tell me that a former colleague had called him regarding a marketing position with an electronics firm in Toronto. I asked, when do they want you to go there? He said, they would like me to go today but I don't want to leave you and Dad. I had to do a lot of convincing but he did make the move. This was in 1982.

In the same year, Paul married Santina Fazio on June 27 at the Spanish and Portuguese synagogue. Rabbi Howard Joseph officiated. It was a beautiful wedding. We were thrilled. My brother, Sara, and Doreen came in from Toronto. A cousin of mine, Leonard Schönfeld, and his wife came from New York. Every simcha was overshadowed by the Holocaust. There was not much family from our side.

The next day, I was talking with my brother and somehow retirement came up. I told him that Nick would not get his pensions because, according to our documents, we were four years younger. My brother and I were also in the same situation. We also would have liked to have our names and birthplaces corrected. It also affected me. I wasn't able to apply to Germany for compensation. After thinking for a moment, my brother told me that he knows a lawyer who regularly travels to Hungary. Perhaps he would be able to obtain the original birth certificates. Several months later my brother did receive them. An appointment was arranged for the three of us at the Immigration department in Toronto. We had statutory declarations from witnesses who knew us from Hungary. We also had to make a declaration. We received our citizenship cards with both names. Thanks to my brother's effort, after thirty-six years of uncertainty, this was a tremendous relief for us. Too bad it was not explained that we could have signed our original names; we signed, Stone. All our official documents had to be corrected to remove the name Schoenfeld. There were times when we thought that we would have been better off to remain in the United States where the HIAS offered us substantial help. Then again, having sons, who knows what could have happened with the Vietnam War.

At work, Nick always did his very best. He was creative and enjoyed what he did. There was always conflict, mostly due to his lack of communication skills in flawless English and without knowledge of the French language. Aiming always to achieve the best result was very strenuous. He was getting severe backaches and numbness in his leg. Sometimes he had to use a cane. Surgery was considered. Miraculously, with physiotherapy the numbness disappeared and surgery was not required.

In the fall of 1983 my eyes felt painful. At work I had difficulty filling out the purchase orders. Dr. Boxer referred me to Dr. Kaback at the Jewish General Hospital. I was told that I had glaucoma in both eyes. The next day, he did laser surgery on both eyes at the St. Mary's Hospital. The day after, he examined my eyes and told me that the surgery was unsuccessful. He must operate again or I would lose my eyesight. The same day, he operated on my left eye and two days later on the right eye. Three weeks later I returned to work but my eyes were painful for a long time.

In 1983, Gerald began working at the National Archives of Canada, where he was active in developing descriptive standards and systems for archiving. On the 20th of February 1984, Santina and Paul became the proud parents of a beautiful baby girl. Our first grandchild. She was named Devorah. Paul gave up his job at the Concordia University library and took on work as a product coster at Belbois Ltd.

Having all the necessary documents, I was given an appointment with Dr. Stern at the Canadian Jewish Congress. An application was filed on my behalf to Germany for restitution. Even though the reason was clearly explained and proved, it was refused because of a missed deadline. I felt terrible.

On Jan 1, 1985, we went on a two-week vacation for the first time to Barbados. David came with us. We stayed at the Sichris Hotel. Across the road was the beautiful Rockley Beach. We toured the island. It was a very enjoyable vacation. We hoped to return again soon.

On March 17, 1985, Mark married Shelley Roff in Toronto. What a beautiful wedding that was. Unforgettable. Everyone attended from our family; my brother, Sara and their family; cousins and friends came from Montreal. It was a wonderful simcha.

In January 1986, our hopes became reality and we returned to Barbados for the second time. We stayed at the oceanfront Seabreeze Hotel. We loved the ocean and we met nice people. The food was excellent. All in all, a perfect holiday.

In 1986, Nick turned sixty-five years old. He went into semi-retirement. At the same time I stopped work. He continued working two days a week for another year. In all, he worked for forty years in Canada.

In 1987, Gerald married Cindy Jacobson from New York, NY. The wedding was held at her parents' home in Whitestone, NY. It was a beautiful affair. Everyone attended from our family, including cousins from New York that I hadn't seen for the longest time. I was very happy to see them.

On March 1, 1987, Shelley and Mark became the very happy parents to their first-born beautiful baby boy, Aaron—our second grandchild. In the same year, Cindy and Gerald also became the proud parents of a beautiful baby girl, Rachel. After all the excitement, we returned once again to Barbados and stayed again at the Seebreeze. Just like before, we enjoyed every moment. On August 24, 1988, Santina and Paul had their second child, a baby boy named Michael. He was our fourth grandchild.

Our youngest son David graduated in May 1989 from Concordia University with a B.A. Honours in Psychology. On April 25 of the same year, Cindy and Gerald had their second child, a baby boy named Ariel. In 1990, we went to Cuba for two weeks. We have been to beautiful beaches. In Havana we visited many historical sights. We stayed at Villa Playa Giron. We enjoyed nightly entertainment. It was an interesting trip. The same year, Santina and Paul had their third child. Another boy, and our sixth grandchild. His name is Jonathan. Less than two weeks later, Shelley and Mark had another boy named Jordan.

On August 16, 1990, David left home to do his Masters degree in Psychology at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. Our hopes to have our family always close to us were shattered. We knew it was to their advantage to relocate and we were happy for them. However, to see our sons leave was never easy and they too had a hard time to leave us. Santina and Paul and their children are still in Montreal. It's so nice to have them close by.

In the winter of 1991, we went to the Dominican Republic for a one-week vacation. It was fun. We tried sailing on the ocean. By this time, we found the winters in Canada very harsh. Driving up north on the slippery roads was hazardous. Cross-country skiing, which we always enjoyed, became too risky. Both of us had back problems. Our family didn't have time to visit us during the winter. Just the two of us, we felt quite lonely and not very safe. To keep up two homes year round with our low pension was too expensive. The work involved in up keeping the homes was getting too difficult. We debated what we should do. Summers were never lonely. Our sons and their families came during their vacations to visit us, and also sometimes on weekends from Montreal or Ottawa. Our greatest joy was to see everyone happy and having lots of fun.

The following winter we rented our country home for three months and went to Crest haven, West Palm Beach, Florida, where we rented a villa. We enjoyed the beautiful warm weather. We searched to buy a condominium. In Century Village, West Palm Beach, we bought a one-bedroom unfurnished condominium. On March 4, while we were away, Cindy and Gerald had their third child, a baby boy named Adam. He is our eighth grandchild.

Upon our return from Florida, we were considering to sell our city home. It was a difficult decision. I very much liked our home. However, all our savings went into our homes. The improvements included a fireplace, new roof, new kitchen, heat pump, all the windows, and the list could go on and on. We wanted to cut down on expenses and upkeep. In April 1992 we sold our home. We looked into buying a condominium in Ville St. Laurent but we found the prices too high. At this point, we decided to move up north and see how we like it. Paul helped us move whatever we were able to use. The rest was given away or donated. We had lived fourteen years on Terrace Normandie in Chomedey.

It happened several times that our country home was burglarized. To be on the safe side we had an alarm system installed throughout the house. We also bought a washing machine and dryer. But it didn't take us long to realize that, at our age, our country home would not be suitable for a principal residence. We needed a central location, close to doctors, the hospital, airport, shopping centers and so on. We had a real estate agent try to sell our house for two months. In the meantime, we checked out an advertisement that we noticed in the Gazette but we found it too small. Just by chance we met another agent who showed us several condos. We liked one very much in Cote St. Luc and we made an offer, which was accepted. On August 21 the deed was signed. A cleaning company was called out and all the necessary work was done. All our personal belongings were transported to our condo by a small truck. We bought new living and dining room furniture and new vertical blinds were installed.

Up north, the contract with the real estate agent expired. A young couple approached us saying that they are very interested to buy our home. On October 16, 1992, the deed was signed. Our beautiful country property was sold, fully furnished with all appliances, boat with motor, canoe, garden furniture—too numerous to mention everything. After twenty years of work and memories, to sell this house was heartbreaking. I was thinking of our family and tears were flowing down my face.

In November 1992, David received his MA in Psychology from the University of British Columbia. It was a hectic year. Selling two homes, buying two condos. At the beginning of November we left for Florida. We rented a car there for a month. We checked into the Days Inn hotel. It was very close to our condo. Arrangements were made with a painter to get the entire condo painted. While the painting was getting done, we searched to buy furniture. All the carpeting, plus the kitchen floor had to be replaced. The first thing we received was a mattress and box spring set. After that, we were able to stay in our condo. Next, the most important were all the appliances, dishes, pots and pans, cutlery, and linen. It took some time but our apartment got done beautifully. Before we returned our rented car, we bought a small used car to keep in Florida.

Century Village is truly an ideal place for retired people—excellent security; all types of activities that one could think of; heated and cold pools both indoors and outdoors; a beautiful clubhouse with shows, movies, and dancing; a synagogue on the premises; good bus service; friendly people. West Palm Beach is a very nice city with beautiful beaches, museums, theatre, and the Jewish Community Center nearby. There are also good hospitals, doctors, excellent restaurants and shopping centers.

Gerald and Cindy and their children were visiting her parents. They don't live too far from us, so they also came to visit us. David came from British Columbia to spend some time with us. It always makes us happy to see some of our family. Our first winter in our own condo was truly enjoyable. Once we were at home, we noticed that the wood floor was lifting up under the carpet. What a disappointment. We just bought the place. We reported it to the manager and they came to look at the problem. We were told that they had nothing to do with it, it is our responsibility. Nick pulled the carpet away from the wall. The following day, there was a huge rainstorm and we noticed water seeping into the living room from under the molding. I called the manager again and this time they had no excuse, it was their responsibility. It was a lot of inconvenience for us. One section of a wall was cut open where the air vent from the roof was leaking. The problem got fixed, the wall repaired, the living-dining room repainted, and a brand-new wood floor was installed. For several days we had to stay in a hotel until the floor was finished and the furniture put in place.

In the summer of 1993 we had a lot of free time. We began to miss our country home so we rented a waterfront property on Golden Lake in Val David. Everyone from our family came to visit. Two of our grandchildren, Devorah and Michael, stayed with us for a short while. It was a wonderful summer.

A significant date I missed in the year 1992. Our son David legally changed his surname from Stone to Mandel. Thank you, David. We truly appreciate it.

In March 1994, while we were in Florida, our building manager called. She told us that there was a fire on the third floor in the stove vent. The flames went all the way up and the fireman broke the living room wall joining the kitchen to get to the vent. She reassured us that everything will be fixed once we are back home. On April 15, we returned. What a mess we had to deal with. With time and a lot of aggravation, the wall got repaired. A brand new ceramic kitchen was built. We had to pay for new appliances and kitchen cabinets. It was costly but we do enjoy having the new kitchen.

After all the work got done, we planned a trip to cross the Canadian Rockies. When our suitcases were packed, we received a call from Mark. He told us that my brother was in the intensive care unit of the North York Hospital with pneumonia. My niece, Beth, had called Mark to let him know. We were shocked. The next day, Nick drove to Toronto. We stayed at Mark's place. When we went to visit, my brother was very sedated. I just didn't have the heart to wake him. We hoped to be able to talk to him on our next visit. Unfortunately, the same thing happened again. A nurse told us to wake him up but we just couldn't do it. He seemed so peaceful and we were still hopeful that he will recover. We returned home. My sister-in-law Sara was just wonderful. She kept us up to date on how my brother was doing. Sadly, there was no improvement. His condition only worsened. How I wished I would have woken him when the nurse told me to. He would have at least seen me there. On August 19, 1994, his suffering ended. He was seventy years old, my only brother, and my only immediate family member who had survived the Holocaust. We always loved each other. He was so special and good-hearted. To me he was a hero, but to him it was just natural to save Jewish lives and give help when there was a need. After the funeral, I sat shiva with Sara and the family. I cherish every moment I spent with my brother and all the memories I have. I watch his photograph every day in my bedroom. I miss him so much.

The following year we did take the tour across the Canadian Rockies. As we arrived at one of the beautiful hotels, there was still some Christmas decorations in the lobby. Our tour guide asked me if we have a big family celebration for Christmas. I told her that we are Jewish. We celebrate Chanukah. As for the big family celebration, I told her that my family and I were taken to Auschwitz. There we got separated and I never saw my family again. She was speechless, white as a sheet. After a few seconds of silence she said, "I have goose bumps all over my body. I never spoke to anyone who survived the Holocaust." She wanted to know if it would ever be possible for me to forgive or to forget. My answer was, no. I have no right to forgive. The six million helpless victims cannot speak for themselves. As far as to forget, never. I could be attending an excellent live show and I am very happy. Suddenly, it comes to my mind, why couldn't my sisters enjoy something like this? My eyes fill up with tears. I try very hard not to cry. Getting back to our trip, we enjoyed it very much. The beautiful scenery, good food, nice people. When we arrived in Vancouver, David was waiting for us. We rented a car, toured the city and Victoria. The best part was spending another week with David. Every moment was precious.

In the spring of 1996, I underwent surgery on my left eye. At the Jewish General Hospital, Dr. Kezner did a lens implant; he operated for glaucoma and for cataracts. There are improvements. However, there is a blurriness. Legally I am allowed but I don't feel comfortable to drive a car, so I stopped. I used to enjoy walking, now it's more difficult. I will have to undergo another surgery. I am hoping there will be improvements at that time.

In November 1996, David received his Ph.D. in Psychology from the University of British Columbia. From 1996 to 1998, he was a Postdoctoral Fellow in the Department of Psychology at Stanford University in Stanford, California.

In 1998, finally, my application for a hardship fund was accepted by Germany. Nick and I both applied to Hungary for restitution. It seems to us that their program was designed to boost their economy, create jobs for themselves, and wear down claimants with their deadlines and documentation requirements. For the loss of one of my sisters in Auschwitz, I was awarded the equivalent of $93 Canadian. As for myself, I was incarcerated for one year in Auschwitz and slave labour camps. Proof was sent, yet my claim was refused. According to them, I was in Russian labour camps. Even the little amount of money they awarded had to be claimed in Hungary and could not be taken out of the country. The whole procedure simply added insult to injury and was a hoax. The money they offered wouldn't cover the cost of the certified copies at the Hungarian consulate and the postage that we paid to complete the claim.

In July 1998, David moved from Stanford to London, England. He chose to lecture at the Department of Psychology at the University of Hertfordshire. The reason was to be closer to his girlfriend, Irina, who works in Paris. On January 1, 1999, Irina and David came to visit us in Florida. We all had a wonderful time, lots of fun at the ocean, sightseeing and so on. Irina invited us to visit her in Paris and David wanted us to visit him in London.

In the late spring, we decided to go for a two-week trip to visit David and Irina. Our tickets were purchased, everything was settled. On June 6, we were looking forward to going out to supper with Paul, Santina, and the children to celebrate my 72nd birthday. As usual I got up in the morning, put my shoes on. I wanted to walk to the kitchen but it was impossible. I just kept falling. Luckily, Nick was in the room. He managed to help me back into the bed and called an ambulance. While we waited for the ambulance to arrive, David, Irina, and their friend, Sarah, called to wish me a happy birthday. I was only able to speak to David for a few seconds to tell him not to worry and that I love him. He said, of course I worry, I love you. My blood pressure was 200. I was taken to the Lachine General Hospital. The diagnosis was labyrantitis plus the high blood pressure. Two days later I was home. Our trip had to be cancelled.

By July I felt well enough to spend some time in the Laurentians. Again, in Val David, on Golden Lake, we rented a summer cottage. Everyone came to visit from our family, including David and Irina. We are very fortunate to have such caring family. No matter how far they are, we are not forgotten. It was a wonderful summer.

Ourselves, we are into our fifty-third year of married life. Our love for each other never diminished and only grew. We have mutual respect, caring, understanding, and appreciation. During the forty years of hard work, responsibility, and stress not once did Nick forget to call home to find out if everything is all right with me and the children. He is a devoted life partner and father. May we have many more wonderful years together.

Now it is October 1999. We are getting ready to spend the harsh winter months in Florida. I am concluding my memoirs. It has been very difficult to write. I am drained mentally as well as physically. It is impossible to come to terms with this indescribable tragedy that mankind allowed to happen. In spite of all my suffering, I am thankful to the Freed girls from Vár utza, Kisvárda. They lifted me up and encouraged me to keep walking from Birkenau to Auschwitz. They had their great losses, yet they did care for another human being.

As we enter into a new millennium, I am hoping for good health, peace, and prosperity; freedom to all religions; equality for all.

---